Tallarn

I’ll be honest: I went into *Tallarn* expecting another bombastic space opera, but what I got was something far rawer. French’s writing hinges on the *sensory* experience of war—the acrid stench of promethium, the way sand turns to glass under orbital bombardment, the way a soldier’s hands shake when they realize they’re the last one left. The audiobook amplifies this with a sound design that’s subtle but devastating: the *crack* of a vox-caster cutting out mid-transmission, the wet *thunk* of a shovel hitting a corpse in the trenches. It’s not just heard; it’s *felt*. The narration split works brilliantly—Keeble’s performance as the Imperial commanders is all frayed nerves and exhausted defiance, while Wickham’s turn as the traitor officers drips with cold amusement, like a predator toying with prey. My only critique? The pacing stumbles in the middle during a protracted tactical sequence that drags when the emotional stakes aren’t as sharp. And while the ending lands with a gut-punch, I wished we’d spent more time with the civilian perspectives (the few we get are *heartbreaking*). But these are quibbles. *Tallarn* is a standout because it dares to ask: What does it mean to fight for a cause when the planet beneath you is already dead?