YOU by Caroline Kepnes

Narrated by Santino Fontana

     Sick

Listening to YOU will force you into a season of introspective self-loathing and disgust, especially if you make it all the way to the end. This book has no silver lining no pot-of-gold reward at the end of the non-existent rainbow. YOU is undiluted and unremittingly debased depravity from start to finish. And, yes I did finish, so that explains why I am so negative in my descriptions here. Delving into this book forces the listener to tap into the lexicon of derogatory and morose words that are, admittedly, so great to find something to use them on that one can look fondly upon the material that caused you to dredge them out.

Think of this audiobook production is a sociological experiment on the mind—your mind. What could a writer do to make the listener be willing to Masochistically torture themselves for days; immersing themselves into the twisted and depraved mind of a narcissistic serial killer? First the story would have to be told in the first person and be peppered with flecks of truth that even normal people could relate to. Then the reader could be taken in by setting the story in the world of books. Who doesn’t like a story about a book lover? The characters would necessarily need to be realistic to a degree. The demented stalker would share the opinion on many readers by being a quick judge of character, able to see through Ivy-League educated, hypocritical rich spoiled brats and to make sarcastic comments about them that make you feel smug. Right away you can relate to the protagonist in at least one aspect; so, later, when he is revealed to be a sick pervert the listener will not immediately abandon the book for something light and uplifting. Now the most critical element comes into play: we must find a great narrator—no, a performer—who can insinuate himself into our head through the ears with seductive serrations and spot-on character voicings.

Here is where the insidious Santino Fontana makes his contribution. Santino, I feel like we are on a first name basis after suffering through this excruciation together, is a wonderful narrator. He is the only reason many of us will be able to stick it out until the end and finish this book. He is so good at making this book seem normal, when it is not—it is a sick twisted thing meant to force you to embrace your most base nature. And for this reason Santino is largely to blame for my ennui. Were it not for him I would have bailed on this book before the half-way mark. But because he is so good at depicting the malignant and profane as completely normal I listened to the very end—and he even made me think I enjoyed it. I can never forgive him for that. 

DEATH WORLD Undying Mercenaries, Book 5 by B.V. Larson

Narrated by Mark Boyett

     Poor Impulse Control

McGill, Turov, Claver, Natasha, Carlos, Graves, Keevee, Della—reckless, narcissistic, conniving, sneaky, irritating, steadfast, petulant, and feral by turns—they are all back in Death World. Larson has created a cast of great characters, all closely intertwined with our hero James Mcgill, and this allows him to put those people in interesting situations. This is the strong suit of the series, his people are great and the conflicts in which he inserts them become interesting because they themselves are interesting. McGill’s misadventures are driven by his lack of personal restraint and personal sense of honor. McGill is a wonderful character with a fascinating approach to life, navigating through every circumstance as a loose cannon, willing to live with the consequences of his decisions, and repeatedly being vindicated for his insubordinate acts. In one hilarious scene, one of his superiors asks him for advice in how to get away with disobeying a direct order. This is great entertainment. Don’t miss it. I certainly won’t miss the next installment of the misadventures of James McGill.

Mark Boyett is amazing here and his portrayal of female voices with his deep male vocal cords is always convincing. 

IT by Stephen King

Narrated by Steven Weber

     Pennywise—Pound Foolish    

First the good news.

The strength of Stephen King’s horror is in his ability to portray people in their natural state before subjecting them to the supernatural menace that will inevitably befall them. And, since this is such a very long novel, the listener must be prepared for a lot of scene-building before the weird stuff comes to a climax. Such a massive tome is not for those requiring instant gratification, but for those willing to stick it out for the long haul. In this novel King populates it with some endearing characters. It is clear that King still has a childlike remembrance of what it is like to be a child, a kid afraid of things that go b

ump in the night; knowing that no grown-up will, or even can, understand the situation.

Having listened to several Stephen King novels I found this one to have the most intricate construction. King does not tell this story in chronological order, instead choosing to follow the characters disjointedly, first in early childhood and then later in life as adults, interposing various plot developments as the climax draws near. I found this to be a most enjoyable construction technique, very effective in postponing revealing plot developments until they will have the most impact.

Steven Weber narrates this in such a masterful fashion that he elevates this from a solid fictional diversion into a full blown entertainment experience. He uses his tremendous range to portray each fictional character in a different voice. With the dynamic range of classical music his application of various degrees of amplitude during tense scenes adds to the emotional impact but will play havoc with your eardrums if you have the volume turned up to hear the nuances of his voice during the quiet scenes. Be prepared—this is an dramatic rendering of a book written to evoke a great deal of emotion.

And then the bad news.

There is a scene near the end where the twelve year old children try to find a way to reunite themselves emotionally in an effort to escape the alienating influence of the monster. Horrifically, they resort to a deflowering orgy as the unifying act. This scene told sweetly and tenderly, is ironically, the most horrific of any in the book. The other monster scenes are so otherworldly as to be cliché. Now I don’t know if Stephen King intended this to be such a repulsive climax, but the impact of the monster scenes seem almost comic in comparison to the acts the children are forced to perform to vanquish it. This, and the quixotic Turtle creation-myth that is offered as the explanation for source of  power for the monster, lessened the impact of the novel severely, and made me disengage completely from the characters. Suffice to say that the end did not hold the interest that the first forty-two hours of the book did hold for me.