Bad Behavior

I’ll admit: I had to pause *Bad Behavior* more than once. Not because it’s poorly done—quite the opposite. Gaitskill’s narration is so unvarnished, so *present*, that her stories don’t just unfold; they *happen* to you. Take *Daisy’s Valentine*, for example. Her reading of the protagonist’s self-loathing isn’t performative; it’s like she’s recalling the memory in real time, her voice tightening around the edges of sentences where the shame peaks. That rawness is the audiobook’s greatest strength—and, occasionally, its liability. The production is sparse (no frills, just Gaitskill and her words), which suits the material, but the lack of dynamic range in her delivery can make longer stories like *The Girl on the Plane* feel monotonous if you’re not locked in. The real standout here is how Gaitskill wields silence. She’ll end a story on a line so brutal (*“She wanted to be used.”*) and let it hang in the air, unsoftened by music or narration tricks. It’s a bold choice, and it works—most of the time. My one critique? Her pacing in dialogue-heavy sections (*Looking for Mr. Goodbar*-esque exchanges in *Connection*) can feel rushed, as if she’s eager to move past the small talk to the psychological gut-punch. Still, that’s part of the appeal: this isn’t an audiobook that panders. It’s for listeners who want their fiction to leave marks, not just entertain. And yes, it will make you squirm. That’s the point.