McGlue: A Novella

**McGlue: A Novella"** by Ottessa Moshfegh is a haunting and darkly comedic tale set in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1851. The story follows McGlue, a disoriented and intoxicated man who finds himself imprisoned in the hold of a ship, grappling with the fog of his memories and the chilling possibility that he may have killed his best friend. Moshfegh adeptly crafts a narrative that immerses readers in McGlue's chaotic mind as he oscillates between moments of clarity and drunken delusion, offering a raw portrayal of guilt and the human condition.As McGlue reflects on his circumstances, he reveals a complex character trapped in a morally ambiguous world—full of bravado yet riddled with vulnerability. His sardonic musings and gritty observations expose the underbelly of life at sea, where self-destruction and fleeting moments of lucidity intertwine. **"McGlue"** is a sharp, incisive exploration of memory, identity, and the struggle for redemption, showcasing Moshfegh’s talent for blending dark humor with profound themes. This novella stands as a testament to her unique voice in contemporary literature, inviting readers into a captivating and unsettling voyage through the depths of one man's troubled psyche.

Interesting? Maybe. It certainly does not have the clarity or poignancy of Mosfegh's earlier work.It is enigmatic without allure, and seems to just want to gross you out and confuse you.Oh, the gratuitous dark and ghastly places that interesting, clever writers can take you!Awful.

<b>McGlue in a fugue </b>- Ah that wonderful drink that keeps the monsters at bay, but hey it does create some terrible monsters of it's own. Such a terrible deceiver.<b>McGlue unglued</B> - because that is what he is without Johnson. Johnson was the glue that kept him mostly together.Moshfegh gives us an unvarnished McGlue, the whys, the bad choices. McGlue was an escape artist and in drink he had the greatest of assistants. What did he find in Johnson? The friend? The lover? The enabler? I have to part and peak between her sentences to try and find answers, clues. And through these cracks in the sentences I glimpse his monsters, the lost brother, missing father, an exhausted mother, the attraction to men. But quick quick, just get another bottle, keep the monsters away.

This book cannot be condensed to a review. It is definitely a book that is heavy with meaning between the spaces of its lines. It is difficult to explain what this book is about because it definitely feels as if its something that you need to experience. Moshfegh does such a brilliant job of making you feel as drunk as our unlikable and unreliable narrator that transcribed words can't do justice to the experience. I will give a warning that I feel that this is a book that requires multiple readings to get at the nuances that she is able to capture. I cannot believe she was able to add so much to a single character in only 145 pages. This was my book club's choice for February and when we all started the discussion we stated that we had disliked the book. As we continued to dissect McGlue, his interactions, his backstory, his relationships and his "voyage through the fogs of recollection" we found that there was so much to unpack and ended up really loving this book. One of my fellow book club members pointed out that Moshfegh got the idea from the story from an 1800s newspaper clipping about a man accused of murder. This was the spark for this novella. Definitely give it a chance. Moshfegh truly continues to create her own unique voice in this story. I had read My Year of Rest and Relaxation prior to reading this book and could see hints of how McGlue went on to inspire MYORR.

I bexame aware of Moshfegh by way of her short stories, first in "The Paris Review" and then in "The New Yorker". When she was in an issue of either, she blew whatever else was in its pages out of the water. I bought "McGlue" and her novel "Eileen" and, when I finally got a free second, started reading the former. It's a strange book that takes a few pages to accustom the reader to the jumpy, deliriously drunken prose. Once you get the hang of it you'll be soaring, feeling like you're reading what Beckett would have written after a Melville and whiskey bender. If you tend to like a more subtle, engaging type of fiction than what I've just described, check out her short fiction or (from the reviews I've read) "Eileen". She writes some brilliant, seemingly mild-mannered stories that end up featuring some weird and often scary characters engaging in questionable behavior. If you want to be sad and disgusted and elated and sometimes confused, read this one.

The book itself was great. But the quality of the paperback was horrible. The spine fell apart and a bunch of the pages came loose after 3 days.

Full disclosure, I've been a huge fan of Moshfegh's since I was introduced to her short stories in my undergrad. But this is by far my favorite work of hers. It stands alone as the most riveting use of the unreliable narrator I've experienced up to now. At a little over 100 pages, it's pretty compact, but Moshfegh fits more development into this short span than I've seen in some full-length novels. The style leans towards experimental, but it maintains clarity and veers off only so often as it takes to stay true to the story's alcoholic, brain-damaged narrator. I cannot recommend this book highly enough, and any lovers of mystery, suspense, or self-destructive characters need it on their shelves yesterday.