What makes a woman decide she'd rather fly solo across the Atlantic than stay in a marriage? I mean, literally fly. Across an ocean. In the 1930s. That's the question I kept turning over during my twelve hours with Beryl Markham's story, and honestly? Paula McLain made me understand it completely.
I picked this up because I loved The Paris Wife years ago (back when I had time to read actual books with my eyes), and I'd been saving Circling the Sun for when I needed something transportive. Spoiler: three kids later, I always need something transportive.
The Slow Burn That Paid Off
Okay, I'm going to be honest here. The first few chapters? I almost bailed. Katharine Lee McEwan's narration starts a little... soft. Careful. And Beryl Markham was famously not soft or careful. She was the kind of woman who trained racehorses in colonial Kenya and then decided that wasn't exciting enough, so she became a bush pilot. The early pacing felt like McEwan was finding her footing, and I was listening during Sophie's nap time thinking "please don't let this be a waste of my precious silence."
But here's the thing—around chapter five, something clicks. The narrator settles in, the story picks up momentum, and suddenly I'm sitting in my car in the garage for an extra twenty minutes because I need to know what happens with Denys Finch Hatton. (Yes, THE Denys from Out of Africa. Same guy. This is basically the other side of that love triangle, and it's messy and complicated and so, so good.)
McEwan's Voice: Lush Landscapes, Softer Edges
McEwan has this melodious British voice that works beautifully for the Kenya descriptions. When she's painting pictures of the African landscape—the savanna, the horses, the wildness of it all—I genuinely felt transported. Like, I'm folding laundry in suburban Ohio but my brain is in 1920s Nairobi. That's the magic of a good audiobook.
But I'll admit, her voice sometimes feels a bit delicate for adult Beryl. Young, naive Beryl? Perfect fit. The determined, scandal-courting, convention-breaking woman who sleeps with married men and crashes planes and doesn't apologize for any of it? Sometimes I wanted a little more edge. More grit. It's not a dealbreaker, but worth mentioning if you're picturing someone who sounds as fierce as Beryl actually was.
The accents are solid though—credible African and British voices that don't pull you out of the story. And after that rocky start, the pacing evens out nicely. Survived my 47 pauses and still made sense. High praise.
Less Flying, More Heartbreak (In a Good Way)
So here's what surprised me: I thought this would be primarily about flying. Pioneer aviatrix! First woman to fly solo across the Atlantic east to west! Historic achievement! And yes, that's in here. But this is really a book about love—the messy, impossible, heartbreaking kind. Beryl's relationships are disasters. Multiple marriages, an affair with a man who's also involved with Karen Blixen (Isak Dinesen, the Out of Africa author), and this constant tension between wanting to be loved and needing to be free.
McLain doesn't judge Beryl for her choices, which I appreciated. She presents this complicated woman as she was—brave and reckless, passionate and selfish, ahead of her time in some ways and very much of her time in others. That same nuanced approach to messy, complicated women is what made Little Fires Everywhere so compelling for me. If you're coming for a straightforward feminist hero story, you might be disappointed. Beryl is more complicated than that. But honestly? That's what made her interesting.
I will say—if you're here specifically for aviation content, you might want to temper expectations. The flying comes later in the book and isn't the main focus. This is about the woman, not just her achievements. Which worked for me, but I know some listeners wanted more cockpit time.
Worth Your Precious Silence
At twelve hours, this is a commitment. But it's the kind of commitment that rewards you. I finished it over about two weeks of school drop-offs and nap times and those sacred garage moments, and by the end I was genuinely emotional. Not ugly-crying at pickup, but close.
Perfect for: Anyone who loved The Paris Wife. Fans of historical fiction about real women who refused to fit the mold. People who want to escape to somewhere beautiful and complicated for a while.
Maybe skip if: You need fast pacing from page one, or you're expecting a bold, fierce narration style. The gentle approach might not match your mental image of Beryl.
I listened at my usual 1.25x and it felt just right—the prose is beautiful enough that you don't want to rush it, but not so dense that you'll lose the thread between interruptions. Made me want to read Beryl Markham's own memoir, West with the Night, which is apparently stunning. Adding it to my list of "books I'll get to when my kids are in college."
