La veterinaria [The Veterinarian]

When I first pressed play, Nuria Samsó’s voice wrapped around me like a familiar coat—warm, expressive, and instantly believable. She differentiates the two protagonists with subtle shifts: one’s tone is softer, laced with a hint of rural optimism; the other carries a sharper, more pragmatic edge that mirrors her urban training. Those nuances helped me keep track of their parallel journeys, especially during the dense sections where Lark delves into surgical procedures. I appreciated how Samsó never let the technical jargon become a barrier; instead, she paced each explanation with a calm confidence that made even the most complex operations feel accessible. The story itself is a masterclass in interweaving personal drama with historical upheaval. Lark doesn’t shy away from the brutal realities of the World Wars, yet she balances the darkness with moments of genuine tenderness—like the scene where the friends share a lullaby while stitching a newborn lamb. The pacing is mostly spot‑on, though the middle chapter that details a long train journey felt a tad sluggish, dragging the momentum down for a few minutes. Production-wise, the occasional background ambience—farm animal sounds or distant artillery—adds depth without distracting from the narration. Overall, this audiobook is a richly textured listening experience that rewards patience and offers a heartfelt tribute to women who heal both animals and souls.