Fever

I’ll admit, I went into *Fever* expecting something closer to a viral outbreak thriller, but what I got was far more interesting—and unsettling. Hoh’s writing excels in making the mundane terrifying: the sterile smell of antiseptic, the way a nurse’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, the way Duffy’s own memories seem to shift like sand. The audiobook format *works* here because O’Bryant’s performance sells the protagonist’s spiraling doubt. She doesn’t overact; instead, she lets the silence between lines fester, making you lean in closer, waiting for the next revelation (or delusion). That said, the pacing isn’t for everyone. The first hour is *slow*, deliberately so, but listeners craving immediate scares might tap out early. And while the ambiguity of Duffy’s reality is the point, the ending lands with a whimper rather than a scream—more existential sigh than cathartic release. Still, the production quality is flawless: no distracting edits, no uneven volume, just a seamless descent into madness. If you’ve ever lain in a hospital bed at 3 a.m. and wondered *what if they’re lying to me?*, this audiobook will burrow under your skin. Just don’t listen right before a doctor’s appointment.