Race to the Bottom of the Sea

About This Audiobook

*Race to the Bottom of the Sea* isn’t just another pirate adventure—it’s a briny, brass-geared duel between a preteen engineering prodigy and a morally ambiguous buccaneer, all unfolding in a submerged world where Victorian ingenuity clashes with cutthroat survival. Fidelia Quail’s voice crackles with precocious wit (think a younger, saltier Ada Lovelace), and the story’s real hook isn’t the treasure hunt but the prickly, evolving dynamic between her and the pirate Merrick the Monstrous. Sarah Coomes’ narration leans into this tension, delivering Fidelia’s sharp retorts with dry humor and Merrick’s growled threats with a gravelly charm that makes his redemption arc feel earned, not saccharine.

What sets this apart in the crowded steampunk field is its unapologetic focus on *process*—Eagar lingers on Fidelia’s tinkering mishaps and underwater mechanics, grounding the fantasy in tactile detail. The audiobook’s production mirrors this precision: ambient creaks of the submarine and the hiss of steam valves aren’t just window dressing but narrative cues that pull listeners deeper into the abyss. It’s a rare middle-grade listen that trusts its audience to relish complexity, blending high-stakes action with a slow-burn character study. Ideal for listeners who crave adventure with *substance*—and a heroine who’d rather debate thermodynamics than swoon over a rogue."

"review": "I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first when Fidelia Quail—all of eleven years old—started lecturing a seasoned pirate about ‘structural integrity’ in the first chapter. But within 30 minutes, Sarah Coomes’ performance sold me on the audacity. She nails Fidelia’s mix of childlike exasperation and genius-level confidence, her voice tightening with frustration when adults dismiss her, then loosening into triumph when her contraptions (mostly) work. Coomes’ Merrick is even better: a raspy, world-weary foil who sounds like he’s two seconds from snapping—but the way his tone softens during Fidelia’s rants hints at the thawing heart beneath the bluster.

The story’s pacing is its biggest gamble. Eagar devotes entire chapters to Fidelia’s trial-and-error engineering, which will thrill budding inventors but may test listeners expecting nonstop swashbuckling. (The midbook lull during the submarine repairs drags, though Coomes’ playful impersonations of Fidelia’s parrot, *Beatrice*, help.) Where the audiobook *shines* is in its sound design: the *clang* of wrenches, the *groan* of strained metal, and the eerie silence of the deep ocean aren’t just atmospheric—they’re *narrative*. When the submarine’s hull breaches, the sudden rush of water in the audio is so visceral I actually flinched. My only real critique? The ending wraps up a touch too neatly for a story that otherwise embraces moral gray areas. But for fans of plucky heroines, grumpy mentors, and *actual* science in their fiction, this is a deep dive worth taking—just bring your patience for the technical deep cuts."

"tags": [
"steampunk adventure with female protagonist