Lapvona

I hesitate to call this a medieval novel, because it's so unmoored from any sense of time or place that it almost solely functions as an allegory. The message? Rich and powerful people hoard resources at the expense of the underclass whose labor generates their wealth. Religion is the opiate of the masses. Yawn. Fortunately, the character work here is strong enough that I still had a good time reading this. I have a soft spot for depraved and damaged degenerates and there is no shortage of these here. Overall, this was salacious and edgy enough for me to enjoy, but not as funny, original or profound as Moshfegh's excellent My Year of Rest and Relaxation.