Everything in Rachel’s life feels disposable and insufficient until she encounters Miriam, a “kosher coquette” who serves frozen yogurt. When Rachel does open-mic nights, her “alt JAP” persona, clad in Saks Off Fifth, is an obvious outlier amongst the “Moon Juice, organic lip tint, and cocaine” set. She’s been shamed her whole life by her mother and developed disordered eating habits that make her “high on sacrifice.” Nothing adequately compensates: Her job at a Hollywood talent agency feels meaningless and she considers her therapist dubiously qualified at best (“How good could she be if she was willing to deal with Blue Shield?”).
Her latest protagonist, Rachel, lurches between visceral impulses and toxic narratives. This ache for more of everything-more flavor! more passion! more approval! more comfort!-is ultimately impossible to quench, and Broder examines how to live with that infuriating disappointment. It’s a theme that runs through her catalogue more widely, be it her droll-slash-existentially-queasy Twitter handle, So Sad Today, or her celebrated novel The Pisces. Melissa Broder’s new novel, Milk Fed, grapples with dissatisfaction.
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