My Dear Henry: A Jekyll & Hyde Remix

I went into *My Dear Henry* expecting a clever but familiar gothic retelling, and left absolutely floored by how deeply Bayron recontextualizes Stevenson’s classic. This isn’t a simple gender-swap or queering of themes—it’s a complete emotional and narrative reinvention that feels urgent and personal. Gabriel’s grief over Henry’s disappearance isn’t just a plot device; it’s a raw, visceral wound that Bayron lets fester with painful authenticity. The slow reveal of Henry’s transformation is masterfully paced, and the way Bayron ties the story’s gothic dread to queer longing (and betrayal) is genius. My only quibble? The third act leans a bit heavy on exposition, which occasionally trips the tension. Still, by the final chapter, I was clutching my headphones like Gabriel clutches his memories of Henry. Clifford Samuel is the reason this audiobook works so well. His voice is the auditory equivalent of a warm blanket in the first act, then morphs into something unsettlingly seductive as Henry’s darker nature emerges. I lost count of how many times I replayed his delivery of Henry’s line, *‘You always did have a way of making me feel seen,’*—it’s delivered with such aching tenderness it physically hurts. The production is crisp, with no distracting background noise, and the occasional sound effects (a creaking floorboard here, a distant church bell there) are used sparingly but effectively. If you’re a fan of gothic stories with heart, or just love audiobooks where the narration *feels* like a living, breathing entity, this is a must-listen. Just brace yourself for the emotional gut-punch at the end.