El toque Moshfegh se consagra con su tercera y arrasadora novela.

Una mezcla unica de novela negra y humor macabro, tan inimitable como la propia autora.

Otessa Moshfegh es ya la next great thing de la literatura norteamericana. ?Contrapartes en espanol? Sara Mesa, Mariana Enriquez o Elvira Navarro. Todas descendientes de hembras extranas como Silvina Ocampo, Joy Williams y Sylvia Plath. -Rodrigo Fresan, Vanity Fair

Una escritora que, como Henry James o Vladimir Nabokov, esta bendecida tanto con la genialidad como con la crueldad. -The New Yorker

Mientras pasea a su perro por el bosque, Vesta Gul se topa con una nota manuscrita. Se llamaba Magda. Nadie sabra nunca quien la mato. No fui yo. Este es su cadaver. Pero junto a la nota no hay ningun cadaver. Vesta Gul, que acaba de mudarse tras la muerte de su marido y no conoce a nadie en su nuevo hogar, no sabe muy bien que hacer con esta informacion. Comienza a obsesionarse con la figura de Magda y a elucubrar con las diversas maneras en que pudieron asesinarla, si es que efectivamente ocurrio tal cosa. Su aislamiento la conduce a una serie de ideas que comienzan a encontrar un reflejo en la vida real. De un modo emocionante y terrorifico, las piezas parecen encajar: a encajar entre si y con las zonas mas oscuras de su propio pasado. Solo hay dos opciones para resolver este misterio: una explicacion banal e inocente o una causa profundamente siniestra.

ENGLISH DESCRIPTION

[An] intricate and unsettling new novel … Death in Her Hands is not a murder mystery, nor is it really a story about self-deception or the perils of escapism. Rather, it’s a haunting meditation on the nature and meaning of art.
-Kevin Power, The New Yorker

From one of our most ceaselessly provocative literary talents, a novel of haunting metaphysical suspense about an elderly widow whose life is upturned when she finds an ominous note on a walk in the woods.

While on her daily walk with her dog in a secluded woods, a woman comes across a note, handwritten and carefully pinned to the ground by stones. Her name was Magda. Nobody will ever know who killed her. It wasn’t me. Here is her dead body. But there is no dead body. Our narrator is deeply shaken; she has no idea what to make of this. She is new to this area, alone after the death of her husband, and she knows no one.

Becoming obsessed with solving this mystery, our narrator imagines who Magda was and how she met her fate. With very little to go on, she invents a list of murder suspects and possible motives for the crime. Oddly, her suppositions begin to find correspondences in the real world, and with mounting excitement and dread, the fog of mystery starts to fade into menacing certainty. As her investigation widens, strange dissonances accrue, perhaps associated with the darkness in her own past; we must face the prospect that there is either an innocent explanation for all this or a much more sinister one.

A triumphant blend of horror, suspense, and pitch-black comedy, Death in Her Hands asks us to consider how the stories we tell ourselves both reflect the truth and keep us blind to it. Once again, we are in the hands of a narrator whose unreliability is well earned, and the stakes have never been higher.