Natural Born Witch

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first. *Another* witchy detective? But *Natural Born Witch* disarmed me within chapters by being something rarer: a thriller that’s genuinely *funny* without undercutting its tension. Wang’s worldbuilding is a masterclass in subversion—imagine if *The Office* were set in a haunted cubicle farm, where the real horror isn’t the ghosts but the *performance metrics* they’re judged by. Charlie’s voice is a delight: a chain-smoking, caffeine-addled mess who’s equal parts Sam Spade and your most jaded coworker. The mystery itself is tightly plotted, with clues hidden in expense reports and demonic possession treated like a hostile takeover. Druyor’s performance elevates the material immeasureably. Her Charlie sounds like she’s two espressos away from a nervous breakdown, which is *exactly* right for a woman who spends her days negotiating with poltergeists and her nights drowning in paperwork. The production is clean, though I’ll dock half a point for a few awkward pauses during dialogue-heavy scenes—it’s subtle, but in a book this snappy, rhythm matters. My only real critique? The ending’s resolution leans *slightly* too hard into corporate satire, risking undermining the earlier stakes. But that’s a quibble. If you’ve ever wanted to hear a witch scream into the void about *synergy* while battling a succubus in the break room, this is your audiobook. Just don’t listen at work—unless you want to quit your job by Chapter 3.