/pt/ – Petrarchan

open.substack.com/pub/fatherkarine/p/book-review-my-year-of-rest-and-relaxation > The sequel opens right where its predecessor ended: Reva, on the ledge of Tower 2, the second plane inbound. As the aircraft closes, its pilot, a plucky young jihadist Ottessa renders with the same generosity she extends to all her characters, looks up from his instruments and makes direct eye contact with a frantic Reva seconds before impact. Reva explodes; the tower does not. Three sentences afterward, with no paragraph break, Reva suddenly respawns with a full health bar directly into the narrator's kitchen holding two iced Matcha lattes and asking, in an annoying ass voice, if there’s seed oil in oat milk (there is). Less seasoned authors would feel compelled to validate Reva’s reality-bending reappearance with pages of theological exposition, but not Miss Moshfegh. Reva is back, baby, and that’s all that matters.