Mary’s Pick of the Week: The Night Guest by Hildur Knutsdottir

It might sound odd to close out 2024 with a deeply unsettling novel about a woman trying to solve the mystery of where she goes when she’s asleep, but I read this short novel in one sitting.  While Knutsdottir’s The Night Guest appears slight at first glance (some chapters are just a few words long), the complex theme of women’s health is painfully on display.  The author first came up with the idea for this when she experienced an unexplained illness that kept her in bed for two weeks, preventing her from writing or engaging with her young daughters and worried husband. Knutsdottir began thinking about the state of women’s health in her native Iceland and the world at large, resulting in a work that is by turns terrifying and all too familiar.

Iouun is a young woman in contemporary Reykjavík with a typical office job, who struggles to connect with coworkers and family alike.  She often feels as if she’s floating above herself; witnessing her own life at a remove and attempting to heal after the mysterious death of her sister.  Increasingly disturbed by restless sleep and waking to find herself covered in bruises and dirt, she heads to a clinic for treatment.  Iouun initially connects with a female doctor who seems genuinely invested in her patients’ wellbeing, but upon her next visit is assigned to a male doctor who fails to take her concerns seriously, implying that her worries are all in her head.  In one chilling scene, Iouun attempts to record herself sleepwalking to find the solution to the dried red stains on her hands, knees and sheets upon waking each morning.  Fast forwarding through her phone’s footage, she watches herself wake up, sit for a moment and then rise-leaving her room for over three hours.  Her recently acquired fitness watch shows that she’s logging thousands of steps in the night.

Knutsdottir builds horrifying suspense without tired tropes, just excellent storytelling that will send shivers down readers’ spines.  Scenes are cold and evocative-you can easily envision the harbor, smell the salt air, and slip on the tangles of seaweed underfoot. Translated from the Icelandic masterfully by Mary Robinette Kowal, the scene is set for a slow building shocking reveal at the end.  

Similar titles that readers might enjoy include The Coin, by Yasmin Zaher and The Grip of It, by Jac Jemc.

Like a classic creepy Dickens or Henry James for company on a winter’s night, Knutsdottir is guaranteed to match the chill of the weather outside.