The Blade Between audiobook

This was a book that was way out of my comfort zone and I’m thankful for the experience in helping me grow as a reader. Initially, this was a mash up of The Bright Lands and When No One Is Watching, but once the second half of the book commenced it broke out more on its own (thankfully). This is definitely a book for the Trump era. (With a country so divided and the pervasiveness of the us vs them mentality.) One thing I would never anticipate thinking about that came to my mind a few times was the Mueller Report. I remember when listening to it, the tactics the Russian troll farms would use to try and spread confusion, hate and disinformation inside our country. Those very same tactics were used in the fictional town of Hudson, which could be any town in America that fell behind during the rise of globalization. It was quite terrifying, but very believable to read and something I wouldn’t have been able to picture if this was published pre-Trump. If I’m being totally honest, this whole book would have been a pile of crazy pre-Trump. Alas, here we are. I think this book provides much in social commentary that would elevate any conversation surrounding poverty, the opioid crisis, gentrification and much of what our country wrestles with culturally. A slight criticism I have relates to the sheer number of character perspectives. I don’t disagree with the author trying to portray literally almost the entire town to demonstrate the madness and evil that overtook everything, but it got a little confusing. I kept struggling to remember who everyone was and at first blamed it on reading it before bed every night, but then came to see that new perspectives were introduced at almost rapid pace as the conclusion drew nearer. Once I could see what the author was doing I just told myself to roll with it, but another reader might not be as forgiving. This also broke up the flow and made things jarring at times, but I respect the author’s decision for writing it this way. Overall, Mr. Miller is a brilliant writer and this is not a book I will forget anytime soon. I hope that in five or ten years time, readers of this book will look back on these issues as being things of the past. Thank you to Ecco Books and Sam J Miller for the opportunity to read and provide an honest review. Review Date: 11/20/2020Publication Date: 12/01/2020

"We don't get to choose our cages." "For better or for worse, this is home".I wish I had clicked with Blackfish City more, but I'm glad I did with The Blade Between. It's a risky novel, full of symbolism, which packs a great overload of intentions, as if Sam Miller were writing a short story in novel form. Disjointed identities and broken people trying to deal with a collective trauma called Hudson, a city built upon the blood that flows from the ribcages of whales. The city's description (which I had to look up, because in Europe we have a different concept of that word) is incredible, paragraph after paragraph you get every sense of its history and Sam Miller manages to take you by the hand and show you Warren Street without the need of Google Street View.And like any city, the real life comes from its inhabitants. The cast of characters is diverse, touching many of the differences that makes cities so complex. Differences of class, sexual orientation, marital status, race, religion, old jobs vs. new jobs... Sam Miller manages not only to flesh out three incredibly deep characters that you care for, but also he paints the amazing chorus that any tragedy needs: billionaires, gay BIPOC aspiring artist with his conservative pastor mother, struggling 3rd generation Irish with some drug problems... Even the I'm-here-because-of-gentrification-hipster extra is incredibly fleshed out in 3 sentences. Not to mention the real greek chorus, a collective made of ghost whales that are central to the narration of the story... just wow. such risk. And well executed.All these ingredients serve Sam to talk about gentrification and eviction free zones, being raised in a depressed zone in which everyone is a bully and a victim, racism, homophobia, hyperconnected societies, the allure of social media and its instant gratification, our addictions to drugs, to sex, to self-loath. And emotions. Emotions are LIVELY. The anger, the hate, the impotence, the desire to be better. Everything on top of an enthralling mystery that hops from noir to horror with fantastic elements. And lots of whales metaphors.It's okay to love something that you hate.Just like it's okay to hate something that you love.And we all have to learn to love the cages we're in, because we carry them with us wherever we go.Extra whale of love:🐳 Ms. Jackson as a framing device for feelings and to provide soundtrack to some passages. 📻📻📻Thanks Netgalley for the eARC. #NetGalley #TheBladeBetween

As a person who also moved far away from my small town, and then moved back as an adult to care for my aging father, I related a lot to this book. Well, maybe just in that way, and not so much the other things this protagonist did....but they sure were fun to read about.The main character, Ronan, a NYC photographer, has returned to his small town upstate while drying out from a recent crystal meth addiction. He passes the time by catfishing, searching for blackmail material, and obsessing over his first love, who is now inconveniently married to a woman. I really enjoyed the tone of this book and the somewhat nasty, but funny and likable, protagonist. The book is dark and the narrator is complicated...which is just how I like it. It's really well-written, extremely, original, super fast-paced and intriguing. A lot of books claim to be "unputdownable" - this one actually is. Thanks to NetGalley and Harper Collins for helping me discover Sam J. Miller. I will definitely be checking out his other books.

Don't think I've ever read a book quite like this.Miller does a stellar job of weaving together the supernatural and the all too real in this novel and creating an enthralling thriller that is simultaneously an allegory, a narrative on so many sociopolitical topics from gay rights and homophobia to gentrification and drug use (something I must say I was not prepared for). The storyline was at times a bit difficult to follow but this was a quick read and I did feel I understood the plot despite this. Miller's commentary on one's hometown- hating it, loving to hate it, and thus, loving it- really gave me a lot to think about, and the discussions of gentrification and its impact on the community is something I'm quite familiar with, growing up in a rapidly gentrifying neighbourhood. Overall, there isn't too much to say, as this was rather a short novel, compared to other ones I've read recently; it's a fantastic story with great social undertones, and something I'd recommend to city dwellers and small town folk- as well as anyone who enjoys fantasy type psychological horror and a look at the dark side of the world. Is this novel perfect? No- I think it lives just a bit too much in Miller's mind and I think details could have been expanded upon more. But it's for sure a great book.

Podcast interview recording soon. I will post it here.I was looking forward to this book since it was being written. One of the cool things about interviewing authors for the various podcasts I do is getting to know them a little better. A few years back I interviewed Sam J. Miller in one of the early interviews I did for our Philip K Dick podcast when I selected Miller’s amazing Cli-fi novel Blackfish City as a Dick-like suggestion on our show. In that interview, he hinted that he was deep into work on a novel about his hometown and whale ghosts. He didn’t know but I was working on a novel about the ghosts of my small town at the same time. This is a sub-genre of novel that I adore, and since I was in the same headspace it really had my attention. The most famous example of this sub-genre is Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury. In many ways, The Blade Between evokes the same small-town ghosts and horror as Something Wicked but with the modern diversity and progress inherit of an author who is a gay man and a social justice activist. Yeah, the Blade Between hits some sweet spots for me. I talked with a friend of mine recently who read the same book. He said that he understood that it was a well-written book but the story didn’t do much for him. As I finished and loved the book, I thought a little bit about why we had such a different experience. I realized that he was from a big city, but more importantly, he was still in his home town that he had only briefly left. Much of the strength of this novel takes place in the weird mental space where a person returns to their home town after a few years to find an alien place. It is a unique feeling, you know how to navigate the streets, but the buildings have changed. Beloved shops and restaurants have changed hands. Townies who never left look aged and different. All the ghosts of your childhood both positive and negative resurface in your mind, something you would never think about in the new city you call home. I am not sure this book will work as well for life long townies.The Blade Between is a great novel about that common haunting but what was so charming for me was Sam Miller’s unique experience with his hometown translated through his imagination. Fictional versions of people that could have lived in Hudson New York and tortured spirits inspired by the blood of whales from the real-life industry that the upstate river town was built around in real-life. I love how Miller uses the history and setting of Hudson to evoke that home-town haunting feeling I KNOW from returning to Bloomington Indiana, my hometown with different but relatable issues.Our main point of view character is Ronan a successful photographer, who has been living in the city that might be connected by train but might as well be a million miles apart from the town that raised him. He is going through drama in the city and after taking the train out he finds a different Hudson. While he grew up struggled with homophobia, Hudson is becoming almost a gay getaway. Even the candidate running for Mayor is openly gay. The problem with the rich man running for office is that he is buying up the town trying to remake it. The parallels at the heart of this novel are really well set up. The hipster city folks taking over and wanting to destroy the town as it was are like living monsters. At the same time the ghosts of the town’s tragic history are woven into the story, and after decades of haunting the town now wants to protect it. Well sorta. At the end of the first act, there is clarity to the purpose of this novel. “The City was built on their blood, Katch said “It’s in the foundations of the buildings. The sap of the trees. The oxygen that mosses excrete.”The battle lines are drawn. Ronan joins the activist resistance, whole at the same time dealing with hauntings of coming home. The boy he always crushed on who likes to experiment with him is now a cop and is married to one of his oldest friends. He also is dealing with his dying father whose wishes he is not sure how to value or make happen. The freedom the town offers him as an adult he never felt growing up. The tension between comfort and misery is on almost every page.Part of the activist storyline provides some of the novel’s most effective moments of horror that are what I consider minor spoilers. The novel is at its best when it is personal and heartfelt. The horrors of the hipster invasion of the hometown balanced with the ghosts both positive and negative are the beating heart of this story.“They made this town theirs. And their magic is powerful. Their wards have held for almost two centuries.” Those are the macro themes but Miller also nails some micro themes as well. This aspect comes from the various aspects of Sam Miller that make this novel a one of a kind thing that could only be the product of this one singular writer. It is concerned with issues like eviction and housing issues, corporate invasions, historical racism, LGBT+ discrimination, class warfare, and most interesting to this long time married old dude how modern technology and social media is used and sometimes weaponize in the Queer community. Also, the idea of Grindr online fantasies becoming solid and real threats provides one of the best horror suspense beats of 2020. “I found my old phone. Opened it up, logged into my own Grindr account. And then I clicked on Browse Nearby.Sure enough, the nearest man to me was Tom Minniq >25 less than Twenty-feet away.”I don’t say that lightly as 2020 is a year of fantastic horror novels. I also admit as a straight old married dude I wouldn’t have understood how great this moment was if without a co-worker who had explained to me how youngins date these days. Ha-ha. Glad he did because this moment was incredible. I am sorry I didn’t get to read The Blade Between in 2020 but it stands up there with all the great horror novels of this last year, Your Mexican Gothic, or The Only Indian. Diverse and powerful horror had a great year and this book is on the list for sure.

A dark and beautiful journey.

While waiting for my ARC of Sam J Miller's newest novel- The Blade Between- to arrive, I noticed that my library had procured the audio version and I decided to grab that to get started while I was waiting. I ended up finishing it quickly. The audio version has great narration and voice acting that fit the tone of the book. This book, like some of Miller's other work, straddles genres. In some ways, I found myself thinking that you could take the fantastical or paranormal elements away from it, and still have a great story about a ton of complex characters interacting in another gay boy returns to working class homophobic home town type of story. As a result, this sometimes left the paranormal elements feeling unfinished. They occasionally felt like refrigerator magnets that were part of the big picture, but not the heart of the story until we reach the end.Nonetheless, this book explores quite well the various ways in which real life people with real life struggles find themselves in conflict and cooperation with one another. How does one fight with the white working class against encroaching gentrification and destruction of their jobs when said working class has more violently homophobic and racist members than the gentrified areas have? How do you find solidarity in groups who hate their own members like that? How do we understand concepts of sexuality? Is it only how we identify, who we love, the actions we take, what we like, or all of the above and more? Can one be proud of where they come from when it also includes immense amounts of pain? What can we do to work together and make things easier for youth that come after us? I think the paranormal parts added an interesting twist to these things, even if I wish they were more fleshed out.To avoid spoiling this story, I will end this review here. I really have enjoyed everything I've read by this author and look forward to his next release.This was also posted to my blog.

REREAD NOVEMBER 2020: Every bit as wonderful and wild as the first time........*The Blade Between*, Sam J. Miller’s fourth novel, should be the one that opens him up to a wider audience. This time Miller blends genres, using tropes from horror, social issue novels, and crime fiction, to create a roller coaster of a book; I never knew quite where he was going to take me.The book begins as if a Stephen King project. *The Blade Between* moves with all the energy and horror of a King novel, but it goes further. In fact, this novel is where Stephen King meets James Baldwin, an intersection I didn’t quite think was possible. It’s a daring balancing act that is executed here with guts and flair.While the main purpose of horror is to explore human fear, Miller’s project is to explore human possibility. He uses the tropes of horror novels (and a few of King’s signature moves) to amplify the things that get in the way of our activism—mainly hate. It is HATE that twists like a “blade between” our ribs, and HATE does not discriminate between the good guys and the bad. It feeds on us all if we let it.At the heart of the novel is the controversial gay photographer Ronan Szepessy, who reluctantly returns home to his small town of Hudson, NY to see his ailing father and to respond to a mysterious message from a muse who may or may not be dead. But something is up with Hudson when he arrives to this place of his coming-of-age; something is haunting the people who live there, something tearing through them, a rising hate that is burrowing between the ribs like a knife.Miller takes us through Hudson, its activists and protestors, its corruption and gentrification, and its history of whale slaughter, and he does it in those ambitious and humanizing King strokes, introducing us to dozens of characters and making us fall in love with the three at the book’s heart: Ronan, his first love Dom, and Dom’s wife Attalah. (The relationship between these three was incredible—my favourite in all of Miller’s novels.) But the message of the novel is more akin to something out of Baldwin than King, the way human desire and the noble quests for justice lead us to dead ends and pain and, sometimes, a whole lot of hope.*The Blade Between* is a book that feels very NOW. As protestors and activists fight daily in the streets and online to bring justice to the oppressed and topple inhumane regimes of hate, Miller gives us a book that is at turns a wild revenge fantasy, and at others a powerful, resounding protest sign of a novel on the necessity of, and revolution that is, love.I will not promise a conventional reading experience here—like in any King or Miller novel, there are moments of the supernatural and the bizarre that will challenge you as a reader—but *The Blade Between* is impossible to put down. *The Blade Between* will make you want to talk about the issues within it and it will make you CARE—not just about these characters, but about the issues within it and about how hate has blinded or paralyzed us all from making a real difference. And that’s something I can promise you.

Read an ARC via NetGalleyTrigger warnings: Arson, stabbing, suicide, eviction, drug addiction, sexual assault (implied)The city of Hudson, New York is rich in a history that’s about to be erased by the gears of gentrification and corporate interests. The community fights back, but it isn’t until the whale gods and ghosts of Hudson’s past join the fray, feasting on hate and unleashing violence upon this already-tense community.It’d be ridiculous to say that every new Sam J. Miller book is my new favorite Sam J. Miller book because they all hit the same highs for me as a reader in their own unique ways.But holy heck, did I enjoy this one.I couldn’t keep my eyes off the unfolding horrors and thoughtfully-crafted exploration of gentrification, drug addiction, surviving homophobia, lost love, sordid history, ghosts, and community organizing blended so seamlessly. The precise language that’s consistent throughout all his works is present here, and there is no stone left unturned.I found Ronan’s arc so painfully compelling. He skipped town to pursue a photography career in New York and decided years later to return to a place that’s foreign to him. In terms of trying to save his father’s butcher shop, which feels like the last vestige of Hudson before the corporate invasion, he makes such an attempt. And then forces beyond his control imprint on that attempt, which involves catfishing on Grindr (an element I enjoyed far too much).I could not keep myself together as the terror unfolded. There’s more pedestrian terror of him trying to mentor a gay high schooler who isn’t out to his pastor mom, and then the supernatural horror of an entity he accidentally summons. You simply can’t look away from how badly and unintentionally this man fucks up. It all goes about as well as you’d expect, but I found the ending particularly cathartic.His relationship with Dom, Attalah, and Dom and Attalah hurt in the ways of “what could have been” and “none of us are really the people we were in high school, except we sort of are.” The way their love is both tough and tender depending on the scene, and sometimes in the same moment. The complexity here is such a thing to behold because it felt so realistic. What I found most interesting is that, with the exception of a few, none of the characters fell strictly into a camp of “good” or “bad.” They’re all trying to survive in the best and only ways they know how.An absolute treat for those who loved Hex and want something a little more thoughtful with a specific perspective on how gentrification is wreaking a terror we know on small town communities with a layer of supernatural fear which makes it all viscerally unsettling.

Miller is an incredibly gifted author with an amazing ability to bring his most imaginative, outlandish dreams to life. Blackfish City was my favorite book the year it came out, and I like The Blade Between just as much. I love the complicated, messy, loving queer families Miller creates, and the feeling that his worlds aren't weird for the sake of weirdness, they're weird because the world is magic.I do wish this book had been longer - I never wish that, usually - because I think some characters and concepts could have used more room to breathe. This was a fun world until it got mean; deeper connections would have raised the emotional stakes. I'm not mad at what I got, though, and I appreciated the focus on healing at the end.(Glancing over the reviews here, I see most of the negative/mixed/confused reviews come from the netgalley crowd. I don't get them. Don't all of us have enormous tbr piles? Who picks books just because they're on a free website and then complains that they're "not for them?" I seriously don't get that.)This has kept me up till 5am. I'll sleep well, and dream.

[Content warnings: book contains discussions of suicide; child sex abuse; and addiction]Holy horrific shit. Once again, Sam J. Miller has crafted a captivating story with writing that left me gutted and glutted with emotion: horror, despair, hope, hate, and love. This is one hell of a read, and I cannot recommend it more highly. Miller’s story made me lust for the next sentence, the next chapter, an ending I desperately needed to know yet never wanted to reach, I didn’t want to leave this tale, these exquisitely crafted—real—characters. Whether doing things I loved or hated, I was drawn to Ronan, Dom, and Attalah, not to mention the other persons Miller creates.I cannot accept that the only way to make things better in some ways is to make them so much worse in others. –Ronan Szepessy, p.195This is the story of Hudson, New York: a rapidly gentrifying small town with historic ties to the whaling industry. Though many of its residents can remember happy days of yore, when business was local and NYC residents didn’t invade it for weekend getaways, neither its past nor its present, we learn, were ever idyllic. Traumas across Hudson’s past invade its present, but the new residents and businesses also invade and prey upon Hudson. Miller’s story grapples with the interconnected legacies of colonization and gentrification. (view spoiler)[All of this starts to be revealed when, at the start of the book, Ronan Szepessy—a middle-aged gay photographer, who was born and raised in Hudson (his father once owned and operated the local butchery) but left and made a (very?) successful career in NYC. He left Hudson upon graduation, not long after his mother committed suicide and his father’s butcher shop went out of business. Ronan returns “home”—to a place he has avoided for twenty years due to the abusive homophobia he faced as a teen there—to discover it has changed drastically: antique stores; high-end dining, cafés, and bars; a tourist business; more gay acceptance; and the attention of Jark Trowse, a gay billionaire who has rooted his business (Penelope’s Quilt) in Hudson and is now running for mayor. Trowse is also behind a renovation project (Pequod Arms—a fitting Moby Dick reference) for luxury housing that is forcibly displacing longtime residents of Hudson due to high rents. The main holdout keeping this project from breaking ground is Szepessy’s father, whose closed butcher shop is on some of the real estate needed for Pequod Arms to succeed. But deeper supernatural forces are at work. With this set up, a thrilling plot unfolds as Ronan’s return stirs up the shit that’s been festering in, around, behind, and under Hudson for generations. When Ronan reunites with Dom—his secret high-school boyfriend for whom his feelings still smolder—and Dom’s wife, Attalah, a social worker and community organizer and activist, his hatred for what these gentrifying “invaders” have done to his town turns his energy to stopping them at all costs. Ronan and Attalah team up to take Hudson back for those who have been and are being pushed out—and to drive away the invaders.I’ll admit, I craved it. I wanted Ronan and Attalah to succeed. As Attalah tells Ronan his plan is “fucked up” (and she’s in), I was exhilarated, thrilled to watch some fucked up horror turned out upon people whose comfortable lives were built upon eviction, exploitation, and legalized theft. I should have known it wouldn’t be so simple: Miller knows what he’s doing. This book weaves a fiction from strands of his own experience as a child of (the real town of) Hudson and a butcher as well as his community organizing work, especially his activism around housing and homelessness. The plan Ronan and Attalah set in motion quickly goes viral, and the supernatural forces that drew Ronan home overtake their plan and multiply how fucked up it is. We aren’t talking multiplication of fucked-up-ness: this is a fucked-up plan hitting exponential growth.When that growth crescendos, suddenly the reader realizes Miller has taken our lust and used it to gut us, leaving us feeling like a whale carcass, blubbering across the sofa. From there, he makes us—and his characters—confront the mess we’ve/they’ve made. As we gaze histories of gentrification and colonization, we recognize our complicity in them. And he reminds us that what we—and our ancestors—destroyed cannot simply be repaired. There are horrors to face; there is work to do.In the midst of all this terribleness, though, compelling moments seep through. You cannot help but love the flawed characters who drive this story, especially Attalah, Dom, and Ronan. As a friendship-threesome and a complex love triangle with three very different couplings (only two of which are sexual), their complex love is compelling. There are elements of this world that would be wonderful to inhabit, and the horrors of this thrilling story teach lessons that readers need to experience. (hide spoiler)]The Blade Between delivers gut-wrenching fantasy. The novel blends horror/thriller and SFF, genres that Miller injects with a politically-oriented queerness. Miller gives his readers a delicious revenge fantasy that many of us crave (or maybe his writing makes you crave it). But, as we begin to feel sated, Miller reveals the horrors these cravings unleash, making us ask now what?

I like books with ambition, and Sam J. Miller's "The Blade Between" is stuffed to the blowhole with it. Miller's got a ton on his mind here: small-town bigotry and gentrification and familial loss and drug addiction and class exploitation and polyamory and vengeance and Grindr sex demons and literal whale gods swimming through the sky, just to name a few. It's a LOT, especially considering that at just under 400 pages it's not exactly an epic. Not all of the plot threads resolve in neatly satisfying ways, but that's okay. Somehow it all comes together impressionistically, if not always literally. In that sense this book reminds me of my favorite Paul Thomas Anderson films ("Magnolia" and "The Master," in particular): bursting at the seams with ideas it can't possibly contain. For as (relatively) compact as it is, it's SPRAWLING. There are so many narrative avenues to pursue here that it would have been easy to get lost in it, but Miller mostly does a great job of focusing us in on what's important.What makes it all hang together is the central thesis: hate (the literal "blade between" of the title). This book is about how hatred destroys even the best people, how it contorts the best intentions. It can lead to bigotry, yes, but also to a kind of self-righteous activism that is only a degree or two removed from nihilistic burn-it-all anarchy. Miller does a neat trick here: he pits us fully against the hipster gentrifiers and evictors invading upstate Hudson, NY, while at the same time making us absolutely terrified of the anti-gentrification "revolutionaries" at the center of the narrative. This is definitely a book for the current cultural moment.Miller didn't even need the supernaturalism to craft a fascinating portrait of a town in crisis. But somehow the sex demons and whale gods weave perfectly into the rich tapestry he is creating here. It all makes sense, even when it doesn't.The only thing that knocks this down from a five-star book to a four-star book for me (okay, maybe 4.5 stars) is my ambivalence about Miller's protagonist, Ronan. Ronan is a WILDLY inconsistent character--alternately vengeful, loving, self-destructive, exploitive, righteous, etc.--and I think that might be kind of the point. It's clear that Ronan--a famous, drug-addicted photographer who fled Hudson's homophobia as a young man but never escaped its psychological grip--is spinning out. As a portrait of a man losing control, he's very compelling. But he's also just a bit TOO articulate about his own demons. There's a level of self-awareness there that bangs up against his headlong sprint toward self destruction. And, at times, he's too conveniently inconsistent; he kind of becomes whoever Miller needs him to be in any given moment. At a point, it started to push against my suspension of disbelief.This may be a nitpick, though, and a case of "it's not you, it's me." Overall, this is a fantastic book and Miller is a fantastic writer. I'm so happy to have discovered him.

https://horrorbookwormreviews.com/ Welcome to Hudson. Because this little town is infected with depression, prejudice, and a declining economy, Ronan makes a life-changing decision to leave his hometown to pursue greener pastures. But after twenty years away, Ronan is summoned back for a return visit. His father’s butcher shop is in jeopardy by means of a real estate development project called Pequod Arms Project. Actively seeking ownership, the corporate powers undertake a sinister scheme fueled by hate, skullduggery, and deceit. Not only are people losing their houses due to an aggressive acquisition, they’re also losing their minds. The war over Hudson’s future has begun. The Blade Between is set in a waterfront harbor town where whale blubber was once the engine of its rich historical industry. However, as the economic uprising eventually collapses, an introduction to a society inflamed by vulgarity, bloodshed, and destruction begins. Using these destitute motives as leverage, central characters seek out the needs and weaknesses of those easily manipulated. A terminal facade between the new and the old consistently feed a storm of altercations that bring about lingering consequences. Laws will be broken, lives will be taken, and manipulation will rule the town of Hudson with an iron fist. Author Sam J. Miller weaves a disturbing tale of how fears and insecurities can be preyed upon to the point of escalated violence. He brilliantly orchestrates this transformation by utilizing schemes of co-conspirators and precarious shenanigans attaining new levels of deception. Tapping into a dark abyss of manipulation, Miller takes several approaches towards his tense plots. In return, this builds a momentum that reaches a surreal crescendo infested with gods, ghosts, and monsters. Readers, consider the actions you choose to undertake. The repercussions could result in maybe discovering a dead stinky rat cleverly hidden in your car or mailbox. A run-in with whale-headed marauders armed with harpoons may also very well occur. Although a supernatural fiction, The Blade Between addresses morality and its potential life lessons. The author mixes horror, compassion, and straight-up psychotic behavior into a gratifying reading experience. A strong recommendation for this imaginative ghost story, that’s also so much more. (originally posted at mysteryandsuspense.com)

I was excited to see a new novel being released by the author of “Blackfish City,” a novel I bought when it came out, always had intentions to read, but did not crack the spine. This means that I requested the ARC of “The Blade Between” on my excitement over the intentions of reading Sam J. Miller’s previous, acclaimed work. “The Blade Between” is about Hudson, a city with a rich history. This history fills the town with ghosts of people, of whales, and of the things that it used to be. Ronan fled Hudson as soon as he was old enough to leave, but now that his father is ill, he has come back to take care of him and his legal affairs. What he discovers is a Hudson that he does not recognize. The city with the local businesses have all turned into antique shops, art dealers, and hipsters. He meets up with his old friend and lover, Dom, and his new wife, and he hatches a plan to get the town back from the outsiders. “The Blade Between” starts as one man’s crusade to get his town back, but after a short time, the town has plans of it’s own. There is a supernatural force in this town, and for a story that could be a simple, city politics story, there is a second element to it that makes it engrossing. I can say that this supernatural force is all of the ghosts of the past, but this does not seem to be a fair assessment. There are just things that the town does that some of the citizens are not even aware of. The radio station is an example, playing whatever song is perfect for whatever listener at the particular time. So much of the city has it’s own agenda, and the characters are just merely the pawns. For the first half, I did not think that I liked this novel that much. There was something about the way that Ronan conducted himself that made him rough and unlikable. The novel never really shifts away from him much, but there are other characters and focused actions that kind of made me forget that Ronan is kind of a jerk. For not really liking it much, I did not realize that the novel was almost 400 pages long until the end. It did not seem that long. It reads fast and the story really was interesting and well structured. This might not be enjoyable for everyone, but there are some people that I will recommend this novel to. I just know that I now have to go back and read “Blackfish City.’I received this as an ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

I would definitely recommend this book to any horror fans. But at just over half way through, I am sadly putting it aside. Miller writes beautifully, and the book begins strong. The first chapter is stunning. As the story develops the characters and interesting and appealing, with elements of the spiritual ties of nature to human life and ghost story. But then malevolent beings are incarnated and that’s where I lost interest. But if you like horror stories, this may be the perfect book for you!I’m giving 4 stars to the wonderful half that I read!

An interesting thriller/dark fantasy mashup exploring gentrification in one American town. Totally bonkers, sometimes very dark, but enjoyable and fast-paced. The justified anger and hate that can result from the process of gentrification has unexpected consequences in this narrative, and the story circles around the question of what to do with those feelings--how to handle and act on them, without either ignoring or suppressing them, or allowing them to give rise to outsized violence and destruction.The town in the novel built its initial fortunes on whaling, but here in the Canadian city of Hamilton, a former steel giant (steel is still a big deal here, but it's not like it was) undergoing its own painful and dislocating process of gentrification, and being myself a fairly new resident who arrived here for a job just before housing prices really took off, I found this read thought-provoking and challenging in the best ways. I'd hate to think what our monsters would look like, what with all of those furnaces at their disposal, not to mention the actual steel.