Poison Wood

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first. *Another* Southern gothic thriller? But *Poison Wood* clawed its way under my skin faster than a chigger in July. Moorhead’s prose is razor-sharp, especially when she’s dissecting the grotesque dance of power between her characters—a husband who treats his wife like a prized thoroughbred, a sister-in-law with the moral compass of a gator, and a town where ‘discretion’ is just a polite word for complicity. The plot hinges on a real estate deal gone toxic (literally), and while the environmental angle risks feeling preachy, Moorhead ties it so tightly to her characters’ greed that it becomes another layer of suffocating tension. Now, the narration: Sophie Amoss is *phenomenal*, but her performance isn’t without quirks. Her male voices occasionally veer into caricature (one secondary character sounds like a cross between a used-car salesman and Foghorn Leghorn), and the pacing in the first act drags just enough to make you check the time remaining. But when she sinks into the female leads—particularly the icy, calculating matriarch—it’s masterclass stuff. The audio production is similarly polished, though I’d dock half a star for a few oddly placed sound effects (a sudden cicada chirp nearly gave me whiplash in Chapter 12). Still, the payoff is worth it. The final act delivers a twist that’s less about shock and more about inevitable, sickening revelation. You’ll finish this one feeling like you need a shower—and not just because of the swamp metaphor.