This Thing Between Us

"No one understands, they keep talking about time. You need time, it'll take time. Like I'll get over her and everything will go back to normal. I don't want to get over anything. I want to sink as far as it'll take me."

Above all else, this book excelled at the portrayal of grief. It's that portrayal that really made me enjoy this. It felt so real and raw, and served as a backdrop for every decision the main character made.

This is the kind of story that is really enhanced by it's short length. This is not an exploration of grief. It's one man's personal experience with it.

As far as the paranormal aspect of the story goes, I liked how impending and incomprehensible it felt in the first 2/3rds of the book. I think I would have preferred the threat to remain paranormal rather than becoming a physical threat like we see with the dog and the veterinarian. I feel like mysterious nature of the horror was dispelled a bit when the main character was literally just chatting with the spirit through the vet, but I also acknowledge that the stakes needed to be raised somehow, and that it can only be so dangerous if the threat remains incorporeal.

I'm not sure what else to say about this. It was good. It was short. While it wasn't scary in the sense that I was afraid of it, or I experienced terror while reading it, it was certainly thought provoking, which is what really makes a book good in my opinion.

Grief is a common theme to explore in media, and I feel like it's even more present in the horror genre. At face value one might think, "do we really need another story about dealing with the loss of a loved one?" And at face value I might agree that the concept has been tackled just about every way already, but This Thing Between Us proved to me that there are still interesting ways to keep the topic fresh in a way I've never seen before.

The sales blurb for this book pitches it as a ~what if your Alexa was haunted~ kind of story, but there is so much more going on here. There is some truly sinister and malevolent shit happening to poor Thiago (who is one of the most interesting and likeable protagonists I've come across in a while) and there were at least two scenes that had me sitting upright and thinking "whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck." There was also a Mexican folk twist on the story's events involving brujas and mentions of El Cucuy that made it feel distinct from generic cosmic horror.

I liked all the characters, specifically the relationship between Thiago and his mother-in-law and how that changes after his wife's death (this occurs before the story even begins, so it's not really a spoiler). Everyone's decisions and dialogue felt natural and logical, subthemes of gentrification and immigration were treated fairly and didn't come across as heavy-handed, and I got legitimately spooked at parts. This book is a quintessential example of what I think horror literature looks like at its best. This is an easy auto-recommendation.