Farilane

I’ll be honest: I went into *Farilane* expecting another solid Sullivan epic, but what I got was something far more ambitious—and occasionally *unsettling*. The story follows a disgraced scholar uncovering a forbidden history, but the real hook is how the narration *itself* becomes part of the mystery. Tim Gerard Reynolds is in top form here, his voice shifting seamlessly from weary cynicism to white-hot rage, but the real masterstroke is the Sullivans’ interjections. Hearing Michael and Robin chime in as "themselves," dropping cryptic hints or debating the story’s direction, creates this delicious tension—are they guiding you, or manipulating you? It’s a narrative trick that could feel gimmicky, but it’s executed with such precision that it deepens the immersion. That said, the pacing *does* stumble in the middle. Sullivan packs in a *lot* of lore, and while it’s all fascinating, there are moments where the meta-commentary slows the momentum. A tighter edit on some of the philosophical asides about storytelling might’ve kept the tension from sagging. And while Reynolds’ performance is stellar, the occasional abrupt shift between his narration and the Sullivans’ segments can be jarring—though, frankly, that might be intentional, given the book’s themes. Still, when the pieces click (and they *do*), it’s magic: a fantasy that’s as much about the *power* of stories as it is about the story itself. If you love audiobooks that mess with your head in the best way—think *The Name of the Wind* meets *House of Leaves* lite—this is a must-listen. Just don’t expect to walk away unchanged.