Agustina Bazterrica is back with a new novel and I liked it, even though it starts out a little too slow. The Unworthy is set in a dystopian world that has been decimated by climate disasters and wars over water, leaving nothing but a wasteland of disease and violent weather events. In the House of the Sacred Sisterhood, women seek refuge but end up trapped in a brutal cult. The Mother Superior rules with an iron fist, and above her is “Him," a mysterious figure no one is allowed to look at. The story is told through secret diary entries and they are bleak.

If you've read Tender Is the Flesh, you know how this author writes. It's all dread, all the time. The Unworthy is about survival in a world where hope is a dangerous thing. Even though it's a short novel at 192 pages, it takes a while to get a good feel for exactly what is going on. The second half of the book saves it and is worth the slow buildup to get there.

I think my review is going to be as messy as this book. The first part was like getting cold water thrown in my face. It was shocking, and left me confused. But I was also willing to give the book time to help me understand.

The cruelty and horror at the beginning eventually levels out and becomes less psychedelic, but the horror doesn't stop. Check for content warnings!

Eventually, the narrator starts having flashbacks, and begins to remember her life before the convent. It was interesting, and I could have read an entire book about the narrator's survival story. But she ends up in the crazy convent and it felt like the book is two different stories.

In the end, I think a lot of horror fans will love this book. I'm glad I read it, and would recommend to readers who like lyricism mixed with their horror.

I was excited to pick up The Unworthy, having been deeply affected by Agustina Bazterrica’s Tender Is the Flesh and its disturbing vision of a dystopian society. Once again, Bazterrica crafts a chilling, thought-provoking world—this time centering on a ruthless religious order operating in the midst of global turmoil.
The novel centers on an unnamed young woman confined within a rigid and oppressive convent ruled by the Sacred Sisterhood. Branded as an "unworthy," she is forced to endure harsh rituals and strict hierarchies while desperately striving to earn a place among the revered Enlightened. Isolated and silenced, she secretly records her thoughts and experiences in a forbidden diary, scrawling her truth with whatever materials she can find—discarded ink, dirt, even her own blood— no matter how crude or desperate.
Bazterrica’s writing is both haunting and poetic, pulling readers deep into the grim reality of the protagonist’s existence. She has a rare talent for crafting dystopian worlds that feel disturbingly plausible—less like an imagined future and more like a hidden truth lurking beneath the surface. Her storytelling doesn’t just depict bleak realities; it immerses you in them, making every brutal detail feel urgent and unavoidable. The Unworthy once again blurs the line between fiction and foresight, leaving readers unsettled by how easily her nightmarish vision could become our own. Told through diary entries, the narrative feels intimate and immediate, heightening the novel’s emotional impact—I couldn’t put it down and finished it in one sitting!
Having grown up Catholic, I found that the religious rituals in The Unworthy, though grotesque and extreme, struck a deeply unsettling chord. Agustina Bazterrica draws from her own experiences in Catholic school, where she witnessed a stark contrast between the ideals of love and the often cruel reality of human behavior. While some aspects were definitely hyperbolic, they didn’t lessen the novel’s impact—though they may be more divisive for certain readers.
Overall, The Unworthy is a harrowing and hypnotic read, one that lingers long after the final page. Bazterrica masterfully weaves horror and social commentary into a narrative that is both visceral and thought-provoking, forcing readers to confront unsettling questions about faith, power, and survival. Her ability to create immersive, nightmarish worlds makes this novel an unflinching and unforgettable experience. Fans of Tender Is the Flesh or dystopian fiction that pushes boundaries will find much to admire here.
Thank you to NetGalley and Scribner for the opportunity to read this ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Agustina Bazterrica has done it again! First off, the cover is incredible and stunning. I liked that Agustina went in a completely different direction from Tender is the Flesh. The beginning was confusing for me but paid off as far as setting the scene of this apocalyptic "convent". The pacing felt intentional and well executed. One of my most anticipated releases for this year and I wasn't disappointed. I love Bazterrica's prose. Will review on. my page when I pick up the physical copy.

3.5 Rounded Down!

After "Tender is the Flesh", Augustina Bazterrica has become an author whose works I will pretty much automatically seek out. However, it seems like her standout novel has already been written...

"The Unworthy" only partially worked for me and I had to get close to the end to enjoy it. The first half is very slow, methodically explaining how the covenant operates and infused with generously detailed scenes of self-flagellation. There's no real plot to be found until halfway through the book, and then things finally start to pick up.

Once the ball got rolling, I was really enjoying the world building. Like "Tender is the Flesh", "The Unworthy" is set in a world ravished by environmental disasters and diseases. Our narrator describes her wandering expeditions before finding the covenant and it's extremely bleak. I thought it boded well with the introduction of Lucia, a new member of the covenant that our narrator is inexplicitly drawn to. Lucia embodies what our narrator has lost- mercy, love, hope. I loved this character and this arc for our narrator. It gave the novel the necessary emotional aspect it was lacking in the beginning.

Eventually, the novel wraps up without too much explanation. There's sort of a twist that I had guessed at, but the purpose behind everything is never explained. Personally, I felt like a little exploration of the why and the how would've been really interesting. However, I think that our narrators journey had an appropriate character arc and eventual end. I'm not mad, but I'm not in love with this one.

Was very good, I feel like all of Bazterrica's books have a different vibe to them and this one was no different. I felt incredibly stressed for the main character but loved the world built.

There is quiet horror, and then there is The Unworthy.

It is a dreadful feeling throughout the entire story. There is very little gore (if any, as a matter of opinion), but there is a lot of dread. Did I mention it is a dreadful story? No? Well… it is. If you are looking for a fast action-packed, gore-infested, high-octane story… this is not it.

Now that is out of the way… I enjoyed the story quite a bit. It is nothing like Tender Is The Flesh. But the writing style, the *dread* and the angsty feelings are loud and proud. I devoured this story in two days. I could not stop thinking about it when I had to pause to be an adult.
It’s a dystopian story with a bit of science fiction. A young girl is protected against a destroyed and tainted world. She keeps a hidden journal detailing what her life is like. A stranger comes to her commune and presents another level of *dread* and angst.

A *dreadfully* a delightful story. But it will not be for everyone.

The Unworthy by Agustina Bazterrica is a dark, unsettling, and deeply strange novel that lingers long after the final page. Set in a dystopian world where survival hinges on brutal rules and twisted hierarchies, the story is both disturbing and thought-provoking. Bazterrica’s writing is sharp and unflinching, pulling readers into a nightmarish society that challenges notions of humanity and morality. While the bleak atmosphere and graphic elements won’t be for everyone, I found myself captivated by the raw emotional undercurrents and unique world-building. A solid 4-star read for those who can handle its intensity.

When the book starts with this, you know you are in for a ride: "Someone is screaming in the dark. I hope it's Lourdes. I put cockroaches in her pillow and sewed up the slip. So they struggle to get out, so they crawl under her head or over her face (and into her ears, I hope, nesting there, the nymphs damaging her brain). I left small gaps between the stitches so the cockroaches would escape slowly, so it would take effort, like when I trap them (imprison them) in my hands. Some of them bite. They have flexible skeletons; they can flatten themselves and fit through tiny spaces, live without heads for days, survive underwater for a long time. They' re fascinating."

The back story is a climate crisis where the world turned into this uninhabitable, stripped off of daily technology we take for granted, scarry place. But I'm not sure if the life Sacred Sisterhood leads with their new man god who is the definition of post atomic bomb level toxic patriarchy is any better. I might choose dying in dystopian regular hell hole of world than within the walls of Sacred Sisterhood compound eating cricket based food.

Told from one of the unworthies point of view, horrors woman face as part of this cult is going to hurt your soul. Bazterrica has an extremely creative but equally scarry imagination, and I'm here for it. She creates readable gore, and that's a thing on its own.

I dnfed this book at 30%. It might be because it was translated, but I had a hard time following the story.

This was absolutely incredible—dark, unsettling, and so gripping from start to finish.

Her writing has this raw, intense quality that makes even the most disturbing moments impossible to look away from. It’s a brutal look at power, control, and dehumanization, and just like *Tender Is the Flesh*, it forces you to sit with the discomfort of its world. I loved every second of it—easily a 5-star read!

Agustina Bazterrica’s latest novel is a feverish dream about a not-too-far dystopian future and the brutality of which man (and women, but especially men) will still be capable, even with the world collapsing.

Honestly, at first, it wasn't easy to feel involved in it, nor was it to follow the back-and-forth narration with little to no context but, once you get the hang of it, you won’t be able to put it down.

Thanks to Scribner and NetGalley, who provided me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest opinion.

Am I glad I read it? I was prepared to be disappointed by this one by the end of the first half, but I stuck it out and am ultimately glad that I did.

Thematically, this book is right up my alley: I love critical explorations of religion and how, at its extremes, it can warp itself and its followers into something violent and judgmental and oppressive. It's like catnip to me! I'm writing this review about a week after having finished the book, and I've found that this book resonates with me more as I sit with it. Like with 'Tender is the Flesh', Bazterrica doesn't shy away from putting horrifically gruesome imagery directly one the page, which is one of the things I enjoy about her writing. I think she's particularly skilled at showing how individuals, sympathetic individuals even, can come do terrible things as part of the institutional machine they exist within. A religious cult, then, ostensibly a place of safety, of refuge, is the perfect setting to probe the manipulation of supplicants into violence unto themselves and their fellow supplicants and self-erasure in the pursuit of virtue, of "worthiness." That the narrator, the writer of the diary entries, remains unnamed, is *chef's kiss*.

The secret diary entry format serves the story really well. The close narrative focus lends the story a suffocating feel, like dense haze that threatens the Refuge, and facilitates the book's exploration of fragmented memory and trauma and warped truth nicely.

My one major complaint about this book, and the reason that I nearly DNF'd it early on, is that I found it quite difficult to get into. The diary entry format, macabre slice-of-life narrative approach, and the immediate introduction of so many figures (e.g., Minor Saints, Chosen, Enlightened, Superior Sister) and places in the House meant that I felt lost and disconnected from the story for a good chunk of the beginning. In short, this one required patience.

Side note: I also really appreciate the 'hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil' iconography of the Full Aura, Minor Saints, and Diaphanous Spirits, respectively. Clever, subtle bit of imagery there. Yet another reason I'm glad to have stuck it out.

Rating: 👍🏻 (liked)

I loved Tender is the Flesh, but this was a flop for me. Incredibly slow and repetitive with a boring plot.

I wanted to love this one but I just couldn’t connect to it. The writing felt stiff and I just wanted more from the story.

In an apocalyptic future where climate change and AI have ravaged the Earth, there lies a secret Eden where some women are invited in to show their devotion and piety to an unknown religious hierarchy in hopes of becoming one of the “chosen.” Naturally, we start to see the threads unravel while showing us the depths of depravity in which the last dregs of humanity have sunk.

I got a little confused keeping some of the characters straight with the weaving of past and current timelines. I’d suggest powering through, because it reveals itself full circle the further you read. For such a straightforward, somewhat predictable premise, it’s no less terrifying as a reader especially as a woman.

If you liked Tender is the Flesh, I think you’ll like this one too. There’s a smidge more hope in this book (a miniscule amount, really) but it’s going to piss you off just as much as Tender - if not more. No matter how the subject matter of her books make you feel, you can sense the author’s strength and defiance in her writing even if it’s frustrating to read. Her books are short, but heavy. I’m hoping it’s cathartic for the author to write these things.

The Unworthy will definitely clench your butt so please make sure to observe some proper self-care while reading this one.

Thank you to Scribner Pub and NetGalley for the gifted e-copy in exchange for an honest review.

I wanted so much more from this. Tender the Flesh was disgusting and horrifying and I couldn’t look away. This was kind of… ordinary, and sort of boring. I think maybe I came in with too high expectations, and that’s on me.

5 stars
Thank you to NetGalley, Agustina Bazterrica, and Simon and Schuster for this ARC!

The Unworthy by Augustina Bazterrica is an apocolyptic/dystopian horror. One of the places to seek shelter is a covenant of nuns but it comes with a cost in order to shift to a worthy status within to become Enlightened. The plot of this book was interesting and I always felt an urge to know more about this religious cult. Augustina's ability to turn even grotesque and disturbing things lyrical with her writing style is just the whole cake every time!

TW: The Unworthy deals in Sexual abuse, sexual scenes, discriptive violence (including torture, and death). PLEASE MAKE SURE TO CHECK FULL LIST OF TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!

<i>The Unworthy</i> builds on Agustina Bazterrica’s previous work, particularly <i>Tender Is the Flesh</i>, in its ability to construct an all-encompassing, eerie atmosphere that lingers long after the final page. This time, she turns her unflinching gaze toward a world undone by environmental collapse, where faith has metastasized into something brutal and inescapable. <i>The Unworthy</i> unspools with suffocating intensity, blurring the line between devotion and indoctrination, safety and captivity. As the narrator’s belief system begins to fracture, the novel forces readers to interrogate the cost of survival in a world where power thrives on submission. Bazterrica masterfully unearths the psychological toll of repression, making every revelation feel like both a liberation and a horror. The novel doesn’t just ask what happens when the truth is uncovered—it demands we consider the consequences of seeing it too late. Bazterrica’s signature is her ability to make horror feel intimate, inescapable. <i>The Unworthy</i> is a claustrophobic fever dream where devotion and violence are indistinguishable, and where faith—like flesh—is something to be sacrificed. It pulses with dread, but also with aching humanity, exploring the fine line between belief and brainwashing, survival and complicity. Unsettling and deeply thought-provoking, this novel solidifies Bazterrica as a master of feminist dystopian horror.

<i>Thank you to the publishers and author for this e-arc!!</i>

"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, 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.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Blood (severe), Gore (severe), Torture (severe), Self Harm (minor), Confinement (minor), Murder (minor), Fire (minor), Misogyny (severe), Animal Death (moderate), Death of Parent (minor), Sexual Content (minor), Sexual Assault (moderate), Grief (moderate), Violence (severe).