An American author of novels, stories, and essays, Ottessa Moshfegh writes with surgical precision and morbid delight. Her voice is unmistakable: cool, clinical, and unafraid of filth. Born in Boston in 1981 to musician parents of Croatian and Iranian descent, she studied at Brown and went on to become one of the boldest—and most divisive—voices in contemporary fiction. Her characters are often disgusting, pitiful, lonely, or cruel—and yet, somehow, you root for them. She writes about the body, self-loathing, numbness, and desire with prose that’s both stripped and hallucinatory.

Reading Moshfegh feels like touching something you shouldn’t—and then doing it again. She doesn’t offer catharsis. She offers the strange pleasure of being honest about rot.