Hildur Knútsdóttir is just beginning to introduce herself to English-language audiences, but she’s already made quite an impression. Her horror novella The Night Guest was one of the most exciting releases in the genre in 2024, and now she’s back with another tightly wound, gripping thriller set in contemporary Reykjavik. I devoured Dead Weight in one sitting, and there’s a very good chance you will too.
Unnur’s life revolves largely around two things: Work, where she’s hopefully due for a big promotion, and attachment to an emotionally unavailable man. Her life is small but, she insists, satisfying, free of complications but also prickling with moments of loneliness. When a black cat shows up at her door, she sees a problem to be quickly solved, and soon tracks down its owner: Asta, another local woman with her own issues. When the cat, named Io, turns out to be pregnant, Unnur and Asta are drawn into an unconventional petsitting arrangement to maximize the animal’s comfort, and what started as a small act of neighborly kindness soon becomes an unlikely friendship.
But Unnur’s not the only one dealing with a man she has to make excuses for, and soon her bond with Asta is given the ultimate test, a bloody trial that’ll either bond them forever or ruin their lives.
From the outside looking in, Dead Weight seems to fit most comfortably into the realm of revenge horror, the story of two women who decide they’ve finally had enough and act, however reluctantly, on that emotion. But Knútsdóttir doesn’t take the most direct route to getting us there, even if she’s always consciously playing with the expectations of the subgenre and the noir-tinged elements of her saga. Her prose is at once contemporary and hard-boiled, and the very nature of her approach casts Unnur, who narrates the whole novella, as a kind of detective out to solve not just Asta’s issues, but the puzzle of her own existence.
This is where things get tricky, because even by the standards of a novella, it takes Knútsdóttir a little while to get to the horror goods here. There’s a lot of wind-up in Dead Weight, so much that sometimes it feels like the tension starts to slack just slightly. I suspect a re-read would solve this particular issue for me, but at first glance, it feels, momentarily, like the story might be treading water.
When what Knútsdóttir’s really after kicks in, though, those concerns are quickly forgotten, and the beauty of Dead Weight is in its ability to deliver an emotional dagger at unexpected, often staggering moments, sometimes without an ounce of violence. Unnur sets out to solve Asta’s problems, but of course, her own issues – her relationship, her focus on work, her insistence that she’s figured everything out in contrast to her new friend’s messy life – are an even more compelling case to be solved.
The best narrative trick Knútsdóttir pulls in the book is setting the stage for a revenge story and spending most of the word count delivering a gripping psychological drama punctuated by the folklore-laden specter of a black cat crossing Unnur’s path. We get to see Unnur not only deal with her issues, but also come to realize they are issues before our eyes, all within the span of 100 pages.
This, combined with Asta’s lingering troubles, creates a thread of tension that tightens throughout the first two acts of this narrative, and it’s so effective that you almost forget the brutality promised by the book’s premise and its opening pages. When that brutality finally circles back around, it smacks you in the face with remarkable, icy intensity, delivering one of the year’s best horror finales.
Dead Weight is available May 26 wherever books are sold.
