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A review by redwrapped
Lapvona by Ottessa Moshfegh
dark
funny
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
Lapvona reaches into mankind's worst urges and fantasies, and boldly shows off the depravity that people reach within short periods of time from the craving and attainment of power and the desire for self-importance, and framed in a familiar, sickening way: politicians and religious leaders manipulating and abusing the people they are supposed to help protect and lead to civility and salvation.
The village of Lapvona brags on its fertile dirt, capable of growing anything. But it cannot grow any fruit or vegetables when there's a horrible drought and the only source of water is dammed and stored only for the lord and his manor's usage, but not dispersed to the masses of people who desert their traditional vegetarianism and resort to eating dogs and anything else in their hunger-induced depravity.
"Religion is the opiate of the masses" is examined closely through every aspect of their lives, showing in no unsparing detail how corrupt, selfish, and desperate mankind is to designate meaning to anything, no matter how meaningless and manmade their problems are. Why should God forgive when God didn't even mete out the punishment, but the feudal lord who is both too stupid and too greedy to stop his accomplices from pillaging and depriving the villagers? But the villagers are too stupid and engrossed in their own problems to usually realize that. And then they actually believe that their lord will serve as a father figure to a new Immaculately-conceived Christ child and think of their village as saintly and holy, chosen for a higher purpose.
It's a grim but realistic approach to the political and religious aspect of the novel, but it has a surprisingly warm (but still wicked and morally-decrepit) version of the Prince and the Pauper. And stark, clear-eyed realism gives way to more a fantastical, creepy version of a wise woman who initially serves as a wet nurse for all of Lapvona before growing old and seeking a way to remain relevant to the village.
Moshfegh blends together folk-horror, comedy, biblical allusions, history that repeats itself, grotesque fairy tales (of the Slavic/Eastern European variety, usually the grimmest and scariest of all the folklore and fairy tales), and a series of archetypes as old as time to form one unforgettably bleak and twisted story in a way that only Moshfegh could pull off.
Despite straying farther from her body of work than ever before, Moshfegh has dared to write a book that diverges significantly from the beaten path, and has created Lapvona: a wholly original, unforgettable, and unmistakable tale. (And I LOVED it.)
Thanks to Penguin Press and Netgalley for this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
The village of Lapvona brags on its fertile dirt, capable of growing anything. But it cannot grow any fruit or vegetables when there's a horrible drought and the only source of water is dammed and stored only for the lord and his manor's usage, but not dispersed to the masses of people who desert their traditional vegetarianism and resort to eating dogs and anything else in their hunger-induced depravity.
"Religion is the opiate of the masses" is examined closely through every aspect of their lives, showing in no unsparing detail how corrupt, selfish, and desperate mankind is to designate meaning to anything, no matter how meaningless and manmade their problems are. Why should God forgive when God didn't even mete out the punishment, but the feudal lord who is both too stupid and too greedy to stop his accomplices from pillaging and depriving the villagers? But the villagers are too stupid and engrossed in their own problems to usually realize that. And then they actually believe that their lord will serve as a father figure to a new Immaculately-conceived Christ child and think of their village as saintly and holy, chosen for a higher purpose.
It's a grim but realistic approach to the political and religious aspect of the novel, but it has a surprisingly warm (but still wicked and morally-decrepit) version of the Prince and the Pauper. And stark, clear-eyed realism gives way to more a fantastical, creepy version of a wise woman who initially serves as a wet nurse for all of Lapvona before growing old and seeking a way to remain relevant to the village.
Moshfegh blends together folk-horror, comedy, biblical allusions, history that repeats itself, grotesque fairy tales (of the Slavic/Eastern European variety, usually the grimmest and scariest of all the folklore and fairy tales), and a series of archetypes as old as time to form one unforgettably bleak and twisted story in a way that only Moshfegh could pull off.
Despite straying farther from her body of work than ever before, Moshfegh has dared to write a book that diverges significantly from the beaten path, and has created Lapvona: a wholly original, unforgettable, and unmistakable tale. (And I LOVED it.)
Thanks to Penguin Press and Netgalley for this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Cannibalism, Child death, Domestic abuse, Emotional abuse, Animal death, Violence, Adult/minor relationship, Death of parent, Death, Injury/Injury detail, Medical content, Rape, Sexual assault, Sexual harassment, Child abuse, Abandonment, Classism, Kidnapping, and Gore