Exactly Like My Father

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first. Another ‘perfect’ woman undone by family drama? But *Exactly Like My Father* subverts every trope it flirts with. Olivia isn’t likable—she’s prickly, judgmental, and her sobriety isn’t a moral victory but a brittle performance. When her brother dies, Kane doesn’t give us maudlin flashbacks or tearful eulogies. Instead, we get Olivia coldly calculating how to spin the news to her colleagues, and it’s *devastating* because of how ordinary it feels. Arbuckle’s narration is a revelation here: his voice is smooth, almost bored, when Olivia’s discussing spreadsheets, but when she’s alone, his pacing stumbles just slightly, like she’s reading her own thoughts for the first time. The audiobook’s production is mostly flawless, though I’d dock half a star for the occasional overuse of ambient sound—one bar scene’s clinking glasses border on distracting. And while the ending avoids easy catharsis (thank god), the final confrontation with Olivia’s father feels rushed, as if Kane couldn’t quite decide whether to let her burn it all down or walk away. Still, this is one of the few audiobooks where the narration isn’t just a vessel for the text but an active layer of meaning. Arbuckle’s performance makes you *feel* Olivia’s exhaustion, the way her jaw clenches when she says ‘I’m fine’ for the hundredth time. It’s not a comfortable listen, but it’s an essential one—for anyone who’s ever stared at their reflection and wondered whose face they’re actually wearing.