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This is my first Moshfegh. I feel like what I am reading should be mundane and yet it is thrilling. I don't think I've ever had a narrator like Eileen before.

Is there any character description as cleverly cutting as 'Thelma Rice, a fairly tall person with a neck as long as an arm and a nose as long as a thumb and you should see her legs, never mind her feet, which are sort of splayed'?

“Eight years prior, I’d been plucked by fate from the roiling sea. From dry land it is natural to look at the world around you, and maybe even the country around you, and credit with something beyond its aims.”

“To be black in the Baltimore of my youth was to be naked before the elements of the world.”

"So little is known of the early life of John Harrison that his biographers have had to spin the few thin facts into whole cloth."

Dava Sobel has such a lovely, literary way of writing about science and scientists that it genuinely tempts the reader to find out more.

"I made a terrible mistake. I think about it every day [...]" But he doesn't think about it every day. [...] It just remained there, nameless: a sad, dark thing that weighed you down only some of the time. When the memory became too faint, too abstract, it would transform itself into an old rotator cuff injury, a pain so thin yet so sharp that he could trace it all the way across his shoulder blade and down his back.