,” in which a boring blonde goes to sleep, Rip Van Winkle style, for many months. These authors are most compelling when they use their surreal spells to transfigure domestic, feminized spaces, exploring where women get to be, and whom they get to become. Moshfegh’s protagonist burrows into her apartment; Heti’s finally finds “her right dimensions” in a tree.
The scene at Annie’s baby shower would be low-hanging fruit for any satirist. At one point, all the guests write down a piece of advice for the expectant mom:“It’s so important,” one of the women said, her face full of emotion in the presence of her own words. Some silent nodding and hands on hearts.
That sense of isolation is where the drama of Leichter’s book unfolds. It isn’t a spoiler to reveal the worst thing that Stephanie does with her magic, because it happens almost right away. One day, after she’s opened the door to the terrace, she closes it, leaving Annie on one side, Edward and the baby on the other. Husband and wife now exist in different “time steps,” separate universes with no point of contact.