Presence

I’ll admit: I rolled my eyes when Lister opened with a story about her ‘womb space’—until her voice cracked describing the cultural gaslighting that taught her to distrust it. That moment hooked me. Her narration is the audiobook’s secret weapon: uneven in the best way, like she’s deciding in real time how much to reveal. When she describes her grandmother’s deathbed wisdom, her pacing slows to a hush; when she’s dismantling patriarchal BS, her words clip like a metronome set to *fury*. The production leans into this rawness—no slick studio polish, just the occasional ambient hum that makes it feel like you’re eavesdropping on a private ceremony. The rituals are where *Presence* shines or stumbles, depending on your tolerance for woo-meets-work. Tracking your menstrual cycle as a ‘power map’? Revelatory if you’ve ever felt betrayed by your body. The ‘mirror mantra’ exercise? Confrontational to the point of discomfort—I actually turned it off the first time, then returned to it three days later because it *worked*. My main critique: the latter half rushes through some heavy themes (trauma, ancestral healing) in ways that feel uneven. A few more minutes of silence or guided reflection would’ve helped. And while Lister’s emphasis on the feminine is refreshing, non-binary or trans listeners might bristle at the binary framing of ‘womb wisdom.’ Still, this is a rare audiobook that doesn’t just *tell* you to inhabit your body—it *forces* you to, with a mix of tenderness and tough love that lingers long after the last track.