First Church of Mars

I went into First Church of Mars expecting another dry self-help tract, but McFarland’s writing hooked me immediately with its understated rawness. The father-son dynamic isn’t some overwrought tragedy; it’s a quiet unraveling, the kind where every missed call and half-hearted conversation feels like a microcosm of modern disconnection. McDevitt’s narration is a masterclass in restraint—his voice never strains for effect, yet the pauses between McFarland’s sentences feel deliberate, like the echo of a habitat on an empty planet. That said, the book’s brevity works against it in spots. A deeper dive into the “First Church of Mars” concept—what does it actually entail?—would’ve added depth, but McFarland trusts the reader to fill in the blanks. The production is crisp, but I wish the background ambiance (that Martian wind?) had been subtly layered in—something to ground the listener in that alien solitude. Still, by the time McFarland circles back to the Curiosity rover’s photos, I was sold. This isn’t a book to fix your life; it’s one to remind you to look at it differently.