The Chosen

I’ll admit, I approached *The Chosen* skeptical of yet another ‘three kingdoms’ fantasy, but Kramer’s execution won me over by refusing to play it safe. The pacing is deliberate—almost brutal—in the first act, lingering on the mundane horrors of war (a soldier stitching his own wound, a spy swallowing her scream during torture) in ways that make the later bursts of action hit harder. The magic system, tied to sacrificial ‘choosing,’ is one of the more inventive I’ve encountered this year, but it’s the *cost* that stays with you. One scene—a mother bargaining her child’s future for a single battle’s edge—left me paused mid-commute, stomach knotted. Kevin Clay’s performance is stellar, though not without quirks. His gravelly baritone suits the weary warriors, but his female voices occasionally slip into caricature, especially in the kingdom of Veyth, where the aristocratic accents veer close to parody. The production design, however, is flawless: the audio engineers use silence like a weapon, letting the aftermath of battles breathe in eerie quiet. My biggest critique? The middle act sags under the weight of its own grimness—there’s a 90-minute stretch where hope feels like a rumor, and even the darkest stories need *some* light to make the shadows visible. Still, the finale’s convergence of plotlines, delivered with Clay’s growing urgency, makes the slog worth it. This isn’t a fantasy for escapism; it’s for listeners who want their hope *earned*.