Leviathan Wakes

“Recycled air that had passed through a million lungs. Water from the tap so clean it could be used for lab work, but it had been piss and shit and tears and blood and would be again. The circle of life on Ceres was so small you could see the curve. He liked it that way.”

Miller is a proud Belter. He doesn’t feel inferior to the Inners and sees no reason to imitate their worlds. He doesn’t like the idea of planetary gravity pulling him down or the tenuous balance of a natural atmosphere. He likes structure and control, two traits that are absolutely key to life in the Belt.

“Racist propaganda bullshit […] It’s the one that says the difference in environment has changed the Belters so much that instead of just being a bunch of skinny obsessive-compulsives, they aren’t really human anymore.”

Havelock challenges Miller’s apparent defense of the “selective effect,” the idea that Belters prioritize environmental systems over individual lives. He considers it racist to view Belters in that light, arguing that it minimizes their humanity. Miller retorts that he’s not implying that Belters are somehow inhuman, but he thinks maybe he is. It’s noteworthy that it’s an Earther who is pointing out Miller’s prejudicial attitude toward his fellow Belters, a form of internalized racism in the Expanse universe.

“There would be time for rigor, and a first impression was usually more useful than an encyclopedia.”

Miller’s detective chops are on display here. The prose style is reminiscent of hard-boiled mysteries like Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep. Simple language expresses a wealth of information about how the character thinks.

“I didn’t switch sides. I stopped playing.”

This line encapsulates Holden’s self-perception. He sees himself as a pacifist who rejects game-playing. He is the archetypal hero who initially rejects the call to action yet is inevitably drawn in by circumstance. Indeed, Holden’s inability to stand idle during major catastrophes despite his preference for pacifism and neutrality is one of his core traits.

“Once he’d held a woman’s hand while she bled to death.”

This line conveys a scene of tenderness amid violence, which illustrates Miller’s contradictory nature. He’s so used to violence that he’s almost comfortable with it, yet he has a well of compassion. He’s also practical and seems to instinctively know what must be done. The dying woman needed human contact, so he supplied it.

“‘Jesus,’ says Havelock. ‘What scares the OPA?’”

Havelock’s rhetorical question, positioned at the end of the chapter, heightens the tension. It has the dual effect of functioning as a cliffhanger and characterizing the OPA as a fearless group that must be taken seriously.

“It always surprised Miller how peaceful dead people looked. However godawful the circumstances, the slack calm that came at the end looked like sleep. It made him wonder if when his turn came, he’d actually feel that last relaxation.”

Comparing death with sleep is a common cliché, but here, Miller finds it surprising. He has seen a lot of death in many forms, but he is still not inured to the way it manifests as “slack calm.” There’s also a bit of foreshadowing here as Miller ponders his own demise and imagines it as a release. The word “slack” suggests the opposite of his daily grind.

“I thought I was good […]. You know, all this time, I thought I was at least good.”

Miller is drunk, and he’s repeating himself. The repetition, which is echoed a third time in subsequent dialogue, provokes the reader to consider what Miller means by “good.” On the surface, he no doubt means competent. A possible subtext is that he’s questioning his value as a person.

“The beautiful thing about losing your illusions, he thought, was that you got to stop pretending.”

Illusions often obscure a gritty reality, but Miller, who lives in a gritty world, considers losing illusions—and confronting reality—a benefit. He values the release that comes with not having to sustain false beliefs. On one hand, this observation reveals Miller’s deep sadness, but on the other, it implies a yearning for truth and an appreciation for honesty.

“Now that events had thrown him out, everything had an odd, floating feeling. Like the gap between getting hit and feeling the pain.”

The authors use simile to convey the disconnect Miller feels after being fired from the job he expected to hold for life. The “odd, floating feeling” is suggestive of dissociation, a response to psychological trauma in which a person feels disconnected and detached from their surroundings. Miller’s life is crumbling, but in this moment, he is numb, suspended in a state of expectation, with the deep hurt yet to come.

“You keep everyone in orbit around you.”

Naomi uses a fanciful conceit, comparing Holden to a sun that keeps everyone else in a steady orbit. This gives readers a glimpse of Naomi’s true feelings toward Holden, which she has chosen to suppress. It also illuminates his character by revealing what others think of him: He is the crew’s center. He holds them together as a unit.

“Greed and casino design had turned Eros into an architectural cattle run.”

This metaphor provides a good visual representation of the station, which is built to force exposure to its various temptations. It also foreshadows the horror that’s to come, when people actually are driven to slaughter, like cattle.

“He couldn’t accept sympathy. He couldn’t accept comfort. A gentle touch would shatter him, so he stayed hard instead.”

The “gentle touch” that could “shatter” is an example of antithesis, a rhetorical technique that puts two contrasting ideas in parallel. It effectively describes the intensity of Miller’s reaction to the horror of Julie’s condition when he finally finds her. A “gentle touch” isn’t likely to shatter anything in a physical sense, but this description is relatable to anyone who has suffered a devastating emotional blow that brought them to the edge of breakdown.

“Talking to Miller felt like digging through granite with a rubber chisel.”

Holden’s observation about Miller strengthens their status as character foils. His use of simile paints an image of Miller encased in a hard shell, but in this case, it’s his characteristic lack of trust that is on display. He doesn’t trust the Earther he blames for starting the war. His habit of keeping information to himself contrasts with Holden’s openness.

“‘Still,’ Holden said, talking to Miller, ‘you hate a mystery.’

‘I do at that,’ Miller replied with a nod and a faint smile. ‘And you, my friend, are a damn busybody.’”

Holden and Miller have found common ground, and it’s reflected in their attitudes toward one another. This marks the beginning of their joining forces in what will turn out to be a sweeping adventure with massively high stakes.

“Loud voices, screams, the low, liquid sound of people being violently ill. The air scrubbers were failing, the air taking on a deep, pungent odor like beef broth and acid.”

Alliteration, sensory imagery, and simile combine to convey the chaos and horror of the attack on Eros. Beyond the human toll, the language suggests an almost organic dissolution of the mechanical workings of the station’s life support systems as well.

“‘Protogen, Protomolecule,’ Holden said. ‘They had no idea what it does, but they slapped their label on it like they’d made it. They found an alien weapon, and all they could think to do was brand it.’”

With this expression of outrage, Holden sums up an important plot point—humanity’s capitalistic tendency to exploit anything for profit and power—while revealing the fiery side of his character. This also touches on one of the important themes in the book: Cynicism Versus Idealism. Holden’s cynical view of corporate and capital interests contrasts with his more idealized views on justice and humanity: He sees people as people, not as representatives of divided political entities like the Belt or Earth or Mars.

“‘There’s a right thing to do,’ Holden said. ‘You don’t have a right thing, friend,’ Miller said, ‘You have a whole plateful of maybe a little less wrong.’”

This exchange succinctly characterizes Holden and Miller. Holden is the idealist who believes that a moral solution is always available. Miller is the pragmatist who believes that harm reduction is often as good as it gets.

“There were two sides fighting—that was true enough—but they weren’t the inner planets versus the Belters. They were the people who thought it was a good idea to kill people who looked or acted differently against the people who didn’t.”

Miller’s analysis highlights the Conflict Incited by Tribalism and Othering between the story’s three major powers. He knows there are Inners who are sympathetic to the Belter cause—for example, Fred, Havelock, and Julie. For Miller, nothing is black and white; he sees the world in shades of gray.

“‘Let me get this straight,’ he said. ‘You’ll give me all the kingdoms of the Earth if I just bow down and do one act of worship for you?’ Dresden cocked his head. ‘I don’t know the reference.’”

This passage exemplifies the use of religious references as a motif in the book. Here, Fred Johnson compares Dresden’s attempts to negotiate with him with Satan’s efforts to tempt Jesus. Dresden’s response that he doesn’t know the biblical reference—a foundational image in Christian (and Western) conceptions of right versus wrong, moral versus sinful—underscores his sociopathic nature. What he’s really saying is that he doesn’t care if others think he’s evil.

“The scientists on this station had killed a million and a half people just to see what would happen. They couldn’t be dead enough for Holden’s comfort.”

Holden, who usually insists on doing the right thing, experiences uncharacteristic moral ambiguity in this scene. The dead man in the white coat is holding a kitchen knife—he literally brought a knife to a gunfight—but Holden’s desire for vengeance leaves no room for concern over due process of the law or the propriety of shooting first and asking questions later.

“What we’re doing is the best and only hope of humanity’s survival. When we go out there, we will be facing gods.”

Dresden, the mastermind of the mass murder on Eros, makes what seems like a powerful argument in defense of Protogen’s actions. The creator of the Protomolecule already tried once to destroy humanity, and Earth was saved only by the luck of Saturn’s rings deflecting the attack. The authors describe Dresden as having the zeal of a prophet as he warns against the coming battle between humans and the gods “out there.” This religious reference harks back to the days of primitive humans who looked at the sky and believed it to be the domain of all-powerful gods.

“All he needed was a way to remake himself, to start over and be someone different from who he’d been.”

Miller is thinking of a personal and career change, but this lays the groundwork for something far more drastic. Coming just a few pages after his imaginary Julie says he belongs with her, this line foreshadows Miller’s decision to join the real Julie on Eros, surrendering himself to the Protomolecule and ultimately sparing Earth from annihilation, proving himself as the “good man” he wanted to be.