A Fire So Wild

I’ll admit, I went into *A Fire So Wild* skeptical. Another ‘city as character’ story? But Ruiz-Grossman’s Brooklyn isn’t a postcard—it’s a living, breathing thing, and she writes it with a specificity that feels almost voyeuristic. The novel follows Mira, a Puerto Rican bartender with a chip on her shoulder, and Oliver, a wealthy white guy who’s *trying* to be woke but keeps stumbling into his own privilege. Their dynamic is electric, uncomfortable, and painfully real. The way Ruiz-Grossman handles their power imbalances—through dialogue that’s sharp enough to draw blood—is masterful. I found myself wincing during their arguments, not because they were overdone, but because they *weren’t*. That’s the kind of authenticity that’s rare in fiction. Marisha Tapera’s performance elevates the material even further. She has this incredible ability to make even the most unlikeable characters compelling—her Oliver isn’t a caricature of privilege, but a guy whose self-awareness is always a beat too late. The pacing is where the audiobook *really* shines; Tapera knows when to speed up during Mira’s sarcastic rants and when to slow down for the quieter, more devastating moments (like the scene in the bodega at 3 a.m.—*chills*). My only critique? The ending feels a touch rushed, like Ruiz-Grossman wasn’t sure whether to burn it all down or let the embers smolder. And while the secondary characters are vivid, a few (like Mira’s roommate) could’ve used more depth. But these are quibbles. The audiobook’s production is flawless—no distracting edits, no awkward pauses—just a raw, immersive experience. If you’ve ever loved a city that didn’t love you back, this one will gut you.