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This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno

A Thoroughly Modern Ghost Story

What does it mean to be haunted nowadays? Virtually every culture in human history has a mythology concerning some incarnation of life after death. Stories about ghosts, spirits, demons and devils…they are as prevalent as any religion on earth. We have long been fascinated by the idea of otherworldly forces reaching out from beyond the veil, mysterious, often malevolent, and an ever present cultural touchstone that remains a staple in our modern media. But how do these myths and superstitions manifest in the age of the internet and smart phones and skepticism as the default setting for most normal people? Gus Moreno’s modern horror novel delves into that question in a book that is undeniably unsettling and uniquely captivating. Using the all too real set up, This Thing Between Us hits the ground running by plunging the reader into the midst of a survivors struggle to cope with his wife’s untimely and gruesome passing. Our protagonist and point of view character is Thiago, an underachieving, second generation immigrant who lives his life perpetually as an outsider. He is a non-Spanish speaking Mexican who’s never quite fit in anywhere and never been able to make things in his life quite come together. Through a series of semi-secondary point of view flashbacks, we come to understand that the only thing in his life that truly seems to grant him some sense of belonging is his relationship to his now deceased wife, Vera. Interlaced between the current events of Thiago dealing with the fall out of Vera’s death, the retroactive unfolding and dissection of the relationship between them is truly one of the highlights of the novel. It builds in the reader a strong sense of connection with the couple and helps deepen the dread one feels as Moreno allows the events leading to her death to be revealed.

If there is going to be a universally agreed upon truth concerning this book, it will be that it showcases Moreno’s knack for building tension. By opening with the immediate revelation that Vera is dead, but then slowly dolling out the details for an extended period of time, Moreno draws the reader into every detail of the haunting the couple experiences. His writing is visceral and often deeply unsettling, hitting all the right notes to summon goosebumps and chills. The supernatural experiences that the couple suffer through are subtle, occurring in ways that are easily dismissed or explained away by as technology troubles. There is a running theme through the novel of the modern versus the traditional, the enlightenment of today’s culture against the wisdom of the old ways. Thiago and Vera are a thoroughly modern couple, repeatedly eschewing the advice of their elders and embracing the trappings of modern society. This theme is reinforced again and again throughout the book, with the clear indication that the couple’s desire to cling to modernity heavily contributes to their eventual downfall. Knowing what’s coming, the reader is practically begging them to take the occurrences more seriously, to keep their guard up against the inevitable fate. As these occurrences continue to build in severity the couple eventually comes to terms with what is happening to them, but it is too little too late, leaving Thiago full of regret and desperate to escape the reality of his present.

It is at this point that the novel takes a turn. It can be more or less split into two distinct sections; the first consists of Thiago recounting the events that lead to Vera’s death and dealing with the immediate ramifications while the second is concerned with his attempt to live in a world without her and come to terms with the entity that has been haunting them. The world around our protagonist conspires to use the tragedy for it’s own ends, attempting to politicize her death and co-opting her memory while ignoring the person she actually was. Moreno expertly continues to keep the tension wound tight throughout most of the back half of the novel, elevating the sense of dread as the presence that haunts Thiago becomes more tangible and malevolent. It delves further into our protagonists head, letting the reader experience his torment firsthand. No matter how far her tries to escape, his guilt and remorse deepen, threatening to overcome him and providing fuel for the entity that is haunting him. Moreno communicates his protagonists grief and the struggles in a way that is so captivating and personal, it highlights that his greatest strength as an author is a unique gift for conveying human emotion. Without doubt, it is the single most remarkable part of the novel.

Unfortunately, as the story progresses and Thiago’s grip on the real world becomes more tenuous, so does the novel begin to lose some of its focus. The entity that has haunted him throughout the pages causes prolonged visions and we, as the reader, are treated to a series of jaunts into the ethereal. These are interesting and raise questions concerning our relationships to these tales of haunting and possessions, but the plot becomes somewhat muddled as it delves into the realms of encroaching madness. While Moreno does provide a definitive ending to the story, there are aspects that leave the reader wanting. As a new author, one might say he overreached with his attempt at the more esoteric aspects of the genre, especially in consideration of the incredibly strong set up which was so well grounded in both the physical and the emotional. While the last bit by no means ruins the book, it definitely is a weaker finish to what had been a very strong story. In the end, what Moreno has accomplished is no mean feat. He had developed a thoroughly modern ghost story, one which blends the elements of the past with our modern sensibilities and lifestyles nearly seamlessly. He has masterfully presented a truly dark examination of grief, regret, survivor’s guilt, and the failings of modern society, one which undoubtedly haunt the minds of his readers every time they reach to turn on their smart devices or wake in the middle of the night.

Recommended for genre fans and those interested – 7/10

Death, Dismemberment and Dark Humor

Why You Should Read: Joe Abercrombie

Ultimately, reading fantasy is embarking on a journey through the author’s imagination. They pull you into their own unique world and let you experience their personality through the lens of their creations. While some use their medium to create worlds of wonder, Abercrombie’s crafts a world that is brutal, gritty and unforgiving. The British writer’s First Law universe, currently spanning two trilogies, three standalones and two short story collections, is a place where darkness and depravity are commonplace, with violence and corruption lurking around every corner waiting to destroy those too foolish or unlucky enough to stumble into them. But what Abercrombie does so well and what sets him apart from his grimdark contemporaries is striking the perfect balance between the wickedness of his world and his own razor sharp wit. You laugh, cry in frustration and yell in horror, and often all in one scene, thanks to the perfectly hewn skill of this writer.

An author’s voice is always going to be his greatest weapon. The unique delivery of an author’s expression is the thing that sets his work apart; the creative flourishes, the thematic turns and twists, the character details that give life to the story. Some authors like a subtle touch, gentle embellishments to craft something which is intricate and entrancing. By contrast, Abercrombie beats his readers with a warhammer while delivering a battlecry. His authorial voice is so strong it easily makes him distinct amongst an overabundance of grimdark authors crowding the fantasy shelves. By allowing his humor to shine through he adds streaks of color to his otherwise bleak world, making his stories feel like  something entirely unique. Every page bleeds with personality and draws you further and further into the story like the most charismatic of performers.

Abercrombie’s stories encompass the grand conflicts of wizards and kings spanning empires and nations, but are always driven by deeply personal tales of revenge, jealousy and pride. There is the unflinching sense of classic tragedy that hangs over every one of his works, as characters struggle to overcome their flaws and survive in an indifferent world. In this regard, there is no one better. He has mastered the art of turning his characters into real people, or as close as you’re likely to find. He takes some of the most despicable figures ever put to page and lets you get to know them so intimately you can’t help but root for them, despite knowing all their failings and ugly flaws. You become invested in their struggles and hope like hell they can somehow figure out a way to make it through the meat grinder that is their dark little universe. It’s a trick that Abercrombie pulls off time after time in his novels, and it pays off in spades.

Abercrombie is not for everyone. He is brutal in his treatment of characters and readers alike. He is not one for sentimentality or a strong sense of satisfaction. Characters fail, are maimed, die unfulfilled, while storylines diverge from the expected and twist into horrifying turns on the classic tropes. Reading First Law is like chewing bittersweet candy, it’s all sour medicine and you need a strong stomach. He also defies the tendency of many modern writers to delve into the mechanics of his magic systems and offer explanations of the intricacies of his world. His world exists solely to serve as a vehicle to present his characters and conflicts to the reader, as streamlined and functional as he can make it. But for fans, these are features, not flaws. Abercrombie crafts his story with the expert precision of a butcher carving up a carcass to deliver a serving of perfectly cut steaks. But if that’s what you’re looking for, there’s really no one better.

Say one thing for Joe Abercrombie, say he’s hell of a writer.

An Ode to The King of Horror

Why You Should Read: Stephen King

Growing up as the quintessential rebellious kid who railed against anything and everything, from school, to my parents, to the government, of course found nothing but fault in the recommended reading material I was assigned by institutions of higher learning. Every book I was given by my teachers was tainted with the unmistakable scent of self-satisfied institutionalized smugness. These classics, these important pieces of literature, were nothing more than overblown relics of bygone eras, just like my teachers. I wanted to read things that were gritty, cool, unconcerned with appeasing the literary establishment. I found them. Hunter S. Thompson and Jack Keurauc, Palahniuk and Buckowski and others I thought my teachers would not approve of. I devoured these books, carried them around proudly, and, when asked about them, I would discuss the most heinous and controversial parts. I was insufferable, basically. 

But through all of this, one author in particular survived the jump from the literary counterculture of my youth to more mainstream maturity of my 20’s as I eventually settled into something resembling a human being. That was the one and only, Stephen King. I first discovered the King of Horror in middle school, far too early for his subject material. But, at the time, reading his books felt like a taboo, like I was getting away with something. So of course I was hooked. I read classics like It, Tommyknockers and Carrie as a preteen, sneaking them out of my dad’s collection and the library like I was smuggling the most illicit of banned materials. As I got older, I took on some of his more ambitious projects like The Dark Tower and The Stand. I found that no matter how old I got or what stage of life I was in, I never ran out of options to return to the well for a taste of that unique blend of storytelling that only King can produce.

People will recommend King for a whole host of reasons. He is, afterall, a massively popular, bestselling author who needs no introduction from the likes of me. His advocates will bring up his groundbreaking ideas, his masterful use of suspense and his genre defining contributions to horror, praise his immersive worlds and the ambitious scope of his interconnected universe. But over the years, what I’ve come to really love about King is his perpetual place as a cultural touchstone. The massive and pervasive body of work he continues to create has developed a sort of timelessness that few other authors have ever enjoyed during their lifetimes. Hell, the man has lived to see adaptation after adaptation of the majority of his books, to the point that classics like It and Pet Semetary have already been remade during his own lifetime. He has reached a level of cultural omnipresence only approached by the likes of comic book heroes and the Simpsons. 

After I moved on from the wayward literary ways of my youth, I found King crossed all sorts of social boundaries like few authors could. People from every walk of life adore his monstrous creations, they are the darlings of literary connoisseurs, artists and blue collar workers alike. Whether they read the books or watch the movies, almost everyone has found themselves drawn to something that has spawned from the depths of King’s imagination. I’ve made connections that would never have been possible without being a King fan, discussed books with people who hate reading, connected with people half my age and double it, found ways to bridge cultural divides that seemed like gaping chasms, just by being a fan. Turns out that Jack Torrance and Pennywise terrify millennials and baby boomers alike. No matter where you come from, we all cry for John Coffey and we all cheer for Andy Dufresne. I’m not here to tell you everyone will fall in love with King’s writing style. He’s not for everyone and he definitely has his detractors. There will always be those who shun King for their preconceived perceptions, seeing him as only an author of mass-market shlock and airport bookstore bestsellers. His books are weird and shocking, often challenging and frequently off putting. His style is meandering at times and he has a penchant for frustrating endings. But if you’ve never tried before, you might want to try giving the old wordslinger a shot. Read the books, watch the movies, binge the 6 hour 1994 miniseries of The Stand with national treasure Gary Sinise, whatever suits your taste. Maybe you’ll find a lifelong source of entertainment. Maybe you’ll become a fan like me. Maybe you won’t. But as an icon of American Literature, King refuses to be ignored.

© 2025 Mike Cahoon

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