In Episode 93 of the Good Scribes Only Podcast, hosts Daniel Breyer and Jeremy Streich discuss Ottessa Moshfegh’s 2015 novel, Eileen. Set in a dreary New England town in the 1960s, the psychological thriller delves into the mind of its titular character, Eileen Dunlop. With sharp wit and vivid imagery, the podcast explores Eileen’s themes of identity, obsession, and self-liberation, contrasting them with Moshfegh’s My Year of Rest and Relaxation.
Here, we take a closer look at the novel’s core ideas, Moshfegh’s distinctive style, and its Hitchcockian narrative.
Eileen Dunlop is a 24-year-old woman trapped in the oppressive confines of her small Massachusetts town, which the novel dubs “X-Ville.” She cares for her abusive, alcoholic father and works as a secretary at a juvenile correctional facility for boys. From the outside, her life seems mundane, but within her mind is a world brimming with dark, chaotic thoughts.
As Jeremy notes on the podcast:
“Eileen’s inner monologue is a train wreck you can’t look away from—dark, uncomfortable, but weirdly relatable.”
Eileen’s yearning to escape her bleak existence becomes the driving force of the novel, culminating in a shocking climax that upends her life entirely.
A recurring motif in the novel is the idea of masks—what people present to the world versus who they are beneath the surface. Eileen’s narration oscillates between how she imagines others perceive her and the grim reality of her inner self.
Daniel explains:
“Moshfegh doesn’t just write about characters wearing masks—she forces readers to question their own façades.”
Eileen’s father, for instance, maintains a public persona of a devout churchgoer, even as he descends into paranoia and alcoholism. Similarly, Rebecca Saint John, a glamorous new hire at the prison, appears flawless to Eileen but harbors her own dark secrets.
The novel’s central moral quandary arises when Eileen becomes involved in Rebecca’s scheme to expose a boy’s abusive family. As Rebecca’s plans spiral into chaos, Eileen must grapple with her own complicity.
“Eileen’s moral ambiguity is what makes her such a compelling character,” Jeremy reflects. “You can’t help but root for her, even when she’s making questionable choices.”
This moral complexity culminates in a scene where Eileen decides to leave her past behind—literally abandoning the crime scene and hitchhiking to a new life in New York.
The novel critiques societal expectations of women, particularly the pressure to conform to ideals of beauty and behavior. Eileen’s journey from a passive, self-loathing caretaker to an active participant in her own story is an act of rebellion against these norms.
“Eileen’s transformation isn’t neat or redemptive,” Daniel notes. “It’s messy, raw, and completely her own.”
Rebecca’s charisma and confidence also serve as a foil to Eileen’s insecurities, inspiring her to imagine a life beyond X-Ville, even if it requires drastic measures.
Ottessa Moshfegh’s signature writing style—marked by grotesque detail and razor-sharp prose—is evident throughout Eileen. Her unflinching descriptions of the human body and psyche create a sense of discomfort that keeps readers hooked.
“Moshfegh’s writing feels like a Hitchcock film turned literary,” Daniel says. “You’re constantly on edge, waiting for something to go horribly wrong.”
The hosts also compare Eileen to My Year of Rest and Relaxation, noting the thematic overlap between the two novels. Both protagonists are trapped in lives they despise, using extreme methods to escape.
More than just a thriller, Eileen forces readers to confront uncomfortable truths about themselves and the society they inhabit. Its examination of identity, morality, and liberation feels just as timely today as it did in 2015.
Jeremy concludes:
“Moshfegh invites us to look beyond the surface—to see not just others, but ourselves, for who we truly are.”
Want more insights and witty banter about Eileen? Tune in to Episode 93 of the Good Scribes Only Podcast, where Daniel and Jeremy dive into the book’s twists, themes, and connections to modern storytelling.
