Across Five Aprils

I’ll admit I approached *Across Five Aprils* with skepticism—another Civil War novel told from a kid’s perspective? How original could it be? But from the first chapter, Hunt’s writing disarmed me. Jethro isn’t some wide-eyed innocent; he’s a kid forced to grow up faster than any child should, and his voice feels achingly real. The way he navigates grief, fear, and even occasional cruelty with a mix of confusion and quiet resolve is gutting. Stechschulte’s narration is where this audiobook truly shines. His voice has the texture of a man who’s seen too much, yet he never overdoes the gravitas. There are moments—especially during the scenes with Jethro’s older brother Shad—where Stechschulte’s delivery feels just a beat too slow, as if he’s letting the silence hang a little longer than necessary. It’s a minor quibble, but it occasionally disrupts the pacing in a way that makes you reach for the 10-second rewind button more than you’d like. That said, his ability to differentiate between characters—particularly the weary, pragmatic Jethro and the fiery, idealistic Eb—is nothing short of brilliant. The production itself is clean, with no distracting background noise, and the pacing is brisk enough to keep you engaged through the slower philosophical stretches. My biggest critique? The ending feels abrupt, as if Hunt was eager to tie up Jethro’s journey without quite giving it the full emotional payoff it deserves. But even that doesn’t diminish the book’s power. By the last chapter, I was blinking back tears not from a dramatic crescendo, but from the quiet, cumulative weight of Jethro’s resilience. This is a story that lingers long after the final line, and Stechschulte’s narration makes sure it sticks.