THE NIGHT GUEST by Hildur Knútsdóttir

Translated by Mary Robinette Kowal

I’ve never cared for monsters or jump scares. Horror, for me, is all about atmosphere and a thorough grounding in the real world. I was far more scared of Annie Wilks than I was of Pennywise. The Night Guest sits in a strange limbo between the two. There are no monsters per se, but the hint of something other-worldly courses between its lines. A haunting.

Iðunn spends her days flitting between doctors’ offices, trying to work out what’s wrong with her. She can’t sleep. She loses time. She finds herself scratched and bruised in the morning, with no memory of having left her bed. When a friend suggests she get a pedometer, she finds she is walking 40,000 steps each night. Then the neighbourhood cats go missing. Followed by her abusive ex. And her current flame, who once dated her dead sister. She wakes up soaked in blood.

The Night Guest is slow-burn horror at its best. Knútsdóttir drops enough clues to have you guessing what’s going on but, in a display of impressive restraint, never gives you a clear answer. The result is something deeply unsettling more than stain-your-undies scary. That it’s entirely relatable makes it damn well terrifying.

The Night Guest by Hidur Knútsdóttir (Tr. Mary Robinette Kowal)
Tor Nightfire, 2024
194 pages