A Book A Week

We’re deep into October now, and while the Texas heat refuses to loosen its grip, I’m not letting that stop me from sinking into some spooky reads. I first discovered Ania Ahlborn’s work last year with her deeply disturbing yet surprisingly moving novel, Brother. I was struck by the way she blended gruesome horror with emotionally complex characters, and I vowed to read more from her. Ahlborn's newest release, The Unseen, trades the slasher-style terror of Brother for something more insidious. It's a domestic horror story that festers in paranoia and the quiet unraveling of ordinary life.

Isla Hansen is trapped in the kind of grief only a mother who has lost a child can know. Her husband, Luke, and their five remaining children can do little to console her. Everything shifts when an orphaned boy appears on the outskirts of their secluded Colorado property. The child is strange. There’s no other word for it. His features are angular, almost otherworldly, and he’s completely mute, apparently traumatized by whatever horrors he faced before being found. At least, that’s what the social worker says.

Luke can’t shake the sense of unease the boy brings with him, but for grieving Isla, his arrival feels like an answer to her prayers. With no family of his own, she’s convinced they can offer him a home and make him the sixth child in their lives, completing their family once and for all.

But as the boy settles in, strange things begin to happen. Luke and the children notice unsettling details—small at first, then impossible to ignore—signs that something is deeply wrong inside their home. And the more the Hansens try to understand who the boy really is, the closer they edge toward a truth far darker than they ever imagined.

With The Unseen, Ania Ahlborn writes the kind of horror that seeps under your skin, unsettling you from somewhere deep within. It’s a deceptively simple setup. The story feels familiar. We’ve all read or watched versions of the “creepy child enters an unsuspecting family’s life” trope. But in Ahlborn’s hands, it becomes something more.

The Unseen isn’t just a horror story. It’s a meditation on grief, family, and the loss of innocence. It’s a slow burn, one that compels you forward through rich character work and a suffocating sense of paranoia that lurks beneath every page. By the time you grasp the full extent of the horror, it’s already too late. I didn’t love the way things wrapped up, but I absolutely loved the lead-up. Ahlborn proves once again that she can twist familiar fears into something deeply personal and profoundly disturbing. Go ahead and add The Unseen to your spooky season reading list. You’ll be glad (and maybe a little terrified) that you did.

For more information, visit the author's website, Amazon, and Goodreads. 

(2025, 82)