Flashlight

I finished *Flashlight* with the same unsettled feeling I get after watching a psychological thriller where the real villain was the unreliable narrator all along. Eunice Wong’s performance is nothing short of masterful—her Louisa isn’t just a woman unraveling; she’s a woman *performing* her unraveling, and Wong nails the oscillation between brittle wit and raw devastation. The production quality is immaculate, too; the subtle ambient sounds of ocean waves and rustling pages ground the story in a way that makes the psychological disorientation feel tactile. That said, I’ll admit I wanted more payoff in the latter half. Choi’s penchant for ambiguity borders on frustrating when the emotional stakes feel so high, and by the time Louisa’s father’s fate is (partially) revealed, I was left craving a sharper emotional catharsis. Still, this is a minor quibble for a story that lingers like a bruise. If you’re a fan of *Trust Exercise*—or if you’ve ever wondered how much of your childhood was a lie—this audiobook will haunt you long after the flashlight goes dark. The narration alone makes it worth the listen, but the story? That’s the kind of fiction that changes how you see your own memories.