A Country Rivalry

I’ll admit, I approached *A Country Rivalry* expecting something gentle—a literary equivalent of a Sunday stroll through the countryside. Instead, I got a masterclass in how to wield a scalpel wrapped in a tea towel. Morgan’s writing thrives in the gaps between what’s said and what’s *meant*, and Harcourt’s narration amplifies this brilliantly. Her timing is impeccable, especially in scenes where dialogue drips with subtext, like when the village’s self-appointed matriarch ‘compliments’ a newcomer’s ‘*interesting*’ choice of curtain fabric. You can *hear* the air quotes. That said, the audiobook isn’t without its stumbles. The first hour feels slightly overstuffed with characters, and Harcourt’s decision to give the documentary filmmaker a breathy, almost caricatured ‘media type’ voice grated at first—though it grows on you as the character’s arrogance becomes the point. The real standout is the production’s use of silence: pauses after cutting remarks land like dagger twists, and the lack of background music lets the prose’s barbs shine. My only real critique? The ending ties up *just* a little too neatly for a story that otherwise revels in messiness. But if you love audiobooks where the narration feels like a performance—where every inflection adds layers—this is a treat. Just don’t listen while sipping tea; you might choke on the pettiness.