PositiveThe RumpusEileen is a relatively sober portrait, occasionally leavened by a perverse humor in the vein of Southern Gothic authors. Her sentences are best when they are taut and surgical, slowly exposing the beating heart of the human condition as it begins to rot with loneliness. Moshfegh isn’t immune to the occasional cliché phrase—her and Rebecca were 'two peas in a pod,' and at one point she declares she is off to 'meet her destiny.' It’s hard to tell whether these are genuine or winks on behalf of Eileen’s naivety, but they can be easily forgiven when faced with the sheer art of pity Moshfegh has nearly perfected. In fact, the most challenging aspect of the novel lies in whether we should sympathize with Eileen or be revulsed by her habits and mindset. At its most effective, the black magic of Moshfegh’s squalid fairy tale allows us to do both ... The last scene is a circumstance that could have been transfixing, a moving dilation on the marvel of life itself amid the spoilage of Eileen’s wretched youth, but it feels unearned and almost betraying, a hint that the entire novel could have worked better in a different medium—a short story or a novella.
