Morte d’Arthur

I came to *Morte d’Arthur* expecting something dry and academic, but Denis Daly’s narration transformed it into a visceral experience. His delivery isn’t performative; it’s immersive, like sitting across from a fireside storyteller who’s been drinking too much mead and talking about ghosts. The pacing is deliberate to the point of being deliberate—there’s no rush, no musical score to distract from Tennyson’s words. For 21 minutes, you’re trapped in the moment of Arthur’s last breath, and it’s quietly devastating. My only gripe? The abrupt ending. One minute you’re in the thick of it, the next—silence. It’s jarring, like a record scratching mid-verse. Also, be warned: if you’re allergic to archaic language, this won’t be your cup of tea. But for those who love the sound of old poetry spoken aloud, Daly’s rendition is a masterclass in restraint and respect for the text. It’s the kind of audiobook that lingers long after the credits roll, which, in this case, is all of 21 minutes.