My therapist—let's call her Dr. K—keeps telling me I need to "quiet my mind." Apparently, analyzing the psychological profiles of fictional serial killers for twelve hours a day isn't "restful." Who knew?
So, in a desperate attempt to stop thinking about the sociopathic tendencies of the protagonist in the thriller I'm currently dissecting, I downloaded Practical Guide to Self-Hypnosis. It's under four hours. I figured, worst case scenario, I get a nap out of it. Best case? I reprogram my brain to actually enjoy grading undergraduate papers. (Spoiler: That didn't happen. Nothing is that powerful.)
The Vibe: Less "Namaste," More "Listen Up"
Here's the thing about self-help audiobooks—usually, the narrators sound like they've inhaled too much incense. They whisper. They drift. It annoys me.
Andrea Fiore doesn't do that. Her delivery is... brisk. Clear. Straightforward. It feels less like a spiritual journey and more like a lecture from a very organized, slightly stern substitute teacher. She brings that same no-nonsense energy to Power of Concentration, which I actually appreciated more than I expected. And honestly? I kind of liked it.
There's no background music—thank god. I hate those synthesized flutes. It's just Fiore's voice, cutting through the noise. She articulates every syllable. If you're looking for warm and fuzzy, this isn't it. But if you want instructions that you can actually follow without falling asleep immediately (or rolling your eyes), she nails it. Functional. Efficient. Very New England.
The "Time Machine" Problem
We need to talk about the text itself. Melvin Powers wrote this a while ago, and oh boy, does it show.
About thirty minutes in, I realized something that made my left eye twitch. The text assumes the listener—or the subject of the hypnosis—is male. Repeatedly.
Look, I study narrative structures. I know that "he" was the default pronoun for decades. I get it. But trying to enter a state of deep relaxation while the narrator keeps addressing a "he" is... jarring. It pulls you right out of the trance. My brain stopped focusing on "heavy eyelids" and started drafting a lecture on implicit bias in mid-20th-century literature.
(My mother would say I'm being too sensitive. "Priya, just pretend you are a man, what is the big deal?" Maa, that is definitely not how psychology works.)
Does It Actually Work?
Despite the dated pronouns and the slightly dry delivery, the methodology is sound.
Psychologically speaking, Powers is using classic suggestion techniques. It's not magic; it's behavioral conditioning. The step-by-step nature of the instructions is actually solid. I didn't experience the "deep trance" some of the other reviewers raved about—probably because my analytical brain refuses to shut up—but I did find myself zoning out.
There's a section on "waking hypnosis" that was genuinely interesting from a clinical perspective. It strips away the mysticism and treats hypnosis as a skill you can learn, like knitting or cooking a decent dal. Untroubled Mind takes a similar approach—practical, demystified techniques for managing your own mental state.
If you can get past the dryness and the gender assumptions, the toolkit here is valid. It's basically a manual for hacking your own focus.
Who Should Listen (And Who Should Skip)
This one's for the skeptics who want hypnosis stripped of its woo-woo packaging—people who'd rather have a manual than a meditation retreat. Skip it if dated gendered language will yank you out of any relaxation state, or if you need warmth from your narrator.
Final Thoughts
Is this the most engaging audiobook I've ever heard? No. It's dry as toast. But sometimes you need toast.
If you want to learn the mechanics of self-hypnosis without the spiritual fluff, give it a shot. Just be prepared to mentally edit the pronouns as you go. I'm going back to my thrillers now—at least when those characters have identity crises, it's part of the plot.
