Hase und ich

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes when I first saw the premise—a woman adopts a wild rabbit, *how cute*—but *Hase und ich* gutted me in the best way. Ulrike Kapfer’s narration is the secret weapon here. She doesn’t just *read* Dalton’s words; she *embodies* the push-pull of their relationship. When Dalton describes the hare’s first tentative nibble from her hand, Kapfer’s voice drops to a whisper, so intimate it feels like eavesdropping. But she’s just as adept at delivering the book’s sharper edges, like when Dalton skewers the German bureaucracy that labels her hare an ‘invasive species’ while ignoring the actual ecological damage humans inflict. The production is clean, but not *too* polished—there’s a lived-in quality to the audio, like listening to a story told in a sunlit kitchen, not a sterile studio. That said, the audiobook isn’t without its stumbles. The middle act drags slightly when Dalton dives into the hare’s dietary preferences (yes, we get it, rabbits love dandelions), and Kapfer’s pacing occasionally feels *too* leisurely during these sections. I also wished for more contrast in her character voices—when quoting neighbors or officials, the shifts are subtle to the point of confusion. But these are quibbles. The real magic lies in how the audiobook makes the mundane profound: the sound of a hare’s teeth grinding in contentment, the way Dalton’s voice (via Kapfer) cracks when she describes the moment she realizes the hare will never be *hers*. It’s a story about possession and freedom, and by the end, you’ll question every assumption you’ve ever made about both.