A Dog Called Valentine

Felicity Munroe’s narration is the glue that holds this audiobook together, threading together Lily’s weary resilience and Valentine’s skittish charm with effortless nuance. Her voice is warm but never cloying, and she nails the tonal shifts—whether Lily is snapping at a well-meaning coworker or cooing at a dog who won’t meet her eyes—without overacting. The pacing is brisk enough to keep a listener engaged but never rushed, allowing space for the story’s emotional beats to land. That said, the production occasionally leans too hard into a Hallmark-esque sheen, particularly in the closing act. The music cues feel a bit on-the-nose (think: strings swelling every time Valentine sighs dramatically), which undercuts the rawness Snopek nails in her prose. If you’re the type who bristles at what feels like manufactured sentiment, those moments might grate—but they’re mercifully brief. The standout is how Munroe makes Valentine’s silences *loud*. You’ll ache for the dog’s fear just from hearing his ragged breathing on the other end of the line. By the time Lily finally earns his trust, you’ll feel like you’ve been holding your own breath for chapters. It’s a small, specific triumph in an audiobook that otherwise plays it safe, but sometimes that’s exactly what’s needed.