In Ottessa Moshfegh’s unsettling novel “Death in Her Hands,” we witness a descent into madness that begins with what seems like an innocuous discovery. Our elderly protagonist, Vesta Gul, finds a mysterious note during her morning walk with her dog Charlie: “Her name was Magda. Nobody will ever know who killed her. It wasn’t me. Here is her dead body.” Yet there is no body to be found. This simple premise launches us into the increasingly fractured psyche of a woman whose grip on reality dissolves before our eyes.
Unlike Moshfegh’s previous works—the drug-fueled hibernation journey of “My Year of Rest and Relaxation” or the grim desperation of “Eileen”—this novel focuses on the slow deterioration of a mind left too long in isolation. The author continues her exploration of deeply flawed, unreliable narrators, but takes us further into the realm of psychological horror, creating a story that is equal parts unsettling, frustrating, and tragically human.
A Narrator Lost in Her Own Story
Vesta Gul, a 72-year-old widow who has recently moved to a remote cabin after her husband’s death, becomes our guide through this increasingly disturbing tale. From the start, we sense something off-kilter in her perspective. Her relationship with her deceased husband Walter appears complicated and possibly abusive, marked by condescension and control. With only her dog Charlie for companionship, Vesta’s isolation serves as fertile ground for obsession.
Moshfegh brilliantly crafts Vesta’s narrative voice—rambling, associative, peppered with digressions and half-memories. The prose mirrors the workings of a mind that has begun to detach from reality:
“Was futility a subject worthy of exploration? The note certainly didn’t promise any happy ending.”
As Vesta becomes fixated on solving the mystery of Magda’s supposed murder, she builds an elaborate fantasy that feels increasingly real to her. She creates detailed character profiles, imagined backstories, and suspected motives—all without a shred of evidence beyond the note itself. Her “investigation” becomes a window into her fractured psyche rather than any actual mystery.
The Horror of the Ordinary
What makes “Death in Her Hands” particularly unsettling is how Moshfegh grounds her horror in the mundane. The terror emerges not from supernatural phenomena but from the disintegration of an ordinary mind. Vesta’s daily routines—walking her dog, making coffee, planning her garden—become infused with paranoia and twisted logic.
The novel succeeds most when it blurs the line between reality and delusion. Is there actually a mystery to be solved, or is everything happening in Vesta’s mind? The ambiguity creates a constant unease, forcing readers to question every detail and perspective.
Particularly effective is Moshfegh’s portrayal of Vesta’s relationship with Charlie, which deteriorates alongside her mental state. The dog begins as her sole companion and comfort but transforms in her perception into something threatening and alien by the novel’s disturbing conclusion.
Strengths and Shortcomings
What Works
- Psychological depth: Moshfegh excels at creating a vivid portrait of an unreliable narrator whose perspective grows increasingly distorted.
- Atmospheric tension: The isolated setting—a remote cabin by a lake, surrounded by ominous woods—perfectly enhances the growing sense of dread.
- Thematic richness: The novel thoughtfully explores aging, loneliness, marital power dynamics, and the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of our lives.
- Memorable prose: Moshfegh’s writing remains sharp, with passages that are darkly funny even as they unsettle:
“I tried not to think too much of Magda. I didn’t feel strong enough to bring her to justice all by myself. Ghod had sucked the courage out of me. I wasn’t even frightened, I was struck dumb.”
Where It Falters
- Pacing issues: The middle section of the novel can feel repetitive and meandering as Vesta spirals deeper into her obsession.
- Limited payoff: Readers hoping for a traditional mystery resolution will be disappointed; the emphasis remains firmly on psychological deterioration rather than plot resolution.
- Challenging empathy: Vesta’s character, while well-drawn, can be difficult to connect with emotionally, creating a somewhat cold reading experience.
- Uneven tone: The blend of horror, dark comedy, and psychological drama occasionally feels imbalanced, with certain scenes striking a discordant note.
A Legacy of Unreliable Narrators
“Death in Her Hands” continues Moshfegh’s fascination with characters whose perspectives cannot be trusted. Like the protagonist in “My Year of Rest and Relaxation” who attempts to drug herself into oblivion or Eileen Dunlop’s warped self-image in “Eileen,” Vesta filters reality through a deeply distorted lens.
The novel sits comfortably alongside other literary works that explore unreliable narration and psychological disintegration, such as Shirley Jackson’s “We Have Always Lived in the Castle,” Iain Reid’s “I’m Thinking of Ending Things,” or even Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper.” Like these works, Moshfegh’s novel uses an unstable narrator to create a profound sense of unease that lingers long after the final page.
The Mechanics of Delusion
What distinguishes “Death in Her Hands” is its meticulous portrayal of how delusions form and solidify. Moshfegh shows us, step by painstaking step, how Vesta constructs an entire fictional world around the cryptic note:
- She creates Magda as a specific character with defined traits and history
- She populates her world with suspects (including “Ghod,” a malevolent force)
- She interprets random encounters as significant clues
- She eventually loses the ability to distinguish between her fabrications and reality
This process feels disturbingly authentic, offering insight into how easily isolated minds can construct alternative realities when deprived of external validation.
Themes That Haunt
Beyond its exploration of mental deterioration, “Death in Her Hands” examines several profound themes:
Aging and Invisibility
Vesta’s advanced age contributes to her sense of disconnection. Her interactions with others—from police officers to store clerks—reveal how elderly women often become invisible in society. This invisibility both isolates her further and allows her delusions to flourish unchecked.
Marriage as Confinement
Through Vesta’s recollections of Walter, Moshfegh delivers a scathing portrayal of patriarchal marriage. Walter’s academic condescension and emotional neglect haunt Vesta even after his death, suggesting that decades of psychological control have primed her for mental instability.
The Human Need for Narrative
Perhaps most poignantly, the novel explores our fundamental need to create stories that give meaning to our experiences. Vesta’s elaborate fantasy about Magda represents a desperate attempt to impose order on a disordered existence—to find purpose when confronted with the emptiness of her life.
Final Assessment
“Death in Her Hands” is not Moshfegh’s most accessible work, nor her most satisfying in conventional terms. It lacks the dark humor that made “My Year of Rest and Relaxation” so compelling and the tightly wound plot of “Eileen.” Instead, it offers something more experimental and ultimately more disturbing—a portrait of a mind coming undone in real-time.
For readers willing to surrender to its peculiar rhythms and embrace its ambiguities, the novel delivers a uniquely unsettling experience. It’s a book that demands patience and a tolerance for discomfort, offering few easy answers but plenty of psychological depth.
While “Death in Her Hands” showcases Moshfegh’s considerable talents for psychological insight and atmospheric writing, its deliberate obscurity and challenging protagonist make it a recommendation with reservations. It will appeal most to readers who appreciate literary horror and explorations of unreliable narration, but those seeking a traditional mystery or clear resolution may find themselves frustrated.
At its core, this is a novel about the stories we tell ourselves—both to illuminate the truth and to shield ourselves from it. In Vesta’s declining mind, we glimpse something universal: the desperate human need to make sense of a world that often defies understanding. That insight alone makes the journey, however uncomfortable, worthwhile.