Swords Against Wizardry

I’ll admit, I approached *Swords Against Wizardry* skeptical that a 1960s sword-and-sorcery tale could hold up against today’s sprawling epics. Five minutes in, Davis’s narration—all gravel and grin—had me hooked. His Fafhrd is a lumbering, lovable oaf, while the Gray Mouser’s voice drips with the kind of smugness that makes you *want* to see him get punched (repeatedly). Leiber’s writing is the star, though: economical yet rich, with descriptions that sketch a world in a handful of words (a “wine-stained map,” a “god with the patience of a loan shark”). The standout story, *The Sadness of the Executioner*, is a dark gem—part heist, part existential crisis—as the duo tangles with a melancholic headsman who’s *too good* at his job. That said, this isn’t a flawless listen. The pacing stumbles in *Beauty and the Beasts*, where a surreal, dream-logic detour feels more like Leiber indulging a weird whim than advancing the plot. And while Davis’s performance is stellar, his female voices occasionally veer into cartoonish territory (the witch Sheelba’s cackle borders on Looney Tunes). Still, the audiobook’s strengths dwarf its quirks. The production is crisp, with subtle audio cues—like the *clink* of coin purses or the howl of northern winds—that immerse without distracting. And Gaiman’s intro isn’t just fan service; it’s a love letter to Leiber’s legacy, arguing these stories are the DNA of every smart-mouthed antihero from *Game of Thrones* to *The Witcher*. If you’ve ever rolled your eyes at fantasy’s self-seriousness, this is the palate cleanser you need.