The Unworthy by Agustina Bazterrica
Many thanks to Scribner and NetGalley for providing me with
an advanced copy of Agustina Bazterrica’s new book The Unworthy. I was
drawn to the nun on the cover and the story about a mysterious convent called
the Sacred Sisterhood that borders on a cult. I was also curious about this
book due to Bazterrica’s popularity from her book Tender is the Flesh. Although
I haven’t read that book, I know that the book was widely popular especially during
the early days of the pandemic. I was a little intimidate by the topic of
cannibalism, but this book about fanaticism, religion, and cults seemed more up
my alley. The first half of the book doesn’t disappoint either. The narrator is
surreptitiously writing in her journal at night, detailing the arduous and
tedious events of life in this mysterious convent. These early sections detailing
the challenges she faces in trying to document the austerity and brutality of
the convent are enthralling, but also hard to read. Along with translator Sarah
Moses’s artful and descriptive language, Bazterrica creates a terrifying and
gruesome world that seemed to exist in some medieval nightmare realm where
madness, depravity and cruelty ruled people’s lives without much explanation or
hope. I found the different levels of devotion fascinating as well—some members
who seem to be pure and untouched are thoroughly mutilated, having their
eardrums ruptured or their eyes shown shut to further feel the sacred and
beatific emotions of the true god. These moments and their descriptions are
brutal and horrific, and I was really amazed at the various methods that Bazterrica
developed to further torture the members of the sect. I wondered whether these
were invented or if they were based on research. Furthermore, the narrator
describes the different areas in and around the Convent, and the mysteries they
hold. Interestingly, she often crosses out words and phrases in the book, and I
wasn’t completely sure why, especially if this journal is hidden from others,
with no real hope of anyone reading it. This choice does create a sense of
mystery, and I have my theories based on later events in the book. However,
Bazterrica also creates a sense of both mystery and dread about the different areas
in the convent, and we learn that she entered the convent, like many other
women, as a wanderer. These are often strangers who have made it through the
ravaged, apocalyptic landscape to this seeming refuge where there is shelter
and seemingly those who could help. However, due to a kind of virus or plague,
those wanderers often have to spend some time in the Cloister of Purification,
where the members can see if these wanderers are carrying the plague. Other
areas like the Creek of Madness or the Tower of Silence also offer some ominous
warnings based on their names, and I loved how mysterious and dreadful these
places seemed.
Yet, all is not as it seems, and the narrator also describes
the kind of jealousy and tribalism that slowly boils within the confines of the
convent. In particular, a new wanderer who arrives arouses something in the
narrator, eventually forcing her to unearth her long-buried memories of her
life before the Convent. While this second half of the book was compelling and
created a kind of twist I didn’t expect, I also felt like it wasn’t as
descriptive and developed as the kind of world building she did for the establishing
the kind of frozen world of the Convent and the brutality that the initiates
faced from the Superior Sister. I won’t detail the twists, but it was
surprising and it did hold my attention. If anything, I think this book offers
a powerful lesson for how we respond to both tragedies (or catastrophes) and
authority, and sadly how these two things are often linked in our society. I
also think that The Unworthy is a powerful reminder of how we often lose
our freedom and sometimes even our will when catastrophic or tragic events
occur. Whether we look for meaning and leadership or whether we retreat in fear
and sorrow, the book is an important reminder of the need to persist. I also
think there is an important message of love and connection, and how we need to
maintain these kinds of relationships in these challenging and often brutal
times. Reading and stories also play an important part in sustaining the narrator.
She seems to feel a sense of relief in sharing her story, and when she recounts
her past life before the convent, she shares how important other stories are to
her and those she loves. I also really loved this aspect of the story, and how
when we face tragedies, challenges, or catastrophes, we can find some solace in
reading and writing. I know that this book is not for everyone, and in looking
at reviews, I can see that the book is somewhat divisive. However, I appreciated
the book, and I thought it was a compelling read. With the brutality and
drudgery of the narrator’s life, it’s hard to say that the book was enjoyable,
but I did engage with the book and found her story enthralling. Reading this
book reminded me of the kind of brutal world that Ottessa Moshfegh created in Lapvona,
where elements of folk horror are mixed with a cruel society and leadership
that relies on brutality and fear.
No comments:
Post a Comment