The Antiquarian

I’ll admit, I approached *The Antiquarian* skeptical of yet another ‘detective in a historic setting’ trope, but Hoste’s novel won me over with its *unapologetic* nerdiness. This isn’t a story that dangles history as window dressing—it *demands* you engage with it. When Barton deciphers Merton’s notes on a 14th-century bishop’s ledger, the audiobook pauses just long enough for Fox to deliver the Latin phrases with the weight of a revelation. That’s the kind of detail that elevates this from a competent whodunit to something memorably immersive. Fox’s narration is the secret weapon here. His Barton isn’t the gruff, whiskey-voiced cliché; he’s a man whose exhaustion is audible in the way he sighs before interrogating a suspect, whose curiosity perks up when flipping through a crumbling codex. The supporting cast gets equal care—particularly the cathedral’s archivist, whose clipped, academic cadence Fox nails without slipping into caricature. My only gripe? The middle act sags slightly under the weight of its own lore. Hoste’s deep dive into Exeter’s ecclesiastical politics is fascinating, but the pacing stumbles when the mystery takes a backseat to historical exposition. And while Fox’s delivery is mostly flawless, his female voices occasionally veer into overly breathy territory, a minor but noticeable misstep. Still, the payoff is worth it. The final act ties the historical and contemporary threads together with a twist that’s both intellectually satisfying and emotionally brutal. If you’re a fan of authors like C.J. Sansom or *The Name of the Rose*’s cerebral puzzles, this will scratch that itch—just be prepared to *listen closely*. The devil, as ever, is in the details.