I was closing up the branch last Tuesday—rain hitting the windows, Shirley (my cat, not the author) judging me from her perch on the circulation desk—when I started this. A librarian protagonist? Who reads murder mysteries and solves crimes in a creepy, foggy village? I mean, come on. It's like M.E. Hilliard looked at my life, added a few more dead bodies, and packaged it for sale. I am the target audience. I literally live this aesthetic.
But—and this is a massive, bolded, underlined but—we need to talk about the audio execution. Because yikes.
The Librarian Detective Trope (My Kryptonite)
Look, Greer Hogan is relatable. She finds a body (her best friend, ouch) and instead of waiting for the cops to bumble through it, she uses her "librarian resourcefulness" to dig. I love that. We love that. The atmosphere of Raven Hill is solid, too. It's got that insular, "everyone has a secret and probably a weapon" energy that I thrive on. The writing itself? It works. It's atmospheric, it's moody, it's got the right amount of dread.
Hound of the Baskervilles scratches that same itch—a location so soaked in menace it practically becomes a character itself.(And yes, I may have side-eyed my own patrons the next day wondering if they were hiding decades-old secrets. Occupational hazard.)
Wait, Did She Say That Out Loud?
Here is where I have to take off my "fan of the genre" hat and put on my "audiobook snob" hat.
Madeleine Lambert has a great voice. It's theatrical, it's clear, she commits to the emotion. But—I honestly don't know who directed this session—there is zero distinction between Greer's internal monologue and her spoken dialogue. Zero.
I'm standing there trying to shelve biographies, and I have to stop, put a book down, and rewind. Did she just accuse the suspect to his face, or did she just think it? It happens constantly. It turns a cozy, suspenseful listen into a guessing game of "Who Can Hear This Conversation?"
It breaks the immersion. Badly. I found myself getting frustrated rather than scared, which is the opposite of why I listen to thrillers in the dark.
The Verdict from the Stacks
I wanted to love this. Seriously. The premise is my bread and butter. But the audio production choice (or lack thereof) regarding the internal thoughts makes it a tough recommend. If you can get past the confusion, the story is there. But if you're like me and need to know exactly who is saying what and when? Maybe grab the physical book for this one.
Who should listen: Cozy mystery fans who don't mind rewinding and can roll with some audio ambiguity. Who should skip: Anyone who needs crystal-clear distinction between thoughts and dialogue—you'll spend more time confused than creeped out.
Shirley was unimpressed by my constant rewinding. I'm with her on this one.
