Lapvona: The modern obsession with the tragic past

 

Lapvona: The modern obsession with the tragic past 

Lapvona is Ottessa Moshfeghs's latest novel, published in 2022. It follows the story of the delusional boy Marek, who lives in the medieval village of Lapvona, and finds himself suffering and struggling against mishappens and changes that test his faith in God. Lapvona blew up in social media for being a grotesque, vomit inducing, appalling book, branded as a novel for weird girls who like gut wrenching literature and religious imagery. Naturally, I had to read it. This was my first time reading an Ottessa Moshfegh book, despite my excitement to read her, I didn't necessarily have big expectations. I don't doubt Ottessa Moshfegh’s skills, especially since this seems to be her most unique piece of work so far, distant from her previous books, but perhaps for this exact same reason Lapvona wasn't the correct starting point. 

From the beginning both Lapvona and Marek are described as any medieval peasant would be. Poor, ugly, extremely religious with copious amounts of catholic guilt, illiterate, foolish. Every part of the town is plagued by suffering and tragedy, and of course, their local woman with witchy qualities.  The first half of the book is just as detailed and grotesque as you'd imagine, you flinch every few paragraphs and the foulness keeps you engaged. The description and introduction to the psyche of the characters are all twisted and fun to read- you see their complexities and their flaws and you decide which characters to pity and which ones to hate. There are no likable characters in Lapvona. 

Nevertheless, the book has its flaws from the beginning. There are a few questionable narrative choices that make itself more and more obvious as the book advances. There is a lack of suspense and mystery, all the actions and all the misunderstandings are plainly laid out for the reader to know. Perhaps this was an intentional choice made to display the ignorance and foolishness of the characters. Whether it was a conscious effort or not, I believe it takes away from the quality of the narrative. The shock factor lies strictly on the grotesque. There is rape, pedophilia, cannibalism, visceral images and perfectly detailed, disgustingly unhygienic actions. Of course, we know it is meant to be disgusting, and it's fun at first, but as you move through the story the foulness is less fun and chilling and more of a smoke screen that covers plot holes and narrative laziness. 

There are two major points in Lapvona that unite all characters and bring sense to the story: Religion and class. All individuals are directly influenced by these two factors, and their development as individuals as well as the development of the story depends on both of them. Once again, during the first half of the book, both elements are carefully explored, grossly detailed, it makes sense in the story. The world building is largely based on the economic situation of the town. We are presented with the following dilemma: If God is so kind, why did he make us so miserable and others so comfortable? The lapvonians found answers to this in their own twisted ways. Marek, particularly, found pleasure in suffering, he believed God would favor him above those that have it easy. The religious factor is richly unique during the first half of the story, then it becomes utterly shallow, a tool. Class inequality seems to be the only constant throughout the book- it doesn't have the spotlight, but it's the backbone of the story.

 Lapvona is meant to be a medieval village, set in medieval times, regarding medieval values. This setting explains the liberty of the author to repeatedly represent normalized, casual rape, pedophilia, religious abuse and other themes that may look less natural in a more modern setting. Unfortunately, there is little effort to accurately represent a medieval town, however fictional the setting is, and it's noticeable in many aspects such as the economic and political context and the language used in the dialogue. There is no wrong in telling a story set in the past, but Lapvona seems to exploit the era in which the story takes place to be antiquely explicit and conveniently modern, it’s a lazy excuse to leave traumatic events largely undeveloped. 

Convenience is a recurrent theme in the narration, there are all kinds of coincidences, many little inexplicable things, misunderstandings and plot holes that appear and disappear as the story requires it. There are rushed gaps, lazy "foreshadowing" and sloppy explanations to whatever thing is going on. Despite the story having a strong introduction with a critical outlook on religion, as the story loses focus and drive, it leans into the mystical/religious side as a way to keep its "reflective" and "intricate" prose alive. The world building stops making sense at this point, and the feeling that there is a real plot is lost after a while. There are thousands of excuses and enough grotesque scenes to cover it up though, you still can't let go. 

By the end of the story, you're not really sure what happened, how it happened or what was the reason. The ending is awfully rushed, riddled with plot holes and those magic in-and-out incidents. Despite the original religious outlook being almost fully lost, it has a very spiritual open-ending. The only aspect that seems to be still standing is the matter of class and the peasant life, even then it seems to end on a foolishly hopeful note (?) It seems like an illusion, it might be, it should be. There are emotional scenes and characters having eye-opening religious experiences and it all happens so fast and with so much mystery and ambiguity all in the span of less than 10 pages. And you start to wonder, why is the ending the one time this book imposes a question instead of answering it for you? 

Lapvona is a book with so much potential, clever characters, and beautiful prose. The book starts off strong, it promises so much, but after a while you can't really help but wonder...why? I believe that posed with the goal to drift off from her usual style and themes, Ottessa Moshfegh failed to develop this story to its full extent and make her point clear. So much is lost throughout the book and by the end you are not sure how to make sense of things. There is so much going on, and at the same time so little, and it's never enough. If Moshfegh decides to explore these themes, I'm sure she will write something that makes justice to the brilliant idea of the town of Lapvona, but for now, it's a story that got lost in its own broadness.