A review by bisexualbookshelf
The Unworthy by Agustina Bazterrica

dark mysterious tense fast-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? A mix
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? Yes
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? No

4.5

"The truth is a sphere. We never see it whole, in its entirety. It slips down our throats, through our thoughts. The truth is changeable, it contracts, implodes, it’s powerful like a bullet. And it can be lethal."

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book is out now in the US.

Agustina Bazterrica’s The Unworthy is a fever dream of religious horror, a novella that burns with lyrical brutality. Told through the secret writings of an unnamed narrator, it unspools a world where faith is both refuge and terror, where women are categorized and mutilated in pursuit of divine purity, and where memory itself is a battleground. The House of the Sacred Sisterhood, ostensibly a sanctuary in the wake of an apocalyptic event, functions as a site of rigid religious hierarchy and grotesque violence. The narrator, desperate to be deemed worthy, documents her existence in stolen moments of defiance, her words pulsing with urgency, loss, and a fragile hope.

Bazterrica’s prose is hypnotic, swinging between fragmented recollection and poetic horror. The novel cultivates a suffocating, cult-like atmosphere, where belief is survival and doubt is a death sentence. The mantra—“Without faith, there is no refuge”—reverberates throughout, a chilling encapsulation of the Sisterhood’s philosophy. The narrator, classified as Unworthy, longs to ascend to the status of the Enlightened, fearing the disfigurement imposed on the Chosen. But as she uncovers the Sisterhood’s horrors
—including the sanctioned rape of the Enlightened—
her faith fractures, and love becomes the catalyst for her ultimate act of rebellion.

The novella’s thematic weight is staggering, grappling with religious trauma, authoritarianism, and the erasure of self under oppression. Women’s bodies are controlled and punished, their autonomy sacrificed to an unnamed man’s divine decree and the Superior Sister’s ruthless enforcement. Language and memory are wielded as tools of both control and resistance; in writing, the narrator reclaims what has been stolen from her. The text pulses with questions of truth—what is real, what is myth, and how does faith warp perception?

Despite its bleakness, The Unworthy is not without tenderness. The narrator’s growing attachment to Lucía, a woman who enters the Sisterhood and quickly becomes a source of fascination and longing, injects the story with a quiet, aching intimacy. Their relationship is fleeting yet profound, an ember of humanity in an otherwise barren landscape. In the end, the narrator’s sacrifice is not just for Lucía’s survival but for the preservation of truth, her words a final act of defiance against oblivion.

This novella is eerie, reflective, and beautifully sapphic. Not everything makes sense, nor does it need to—its power lies in its atmosphere, its language, its ability to unsettle. Read it in one sitting, if you can, and let it haunt you.

📖 Read this if you love: religious horror, cult narratives, and feminist dystopias; I Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman.

🔑 Key Themes: Religious Trauma and Control, Memory and Identity, Faith as Manipulation, Queerness and Forbidden Desire.
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