Hotel Milano

I’ll admit, I approached *Hotel Milano* skeptical of yet another ‘lockdown novel,’ but Parks sidesteps cliché by making the pandemic a backdrop, not the point. The real story is the protagonist’s prickly, often hilarious resistance to human decency—whether it’s the hotel concierge’s overzealous friendliness or his own daughter’s pleas for emotional honesty. Parks writes dialogue like a playwright, and Baker’s narration sells every awkward pause and deflected compliment. His voice is the audiobook equivalent of a raised eyebrow: amused, exhausted, and just judgmental enough to make you squirm. That said, the pacing stumbles in the middle, when the protagonist’s introspection tips into repetition. We *get* it—he’s terrible at vulnerability—but the circular ruminations on his failed marriage and writing career start to feel like stalling. And while Baker’s Italian accents are impressive, his female voices occasionally veer into caricature, a minor but jarring misstep in an otherwise polished performance. Still, the final act lands with a quiet punch, leaving you with the unsettling question: *How much of this man’s isolation is self-inflicted?* For fans of acerbic, character-driven fiction—think Richard Yates with a European twist—this is a standout. Just don’t expect catharsis; expect recognition, the kind that makes you wince.