Astrid Parker Doesn't Fail

I’ll admit it: I side-eyed Astrid Parker for the first three hours. On paper, she’s the kind of protagonist who could feel insufferable—a woman so wedded to her five-year plan that she color-codes her emotional breakdowns. But here’s the thing: Ashley Herring Blake doesn’t let her off the hook, and neither does Kristen DiMercurio, whose narration peels back Astrid’s polished veneer to reveal something far more interesting: a woman who’s *terrified* of being unremarkable. DiMercurio’s performance is masterclass in restraint; she delivers Astrid’s internal monologues with a tight, controlled tremor, as if every admission might shatter her. When Jordan—all lazy grin and unapologetic mess—enters the scene, the contrast isn’t just funny; it’s *electric*. Their first fight (over a demolished kitchen wall, naturally) had me rewinding just to savor DiMercurio’s shift from Astrid’s icy composure to raw, spitting frustration. The audiobook’s production leans into its strengths: minimal background noise, crisp dialogue tags, and a pacing that mirrors Astrid’s unraveling. That said, the middle act drags slightly—Blake’s subplot about Astrid’s estranged father feels undercooked compared to the razor focus on her and Jordan’s dynamic. And while DiMercurio nails the emotional beats, her male voices (particularly Astrid’s ex) occasionally veer into caricature. But these are quibbles. What lingers is how *funny* this book is—not in a punchline way, but in the way only queer women writing for queer women can be, where the humor lives in the specificity of Astrid’s horror at Jordan’s “just wing it” philosophy. By the end, you’re not just rooting for the romance; you’re rooting for Astrid to finally, gloriously, *fail* at being perfect.