Oreo

I’ll admit: *Oreo* took me by surprise. I’d heard the hype—‘cult classic,’ ‘ahead of its time’—but nothing prepared me for how *funny* this book is. Fran Ross writes like a jazz musician riffing on race, religion, and the absurdity of American mythmaking, and Robin Miles leans into every pun, every digression, with the precision of a comedian timing a punchline. There’s a scene early on where Oreo’s grandfather, a rabbi-turned-gangster, schools her in the ‘art of cursing’ that had me rewinding just to savor Miles’ delivery. The audiobook’s pacing mirrors Oreo’s restless energy: breakneck when it needs to be, then suddenly pausing for a surreal, almost poetic detour (like the chapter written entirely in footnotes). That said, this isn’t an easy listen—nor should it be. Ross’s wordplay is so dense that I occasionally found myself zoning out during the more esoteric riffs (a five-minute Yiddish-etymology tangent tested even my patience). And while Miles’ performance is stellar, the production occasionally suffers from uneven audio levels, with some of Oreo’s internal monologues getting lost under the ambient score. But these are quibbles. *Oreo* is the kind of book that makes you feel smarter for having stuck with it, a rare blend of highbrow satire and lowbrow humor that somehow anticipates everything from *The Boondocks* to *Everything Everywhere All at Once*. If you love audiobooks that challenge you to *listen* actively—not just passively consume—this is your next obsession.