The Unworthy

“Without faith, there is no refuge.”

Brutal, unnerving, and poignant, The Unworthy (2025) is a novel bordering the genres of speculative fiction and post-apocalyptic horror, and one which grapples with the question: is the loss of one’s humanity a worthy price for survival? The story follows the narrator—an unnamed woman in a dark and secretive convent known as the Sacred Sisterhood—as she recounts her life through a series of diary entries “...in whatever she can find—discarded ink, dirt, and even her own blood.” The world around her has become a wasteland, subject to an undisclosed environmental disaster where the air is now a toxic “haze” and entire cities are submerged in water. While the House of the Sacred Sisterhood provides a refuge from the outside world, life within the convent walls is far from comfortable: the convent maintains a strict hierarchy where the lower members, called the “unworthy,” are first only to servants and the higher members, the “chosen” and “enlightened,” are closer to the group’s center—including the “Superior Sister” and the all-powerful “He.” Fed on a diet of cricket meal and made to live in windowless cells, the lower ranking members reside among cockroaches and vermin while their superiors enjoy fresh fruits and vegetables within the mysterious “inner sanctum.”

Agustina Bazterrica is perhaps best known for her evocative, cannibalistic horror, Tender is the Flesh (2017), but the story she tells in The Unworthy is no less compelling. While the former work presents a keen critique of capitalism and exploitation, the latter demonstrates the manipulative nature of religion and the weaponization of language. Those deemed “Unworthy” cannot hope to understand the language used by the “Enlightened,” nor can they express their desires outwardly or even speak certain words, for fear of punishment. What transpires within the convent is an atmosphere of brutality bordering sadism: women savor the misfortune of their fellow sisters and take turns meting out punishment for wrongdoers—including beatings, humiliation, needle-pricking, flagellation, and burning. Of course, the novel is not merely an exploration of body horror—it is a discussion of the nature of oppression seen through the eyes of the narrator, who begins to question the convent and her own place within it when a new initiate, Lucia, joins the order. Long-forgotten memories begin to resurface and the secrets surrounding the Sacred Sisterhood begin to emerge as the narrator becomes closer to the merciful Lucia.

Although I haven’t previously read Bazterrica’s work, I love the horror genre and was certainly not disappointed with The Unworthy. The blend of psychological horror, body horror, feminism, and religion in the novel comes together in a way that is nuanced and compelling. Uncomfortable descriptions of the macabre and violent customs of the convent are commonplace and the act of “sewing eyes shut” is routinely done to higher-ranking members. However, the violence and gore depicted in the novel are necessary to reveal the central themes of language, survival, religious fanaticism, oppression, and female autonomy. The relationship between the narrator and Lucia is the primary focus of the story and what ultimately culminates in the truth of the Sacred Sisterhood being unraveled. If you enjoy horror, speculative fiction, and feminist literature, Bazterrica’s The Unworthy is worth a read.