Strange Flowers

I was halfway through this audiobook before I realized I’d stopped breathing. Nikolaisen’s narration is so immersive that her pauses feel like physical spaces in the room—spaces where your own thoughts start to intrude. She doesn’t dramatize Moll’s disappearance or her reappearance; she lets the silences do the work, and it’s terrifying. The production is seamless, with no distracting background noise, which only heightens the intimacy. That said, the pacing can feel glacial at times, especially in the first act. Ryan’s prose is deliberate to a fault, and while I admire the restraint, there were moments when I craved a bit more forward momentum. Still, the payoff is worth it. The moment Moll’s unnamed companion speaks for the first time is one of the most chilling audiobook moments I’ve experienced in years. My only other critique? The ending, while thematically perfect, felt just a hair too abrupt—like a door left ajar when you expect it to close. But these are minor quibbles. *Strange Flowers* is a novel that lingers long after the credits roll, and Nikolaisen’s performance ensures it haunts you. If you’ve ever wondered how to listen to a story that’s as much about what isn’t said as what is, this is your audiobook.