The Drowning at Dyes Inlet

I’ll admit, I went into *The Drowning at Dyes Inlet* expecting another by-the-numbers coastal noir, but Black’s novel caught me off guard with its emotional rawness. The plot unfolds like a fisherman’s knot—tight, deliberate, and impossible to unravel until the very end. The story centers on a drowning that may or may not be murder, but the real current pulling you under is the toxic dynamic between the victim’s husband and her best friend. Black excels at writing relationships that feel lived-in, messy, and painfully human. The pacing in the first act drags just a touch—there’s a lot of mood-setting before the plot hooks sink in—but once the lies start unspooling, it’s impossible to pause. Joe Hempel’s performance is a masterclass in less-is-more narration. He doesn’t do voices or dramatic flourishes; instead, he trusts the material, delivering lines with a weary authenticity that sells the exhaustion of these characters. His reading of the protagonist’s internal monologues is particularly effective—you can hear the self-loathing beneath the surface. My one critique? The production could’ve used tighter editing in a few spots where background noise bleeds through, but it’s a minor quibble. What lingers isn’t the whodunit (though the reveal is satisfying), but the haunting question of how well we ever really know the people we love—or ourselves. If you like your mysteries with more psychological depth than car chases, this one’s for you.