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“There are times I think that none of this matters. Why put myself in danger with this book of the night? But I have to because if I write it, then it was real; if I write it, maybe we won’t just be part of a dream contained in a planet, inside a universe hidden in the imagination of someone who lives in the mouth of God. Each of these words contains my pulse. My blood. My breath.”

What is the Book about?

From her cell in a mysterious convent, a woman writes the story of her life in whatever she can find—discarded ink, dirt, and even her own blood. A lower member of the Sacred Sisterhood, deemed an unworthy, she dreams of ascending to the ranks of the Enlightened at the center of the convent and of pleasing the foreboding Superior Sister. Outside, the world is plagued by catastrophe—cities are submerged underwater, electricity and the internet are nonexistent, and bands of survivors fight and forage in a cruel, barren landscape. Inside, the narrator is controlled, punished, but safe.

But when a stranger makes her way past the convent walls, joining the ranks of the unworthy, she forces the narrator to consider her long-buried past—and what she may be overlooking about the Enlightened. As the two women grow closer, the narrator is increasingly haunted by questions about her own past, the environmental future, and her present life inside the convent. How did she get to the Sacred Sisterhood? Why can’t she remember her life before? And what really happens when a woman is chosen as one of the Enlightened?

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Rating
Plot ★★☆☆☆
Characters ★★☆☆☆
Creep Factor ★☆☆☆☆
Atmosphere ★★★★☆
Writing Style ★★★☆☆

Favourite Character
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My thoughts while reading it

I was ready to be devastated. I wanted to be disturbed, haunted, shaken. And for a few pages, I really was – until the story slipped away from me like fog through my fingers.

With The Unworthy by Argentine author Agustina Bazterrica presents another dark tale exploring religious fanaticism, isolation, and oppressive power structures. I went into this novel hoping for something akin to The Handmaid’s Tale – perhaps with a dash more horror, more physical intensity, more existential dread. And at first, it delivers. The opening is gripping and beautifully unsettling. But sadly, that promise fades. Despite the weighty themes and powerful setting, the story gradually distances itself – until all that remains is atmosphere without impact.

The novel takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where a climate catastrophe has rendered the outside uninhabitable. The protagonist lives cloistered in the “House of the Holy Sisterhood,” a strict religious order that demands absolute devotion to an unseen figure known only as “Him.” Inside this isolated community, a rigid hierarchy rules: the Enlightened – women sanctified by self-inflicted mutilation like sewn-shut eyes or pierced eardrums – sit at the top, while the Unworthy, including our unnamed narrator, serve in silence below. Her inner struggle for identity, status, and meaning forms the heart of the book.

On paper, this sounds like a deeply layered, chilling dystopia. And at first, it feels like one. Bazterrica conjures a dense, oppressive atmosphere full of hushed fears, ritualized violence, and internalized guilt. You can feel the cold of the stone corridors, the stiff silence of obedience, the eerie weight of submission.

But the deeper the novel goes, the more it loses momentum. The many ideas – ideological extremism, gendered hierarchies, structural violence, and post-collapse despair – are introduced but never truly explored. It’s not that the novel lacks depth, but rather that it refuses to dive. Characters behave like symbols rather than people, and the story often gestures toward meaning without ever fully delivering it. It hovers in a frustrating space: too vague to be satisfying, too explicit to be mysterious.

The middle of the book drifts into repetition and introspection, without significant development. The mysterious outsider who should disrupt the system remains thinly drawn. Even the narrator’s inner transformation feels abstract, observed from a distance rather than lived.

And yet – I wanted to love this book. The setting is original. The themes matter. The Unworthy clearly wants to explore how radical belief can fill the void with a broken world, how even in all-female communities oppressive dynamics persist, and how trauma, control, and ritual intertwine. But something essential is missing. Urgency? Emotional stakes? A bold narrative choice to pull it all together?

Bazterrica’s intentions are evident and compelling. She paints a picture of how faith can become violence, how power can corrupt even the isolated, how structure can stifle the soul. And still, the book remains frustratingly elusive – heavy in meaning, but somehow hollow in execution.

The Unworthy is filled with bold ideas, striking imagery, and timely critique. But Bazterrica doesn’t quite turn those pieces into a cohesive, gripping narrative. It’s an atmospheric experience, yes – but emotionally distant. Like standing before an ornate, locked door with no key. If you crave dystopias that shake you to your core, you might be drawn in by the beginning – but the story’s promise fades into a fog that never clears.

Reading Recommendation? ✘
Favourite? ✘