Kollegaen

I’ll admit, I approached *Kollegaen* skeptical of yet another ‘toxic workplace’ thriller, but McFadden’s razor-sharp character work won me over within chapters. The story hinges on an unreliable narrator trope, but it’s executed with such specificity—think less *Gone Girl* grandiosity, more the quiet horror of realizing your cubicle neighbor’s ‘harmless’ quirks are anything but. The pacing is deliberate, almost claustrophobic, as McFadden forces you to sit with the discomfort of office small talk that’s anything but small. My only critique? The mid-section sags slightly under the weight of its own ambiguity; a few too many scenes of passive-aggressive Post-it notes start to feel like wheel-spinning when you’re craving the payoff. Dyssel’s narration, though, elevates every moment. Her ability to pivot from breezy professionalism to something far darker—sometimes mid-sentence—is chilling. I particularly loved how she handles the protagonist’s internal monologues, where the voice drops to a near-whisper, as if she’s confessing to *you* alone. The audio production is clean but not sterile; there’s a faint, almost imperceptible hum in the background during tense scenes, like the fluorescent buzz of an office left empty after hours. It’s a small touch, but it amplifies the unease. If you’ve ever side-eyed a coworker’s ‘friendly’ Slack message, this will burrow under your skin. Just don’t listen on your commute—you’ll start analyzing every colleague’s tone by chapter three.