El aventurero Simplicissimus [Simplicissimus the Adventurer]

I’ll be honest: *Simplicissimus* is a tough listen, but that’s the point. This isn’t an adventure story—it’s an anti-adventure, a 19-hour indictment of war and human folly wrapped in the guise of a picaresque tale. Ibáñez Durán’s narration is the glue holding it together. His voice cracks with age when Simplicissimus does, and his deadpan delivery of the novel’s most absurd moments (like the protagonist’s stint as a ‘hermit’ who’s really just a con artist) makes the satire razor-sharp. I found myself laughing at lines that, in another context, would be horrifying—that’s the book’s genius. The production isn’t flawless, though. The audio levels occasionally dip during quieter passages, forcing me to crank the volume, and the lack of chapter markers in some sections makes it hard to pause and return later. More frustrating is the story’s meandering middle, where Simplicissimus’ misadventures start to blur together; even Grimmelshausen seems to lose focus, and the narration can’t fully mask the drag. Yet the finale—when the protagonist’s hard-won ‘wisdom’ curdles into something bitter—justifies the slog. This isn’t a book for escapism, but for listeners who crave literature that’s as messy and contradictory as life itself. If you’ve ever rolled your eyes at tidy historical fiction, *Simplicissimus* will feel like a bracing slap in the face.