Look, I have a bone to pick with Tarryn Fisher. Not because The Wrong Family isn't good—it absolutely is—but because she's made it impossible for me to trust anything anymore. Every character, every conversation, every seemingly innocent detail? I'm side-eyeing all of it now. This is what happens when an author conditions you to expect the rug pulled out from under you. Repeatedly. With malicious glee.
I listened to this during a late shift at the library, headphones in while shelving returns in the horror section (yes, the vibes were immaculate, thank you for asking). And I'll admit—I jumped. Audibly. A patron definitely noticed. Worth it? Absolutely.
Juno Is the Roommate From Hell (In the Best Way)
Here's the thing about unreliable narrators in thrillers: most authors think they're being clever when really they're just being confusing. Fisher actually pulls it off. Juno, our dying-therapist-turned-live-in-tenant, is immediately suspicious—but in that way where you can't quite put your finger on why. Is she a victim? A predator? Both? The book keeps you guessing without feeling like it's cheating.
And the Crouch family. Oh, the Crouches. Winnie and Nigel present as this perfect suburban couple, and I knew—I KNEW—something was rotten underneath. But Fisher doesn't just give you the obvious "perfect family with dark secrets" trope. She layers it. Twists it. Makes you question whether your suspicions are even pointing in the right direction.
The pacing here is tight. Like, really tight. No filler chapters, no meandering subplots about someone's childhood trauma that goes nowhere. Everything serves the story. I burned through nine hours without realizing it, which is saying something because thrillers can drag in the middle. This one doesn't.
Lauren Fortgang Commits to the Menace
Fortgang's narration? She commits. That's rare in thriller audiobooks where narrators sometimes play it too safe, keeping everything at the same emotional register. Not here. She captures Juno's quiet menace, Winnie's brittle desperation, the underlying tension in every domestic scene. When the reveals hit, her delivery makes them land harder.
She's not just reading words—she's building dread. The pacing of her delivery matches the book's escalating tension perfectly. When things get dark (and they get DARK), she doesn't flinch from it. She leans in.
One thing I noticed some listeners mention: her American accent can be challenging for non-US listeners. I can see that. But honestly, for the material? It works. This is suburban American horror—manicured lawns hiding ugly secrets. The accent fits the setting.
The Darkness Is the Point
I need to be upfront: this book is bleak. There's violence, psychological manipulation, and very little relief. If you need your thrillers to have moments of lightness, or characters you can actually root for without reservations, this might not be your book.
But if you're like me—if you think horror isn't about gore but about dread, about the slow realization that something is deeply, fundamentally wrong—this delivers. Fisher understands that the scariest things happen in quiet rooms between people who are supposed to love each other. That domestic dread is something I've been chasing in every thriller I pick up—though I'll admit Gingerbread Cookie Murder went for cozy instead of crushing existential terror.
The beginning can be disorienting. I'll give the critics that. Fisher drops you into the situation without much hand-holding, and it takes a bit to orient yourself. But stick with it. The payoff is worth the initial confusion.
Shirley (my cat) was unimpressed by my gasps during the final act. I, however, was not. The twists aren't just shocking for shock's sake—they recontextualize everything you thought you understood. That's craft.
Who Should Trust No One (And Who Should Skip)
If you loved The Wives, you already know what you're getting. If you haven't read Fisher before, this is actually a solid entry point—it's self-contained, doesn't require any series knowledge, and showcases exactly what she does best: making you trust no one, least of all yourself.
Skip this if you need likeable protagonists or happy endings. Skip this if psychological darkness isn't your thing. But if you want a thriller that actually thrills, that makes you suspicious of every sentence, that keeps you up past your bedtime because you NEED to know what happens? This is it.
My podcast listeners are going to love this. I'm already planning the episode.
