Monsieur Pain

I’ll admit: *Monsieur Pain* is the kind of audiobook that divides listeners. On one hand, Walter Krochmal’s narration is a masterclass in restraint. His voice—deep, slightly gravelly, with a hint of a Mid-Atlantic accent—gives the protagonist’s ramblings a weight they might not have on the page. When Pain muses about the nature of pain (yes, the pun is intentional) or gets lost in a labyrinth of Parisian alleys, Krochmal’s delivery makes it feel like you’re eavesdropping on a man unraveling in real time. The production is clean, with no distracting background noise, which is crucial for a story this introspective. Bolaño’s prose demands attention, and Krochmal ensures you give it. That said, this isn’t an easy listen. The pacing is deliberate to the point of stagnation at times, and Bolaño’s love of digression can feel indulgent. There’s a 20-minute stretch where Pain wanders through a hospital that tests even the most patient listener—Krochmal’s narration can’t fully salvage the meandering. And while the surreal tone is compelling, the lack of a traditional payoff might frustrate those expecting a tidy resolution. Still, there’s something hypnotic about the experience, like being half-asleep in a train station while strange conversations swirl around you. If you’re a Bolaño devotee or love audiobooks that prioritize mood over plot, this is a gem. But if you need forward momentum, you might find yourself fast-forwarding through Pain’s more self-absorbed monologues.