Skylark

I approached *Skylark* expecting another sweeping historical epic, but what I got was something far more intimate: a story that lingers in the mind like the scent of old parchment and candle wax. Alexa Davalos’s narration of Lucie’s chapters is electric—she captures the protagonist’s defiance and vulnerability in ways that make her feel like a real woman, not a figurehead of feminist historical fiction. Michiel Huisman, meanwhile, brings a smoldering intensity to the doctor’s role, making his moral dilemmas feel urgent and personal. The production team deserves credit too; the sound design subtly enhances the Parisian atmosphere without overpowering the dialogue. That said, the novel’s middle act drags in places, with McLain’s research occasionally weighing down the narrative like a too-heavy corset. And while the plague subplot is compelling, it sometimes feels tangential to Lucie’s arc, as if two great stories are vying for dominance. Still, these are minor quibbles in what is otherwise a rich, transporting listen. If you love historical fiction that prioritizes character over spectacle, *Skylark* will haunt you long after the final chapter.