It is hard to put into words how an Agustina Bazterrica book makes me feel. I'm always struck by the amount of longing and loneliness that comes through in her work even though it is objectively a horror or dystopian story. This one in particular struck several nerves, especially in struggling to remember traumatic experiences as well as crying over things that you would never get to experience. Overall this story was a wonderful internal narrative, one that is going to stick around for a while. It's also terrifying in the way that it strikes as a definite possibility, especially in today's world and political climate. I think it definitely needs to be added to the list of dystopian books to read and watch if you are trying to become more aware of society around you, because while it doesn't explain a whole lot about the larger universe it is more accurate to the way that everyday people would be affected. I also appreciate that the horror aspect of it while graphic was not so graphic that it was unreadable. I was horrified but not so horrified that I couldn't read it. All in all another wonderful work from a favorite author.

Thank you Scribner and Netgalley for the ARC.

This was a unique take on cult horror. We normally see more perspective of the leader yet this focused on those that carrier out his commands. Only in the very end did we meet the "Him" that entrapped the women. It was a fascinating exploration of victims becoming perpetrators, all while still being victims.

I enjoyed the diary style of writing, but at times, it felt a little too cerebral for me. I enjoy slightly more straight forward writing, but the themes and stories Agustina Bazterrica tells are fascinating.

The ending was great. I loved the representation of queer love, and I actually did enjoy not giving power to the man in this book by allowing his story to be told.

4.25 rounded down to 4.

Thank you NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.

This was violent, stressful and extremely relevant to read at the moment. The Unworthy takes place in a dystopian future, where it is never explained, but assumed that massive weather due to climate change, along with the downfall of technology/electronics and potentially AI, leave the world in ruins. It seems like disease is also running rampant. Humans are mostly wiped off of the earth, but there is this little religious cult that seems to accept only wandering young women. In this "convent" of sorts, the women fight to become one of the "Enlightened Ones," and there's this entire structural system in place based on the amount you sacrifice and atone for.

I don't think I've read a bleaker book - the main character is secretly writing a journal about her experience at this convent, and while she writes she remembers events that led up to her current situation. In her flashbacks, you see how the world came to be, what she endured, and how her current situation essentially brainwashed her. We are thrown into this story with no explanation whatsoever about the current state of the world, or what the purpose of the convent really was. It took me a little bit to get into the rhythm of the writing style, but once I did it was hard to put this book down. A lot of the story came together as it progressed, but I was still left with some questions about this religious cult - what were their motives? What exactly happened that caused the world to end up the way it did? When did this all happen?

This was a very effective, terrifying glimpse into what the world could become. I thoroughly enjoyed the brutality and bleakness. I also liked the internal struggle we got to see with our main character, and how she fought the brainwashing she seemed to have succumbed to.

Mild spoiler, there is a bit of a violent animal death, among other types of abuse and torture that might be triggering.

Thank you so much to NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC of this book! I loved Tender is the Flesh, so I was excited to see that the author was coming out with her translated version of The Unworthy. Similar to her previous book, this book centered themes around environmental disasters, dystopian societies, and power struggles between classes. I was very confused at the beginning of this book as it did not give much context to how they became this dystopian society. Some information about this is peppered in later on. No significant character development or world building happened, which was disappointing because this story had a lot of potential. The author’s writing is poignant yet vague and skims over valuable details. Nothing significant happened until the end of the book, although it was predictable to me.

I still have every intention of eventually picking up <i>Tender is the Flesh</i>, but as a first experience with this author, it could've gone better.

Unfortunately, I found myself very bored with this book. It was a lot of beautiful -- if repetitive -- prose, but nothing really happened and there aren't enough answers given or world-building developed, and so every time I sat down to read this, I found myself regularly either falling asleep or thinking about other things. My mind shouldn't wander when reading a literary horror book and yet it did, a lot.

I kept hoping something would happen, especially after she found the wanderer in the Tower of Silence, but it was more of the same. And the ending? So meh.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC in exchange for an honest review!

Well, well, well. This was my first Agustina Bazterrica novel, as I couldn't quite stomach Tender is the Flesh (I was bound eventually to find my threshold). That being said, I can understand why people love her work, but I don't think it's for me. I will always be interested in queer horror, religious perversions, and the intersection of the two (hence the still decent rating), but both the pacing and the lack of world-building lost me here. It's a good story - don't get me wrong - but fell short of the high expectations I had for the author.

It took me weeks to shake the haunting images from my mind after reading Agustina Bazterrica’s Tender Is The Flesh. Naturally I jumped at the opportunity for another visceral, disturbing, entirely believable tear through the worst of human nature. This book is all at once about the slow moving climate disaster, post-apocalyptic dystopia, religion as a manipulative tool, mutilation, feminism, patriarchy, suffering, love, confinement, sacrifice and liberation. There truly remains nothing scarier than the darkest recesses of deranged humans, I’m grateful to have found an author who so beautifully puts those thoughts together and a translator who capably carries the meaning without losing the effect. Thanks to the author, Simon & Schuster the publisher and NetGalley for the advanced reader copy.

So, the narrative style in this one didn’t quite click with me, which made the first half feel like a bit of a slog. It’s told through the protagonist’s secret writings, covering both past and present events in a dystopian world. The tone is really bleak, almost monotone, and that made it tough to get through at first. But I stuck with it, and by the time I hit around 40%, things finally started to pick up. I guess I’m stubborn—after Tender is the Flesh, I wanted to see where this one would go.
The story takes place in a future that feels pretty hopeless, mostly set in a convent with a heavy, suffocating atmosphere, kind of like The Handmaid’s Tale. It also gave me the same unsettling vibe as The Village and Junji Ito’s Madonna (from Liminal Space), but with Baztericca's own twisted, dark spin. The writing really captures that sense of despair and confinement. It wasn’t my favorite, but I can appreciate how unique it is. I’d give it 3 stars for being dark, eerie, and memorable in its own way.

I think this would flow a lot better as a graphic novel! I would love to see that!

Probably the best opening paragraph to a story I have read in a long time. It definitely sets the tone of the book and we get a very engaging story of a dystopian world where the main character has found refuge with a convent that has very untraditional and horrifying practices. The main character's way of thinking was written very well and matter of fact, especially when discussing what led to her finding the convent. I think anyone who enjoyed Tender is the Flesh, will enjoy this as well. Bazterrica is an author I'm always excited to read from.

I honestly have no idea how to sum up my thoughts on this book. It was both utterly horrific and beautiful. You will be confused and adrift but every so often you’ll get glimmer of what’s going on and it will keep you glued to the page. I’m just at a loss for words 😅 This will stick with me for awhile.

A huge thanks to Netgalley,, Agustina Bazterrica, and Scribner for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Rated 4.75 stars on StiryGraph. The Unworthy is a beautifully disorienting book. The novel takes place in an incredibly violent convent of a mysterious religious order while the outside world seems to be undergoing an apocalypse. The unnamed narrator secretly records the happenings of the convent; sometimes with ink left behind the monks who used to inhabit the convent and may be haunting the place, sometimes with ink she makes, sometimes dirt, and other times with her own blood.
I enjoyed this book so much. I rarely had any idea of what would happen next, but it felt inevitable anyways. It was gorgeously written, it was lyrical, disturbing, and sucked me right in. The narrator was incredibly well written, I knew her so well but at the same time knew nothing about her. The plot was so interesting, I couldn't bring myself to put it down, I read it all in one sitting. It also had what I think was the perfect ending.
I would definitely recommend this book. The graphic violence may be a deterrent for some readers, but to me it was perfect.
Thank you to Scribner and NetGalley for this advanced copy.

The Unworthy by Agustina Bazterrica is an intense, thought-provoking novel that plunges readers into a chilling, dystopian world where the unthinkable becomes a routine part of life. Bazterrica's writing is both haunting and masterful, blending an eerie sense of unease with sharp social commentary.

The novel explores a society in which the "unworthy"—those deemed unnecessary or undesirable—are systematically marginalized and ultimately sacrificed for the greater good. It takes place in a stark, almost clinical setting, and Bazterrica’s stark descriptions of the dehumanization of these individuals is unsettling but undeniably powerful. As the protagonist navigates this grim reality, the lines between morality and survival blur, leaving readers to question the very nature of worth, humanity, and ethical responsibility.

What struck me most about The Unworthy is how it lingers in the mind long after reading. Bazterrica doesn't just craft a gripping narrative; she presents a deeply disturbing social critique that forces readers to confront uncomfortable truths about our own society. The tension in the book is palpable, with each page turning up the heat as the protagonist’s fate becomes increasingly uncertain.

I agree with your view—it is absolutely a brilliant read. Bazterrica’s ability to combine disturbing themes with insightful reflections on societal structures makes this book a standout. The pacing is tight, the atmosphere is heavy with dread, and the emotional and intellectual payoff is immense. It’s a novel that challenges you, makes you think, and stays with you long after the final page.

If you're looking for a read that combines horror, psychological depth, and sharp social commentary, The Unworthy is an outstanding choice. It’s the kind of book that doesn’t just entertain; it makes you think deeply about the world and our place within it.

Think Lord of the Flies + Catherine House, presented as fragments of journal entries, The Unworthy in an immersive speculative fiction about a small community of survivors in a post-apocalyptic world. Soaked in vibe and purposefully ambiguous, do not go into The Unworthy expecting an traditional narrative with a defined exposition, and closure with answers (also, stayed away from the synopsis on Goodreads, as it essentially covers 60% of the plot), instead, the strength of this novella lies in its poetically grotesque imagery (sadistic behavior within a religious environment), world-building, powerful prose, and bread crumbs of clues available for interpretation.

Tender Is the Flesh is a difficult one to follow, as the subject matter in that novel was so under-discussed (in fiction), and the presentation so effortlessly shocking. In comparison, The Unworthy was almost too obvious of an attempt trying to recreate a similar impact, but its theme / commentary felt overly familiar (there are already loads of medias out there covering similar topics), and the violence less well-integrated, but mostly there for shock value. However, judging on its own it is still a provocative read with vivid writing and morbid imagination, just don't let the halo of Tender Is the Flesh cloud your expectation.

liana stovall <lianastovall@gmail.com>
9:42 PM (0 minutes ago)
to me

While I was impressed by Bazterrica’s writing style, her storytelling felt flat. This felt like a half-baked, more violent and abstract version of The Handmaid’s Tale; it’s like rotting fruit arranged in a beautiful basket.



In a dystopian post-apocalyptic disaster, the narrator writes on forbidden paper in her cell of the House of the Sacred Sisterhood. She lives in a class of women deemed the Unworthy, living in a weird religious sect that seems to be the only surviving group left of civilization. The ranks (in order of hierarchy, and matched with corresponding HMT knockoffs) are:

- Him (heavy-handed metaphor for the patriarchy);
- Superior Sister (Great Value Aunt Lydia);
- The Enlightened (Wives);
- The Unworthy (handmaids); and,
- And the servants (Marthas).

Daily life in the sisterhood demands sacrifice, atonement, self-mutilation and abuse, and depraved creativity to design punishments to inflict on your fellow sisters when they piss off the Superior Sister. Everyone is pitted against each other for survival.



Bazterrica cleverly disguises her hollow story with descriptive writing and torture porn scenes that would give even a US federal prison guard nightmares. There’s no discernible depth or layers to any of it. The world she built is one-dimensional. She gives you *just* enough details to give context, but not nearly enough to persuade the reader that even the author buys what she’s writing. The premise is fascinating, and I am sorely disappointed in the outcome. The author abused shock value and cruelty to distract her audience from the lack of substance.



I’d just read Handmaid’s Tale and call it a day.

Another excellent novel from Agustina Bazterrica, “The Unworthy” is a dark thriller that will certainly haunt me for a while. In today’s climate, it hits close to home. The narrator was perfect in every way, telling her story while still keeping a sense of mystery and dread. I enjoyed this book!

Agustina Bazterrica’s The Unworthy is a chilling, provocative journey into a crumbling world where violence and faith intertwine, and survival often means surrendering to unthinkable forces. Known for her harrowing novel Tender Is the Flesh, Bazterrica once again demonstrates her mastery of literary horror, crafting a story as gripping as it is unsettling.

Set in a dystopian future ravaged by environmental collapse, the novel takes place primarily within the confines of a secretive convent. The narrator, a low-ranking member of the Sacred Sisterhood, recounts her life through whatever means are available—blood, dirt, and scraps of ink—highlighting her desperation and the constraints of her existence. Her voice is raw, fragmented, and achingly human as she grapples with her desire to ascend to the Enlightened, a mysterious elite within the convent, and to gain approval from the ominous Superior Sister.

Bazterrica weaves an oppressive atmosphere that feels both otherworldly and disturbingly familiar. The convent’s rigid, punishing structure reflects the broader chaos of the outside world, where society has crumbled under the weight of environmental disaster. The juxtaposition of these two realms—a controlled yet abusive sanctuary versus a brutal, lawless landscape—raises compelling questions about safety, autonomy, and the cost of survival.

When a newcomer disrupts the convent’s fragile order, the narrator’s carefully constructed world begins to unravel. This new relationship forces her to confront buried memories, question the truth about the Enlightened, and reconsider her role within the Sisterhood. Bazterrica excels at exploring the dynamics of power, loyalty, and manipulation, all while maintaining an air of dread that permeates the story.

Moses’s translation captures the novel’s lyrical yet visceral prose, ensuring that every detail—no matter how grotesque or beautiful—lands with full impact. The novel’s pacing is deliberate, with tension building to an unforgettable climax that leaves readers reeling and questioning the systems we cling to in times of crisis.

The Unworthy is not a comfortable read, but it is an essential one. Its exploration of ideological extremism, environmental ruin, and the ways humanity can warp in the face of desperation is both timely and timeless. Bazterrica invites readers to confront their own fears and complicities, offering a story that lingers long after the final page.

It is a dauntingly haunting and descriptive book about such dark elements and why they exist. This book is riddled with eerie tides and the walls that confine them. I implore you to enter a world filled with punishing imagination and ruthless elegance on this grungy cult capture.

This novel is one that twists its way deep inside, carving out a space for itself to grow and infest your thoughts. It is a striking examination of power and autonomy, and the many forces at play that threaten our ability to experience ourselves, fully.

The novel is short but uses its pages wisely, cutting to the bone repeatedly. There is some repetition, but that is part of the world-building, part of really developing the atmosphere. This is what is probably most intense in this story, the world and how it is presented to us. As the whole story is written as essentially secret entries in a forbidden journal the world is built first around a small thing, a personal experience, and then it grows outward until we have more and more of the world revealed. It is really skillfully done and it leaves the reader in a constant state of anticipation. The state of the world is detailed enough that we can really feel like we are there, and yet it is still riddled with questions. How it got to be the way it is and how it might have changed since our main character entered this “convent,” these are all left open. This isn’t by accident, the desperate grip of not-knowing, the pain and fear that comes from that lack of control, is a pervasive aspect of this story. The world feels very real and complete and yet also a painful mystery, striking a really enticing balance. The character work is splendid as well, but again something that is done in a cryptic way. We get a good picture of our main character, but it takes a while, her life is one of dissimulation as a means of survival. Similarly her descriptions of the ancillary character often reduce them to how they affect her, so in some ways we learn more about her when she discusses them than we do about them. Still, while we don’t get any robust lives or interiority of the other characters they do all feel genuine and real, they fit in this environment, this broken world. None of them feel convenient or simple, even when we only get to experience them in glimpses.

There isn’t a whole lot of story here, or narrative. We are slowly brought into this world, and for about half the book the terror of the mundane is established, and instead of strong narrative we get an exploration of character and place, a deep disquiet and sense of unease, mixed with confusion and a clear sense of injustice, of betrayal (without knowing quite where to aim that experience). About halfway through there is a major inflection point and there starts to be the semblance of something more narrative, but the story is never really driven by narrative or plot. It is there, eventually, but it is all in service of the character and the ideas the story is asking. The writing goes a long way to develop that atmosphere and parallel those ideas. Obviously there is an intimacy, a complicity, whenever a book is structured as journal entries, magnifying the normal intimacy of first-person narration to a sometimes uncomfortable degree. But another wonderful technique employed here is that there are frequently terms or even passages that are crossed-out or struck-through, the terrifying inner parts of our main character that she is scared to admit, that escape her but she has to hide them even from herself. We get to learn a lot about her by seeing what she is afraid of having said. This isn’t overused, it isn’t a crutch, but it does add a lot to the overall experience. The writing often comes off as descriptive and demure, a woman afraid to let her feelings show through. But it is a barely contained fury, a gnashing of teeth and a vicious snarl, hiding under almost every word of these journal entries. Sometimes the subtext does make its way to the surface, with these poetic, almost elegiac phrases and ideas, speculation about reality, about beauty, about power and violence, about destruction and preservation, that never feel indulgent but instead really help shape the character. This mix of unadorned description with poetic and emotional experience works really well. It kept me captivated and continually lost in this world, hoping for the best but never feeling safe.

This story brings up a lot of ideas, from climate destruction to misogyny to blind devotion to purity and morality and more. But it doesn’t ever really give any clear answers about anything. Sure, exploitation and abuse are bad, I suppose that is clear, but everything else is murky. What does it mean for a victim to become an abuser, especially if that is in service of (or believed to be in service of) their own survival (both physical and mental)? How can power and faith be majestic and salvific while also crippling and dehumanizing? What responsibilities do we have outside of our own preservation, especially in a broken world that seems like an active threat to our mere existence? And more. This is where your enjoyment of the novel may vary. Because like I said, these are ideas that run through the whole story, but there is never any nice or clean resolution. Many of them are unspoken, with shame and frustration being the tea leaves left behind through which we divine them. The story is asking you to confront these complicated ideas and isn’t particularly interested in holding your hand in the process. That is not everyone’s cup of tea. If you want to see characters reason and struggle through these ideas, and if you want to see journeys that pay off those struggles, well, you might feel a little underwhelmed here. This novel is a rich and messy exploration of a lot of things, and it does have some clear opinions, but the characters and the experience of the novel aren’t situated within any sort of comfortable, neat and tidy resolution. It is a series of painful boils being lanced and exposed, humanity in its glories and flaws being laid open to contend with, but not to solve.

I am really glad I read this story. It is short, like I said, read in a day. But I can already tell it will sit with me. It has some really poignant imagery, with an almost tactile feeling to the prose, to the sentimentality. I do appreciate narrative and wouldn’t have minded if there was a little more here, but that kind of momentum or propulsion clearly isn’t the intent. The characters are somehow covered in shrouds, hidden under the shadow of veils, and yet rich and specific. There may not be a strong narrative but there is a journey, and I felt for our main character, she drew me in. I don’t know this is a fun story, it has a constant atmosphere of danger, of discomfort and mystery, but it is certainly one I appreciate.

(Rounded up from 3.5)

I want to thank the author, the publisher Scribner, and NetGalley, who provided a complimentary eARC for review. I am leaving this review voluntarily.

"I wonder if God is the hunger behind hunger and if behind God lurks the hunger for another God."

Set in a convent, The House of the Sacred Sisterhood, and its after the climate crisis has brought almost complete devastation and infections into the world. The sadistic convent has replaced God with a mysterious "he" who is followed by a ruthless woman, aka "mother," who revels in torture, violence, and murder...

The book is short but extremely repetitive, moving from prayer to punishment and then right back again. Plus, the women are all separated into classes that basically compete to climb the social ladder and be chosen as an Englightened.

This just wasn't for me. I won't say it's a bad book, but between missing plot holes and no character development or depth, it just wasn't for me. The splatterpunk element is done very well 👌🏼 and maybe I am missing something or even the whole point of the book 📖 🤷🏼‍♀️

without faith, there is no refuge

this mantra repeated throughout the book is kind of what you have to tell yourself to get through the beginning. while i'm almost certain how disorienting it is to be thrown into this world is at least somewhat intentional, it does make it a bit of a slog to get into at first. once you can being to piece things together it gets much easier to read. the author is wonderful at describing the oftentimes horrific scenes, making them seem almost beautiful despite the dread you feel as you read what's happening to these women.

unfortunately, the ending is a bit rushed, unfolding within a few pages and ending abruptly. despite this, it's an overall good read. the world outside of the sacred sisterhood is interesting, especially towards the end.

overall, 3.5 stars, rounded up.