This horror novel weaves together themes of grief and the supernatural. At its core, it follows a man mourning the loss of his wife while unsettling, inexplicable things begin happening in their home. The story is divided into four parts: the first two explore his raw grief and the eerie disturbances surrounding him. I thought the author captured the weight of loss beautifully—the writing truly conveys what it feels like to live in the aftermath of losing someone you love. The unsettling moments in the house kept me intrigued; I wanted to understand their cause. Were they connected to his wife’s death? Was it something as simple as a faulty device, or something darker?
One aspect of the novel that truly stood out was its portrayal of grief. Thiago’s pain felt raw and authentic, and the story captured how overwhelming loss can be. His grief influenced every decision he made, making his emotions feel realistic and relatable. Even amid the supernatural and suspenseful elements, the emotional weight of losing a loved one remained at the heart of the story.
This novel also made me so skeptical of technology. The things that were happening with the Itza were absolutely terrifying—lights flickering, eerie music playing in empty rooms, and the device seemingly watching Thiago’s every move. It really makes you think about how much we rely on our gadgets, and what could happen if they were used against us… or if they somehow gained a mind of their own.
Unfortunately, the last two sections of the book lost me. The introduction of a demon and the protagonist’s frantic attempts to escape blurred the story’s direction and left me confused. Instead of tying the threads together, the ending raised more questions than answers.
Overall, I’d rate this one a 3 out of 5. The opening half was excellent, with vivid depictions of grief and compelling suspense, but the final act unraveled and left me feeling unsatisfied.
The perfect food pairing for this novel is a blood orange coffee cake. This Thing Between Us is a novel heavy with grief, love, and haunting loss—and blood orange coffee cake captures that same bittersweet feeling. The cake is warm, soft, and comforting, like something you’d bake to get through long, quiet mornings in a Colorado cabin. But the blood oranges cut through with their deep crimson color and tart bite, a reminder that even sweetness carries shadows. This isn’t just coffee cake—it’s comfort laced with something unsettling, the perfect bite to accompany a story that lingers long after the last page.
I would be far more scared of technology that has a mind of its own because technology is everywhere in our daily lives. We rely on it for communication, transportation, work, entertainment, and even our homes. If technology became self-aware or started acting on its own, there would be almost no way to escape it. That’s what made this book so unsettling—the idea that something we depend on and trust every day could suddenly turn against us. A supernatural threat is frightening, but at least you might be able to run from it. Technology follows us wherever we go, making it feel like there would be no safe place to hide.