Ottessa Moshfegh

In the aesthetic wasteland, personal artistic tastes are merely superficial. Where they once functioned as a means of sculpting one’s identity, they now serve a higher power: selling stuff.

This year, The Daily Californian’s arts reporters Maya Thompson, Sarah Runyan and Asha Pruitt traveled to Park City, Utah to view the festival’s prestigious lineup on the big screen. Here’s what they watched.

New York, which I had expected would offer some rest and relaxation, still dragged me along with little relief.

With her latest endeavor “Lapvona,” it's evident that Moshfegh is not impervious to her newfound widespread name recognition or status as the definitive writer of “unlikable female protagonists.”

This past June I read Ottessa Moshfegh’s second novel, “My Year of Rest and Relaxation.”

You may have noticed a sudden influx of fresh faces around town — that’s right, UC Berkeley will be back in session in just a few days.

It is arguable that the most valuable lesson I learned from my blue cheese cooking endeavors is how to deactivate my smoke alarms.