Little Miss Little Compton

I expected Arden Myrin’s debut memoir to be a breezy listen—something to laugh at while folding laundry—so I was floored when it became the audiobook I binge-listened to on a hike, gasping for breath between chapters. Myrin’s narration is the audiobook equivalent of a comedian hitting their stride: conversational, punchy, and so naturally funny you’ll forget you’re listening to a book. She nails the tonal shifts, whether skewering her parents’ "oops-I-did-it-again" marriage or recounting the time she accidentally became a viral meme at 19. The pacing is relentless, but never rushed—like a set where the jokes land so hard you don’t realize the clock’s ticking. My only critique? The chapter titled “How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the F*ck It Bucket” feels slightly padded, as if she’s milking an already killer bit. Still, that’s nitpicking for a book that somehow manages to be both riotously funny and unexpectedly tender. If you’ve ever laughed through pain, or just love a story where the punchline is survival, this one’s a home run.