Swimming with Fishes

I’ll admit: I side-eyed the ‘dreaming of fishes’ premise at first. But within 20 minutes, Yasmin Mwanza’s narration had me fully invested—not just in the slow-burn romance, but in the *world*. Her delivery of the protagonist’s dry humor (think eye-rolls you can *hear*) contrasts perfectly with the richer, melodic cadence she uses for the older women in the story, like Mother Cynthy. It’s a masterclass in vocal acting, though I’ll dock half a point for a few moments where the Patois phrases felt slightly over-enunciated, as if she were translating for an audience rather than inhabiting the character. The story itself is a study in restraint. Malcolm resists the urge to manufacture drama, letting tension build naturally through glances, silences, and the protagonist’s sharp observations about class and expectation in her community. The pacing in the middle act drags just a touch—there’s a subplot involving a family business that could’ve been tightened—but the payoff is worth it. The sex scenes (yes, there are a few) are refreshingly grounded, more about emotional vulnerability than acrobatics. And that ending? It doesn’t just resolve the romance; it redefines what ‘happily’ can mean when home and love are in conflict. If you’ve ever rolled your eyes at a romance where the stakes feel artificially inflated, this one’s for you. Just don’t start it unless you’ve got time to spare—you won’t want to pause.