In the Pines

I’ll admit, I side-eyed the runtime—just over two hours? But *In the Pines* proves brevity can be a scalpel. Shea doesn’t waste a word, and neither does Tyra Kennedy, whose performance is so tightly wound it feels like she’s telling you this story over a dying fire, her voice barely above a growl. There’s a scene where Naomi barters her last decent skirt for a sack of meal, and Kennedy’s delivery—flat, almost bored—somehow makes the humiliation worse than if she’d wept. That’s the magic here: the way small moments *accumulate* into something devastating. That said, the pacing *will* frustrate some listeners. This isn’t a plot-driven audiobook; it’s a mood piece, a slow burn of deprivation and quiet fury. The lack of traditional “scenes” (no dramatic confrontations, no tidy resolutions) might leave fans of historical fiction expecting *Underground Railroad* energy wanting. And while Kennedy’s restraint is brilliant, there are moments—like Naomi’s memories of her mother—where a touch more warmth in her tone could’ve deepened the emotional punch. Still, the audiobook’s rawness is its power. It’s not about catharsis; it’s about the dull, relentless ache of being alive when the world has already moved on. If you’ve ever loved a book that felt like a bruise you couldn’t stop pressing, this is for you.