A Christmas Tree

I approached *A Christmas Tree* expecting another saccharine Dickensian Christmas tale—you know, the kind that makes you misty-eyed over roaring fires and goblin markets. Instead, I found a profoundly personal essay that uses a childhood memory as a lens to examine how time warps joy into longing. Sam Kusi’s narration is the secret weapon here. His voice has this rich, gravelly timbre that somehow feels both timeless and intimate, like a favorite uncle reading aloud by candlelight. He nails the tonal shifts, toggling between Dickens’ wry humor and sudden, aching tenderness—especially in passages where the author reflects on his own father’s decline. The pacing is almost meditative, which could frustrate listeners craving a plot, but it’s exactly right for this meandering, philosophical piece. That said, Kusi occasionally leans too hard into the performative, with exaggerated pauses that teeter on the edge of camp. And while the minimalist production is refreshing, I wondered if a touch of subtle ambient sound (distant carolers? a crackling hearth?) might have deepened the immersion. But these are minor quibbles. The real magic of *A Christmas Tree* is how it turns a simple image—an old Christmas tree adorned with trinkets—into a metaphor for memory itself. By the final sentence, I was left with that bittersweet ache Dickens does so well, and Kusi’s performance made it feel like a gift. If you’re in the mood for something short, startlingly original, and deeply human, this audiobook is a sleeper hit.