The Monk

I’ll admit, I approached *The Monk* expecting a dusty relic—something to admire from a distance, like a crumbling cathedral. Instead, Nigel Carrington’s narration dragged me into the confessional and bolted the door. His performance is a masterclass in tonal control: when Ambrosio preaches, Carrington’s voice drips with unctuous charm; when the monk’s mask slips, that same voice turns jagged, almost feral. The audiobook’s pacing is deliberate, mirroring the novel’s structure—long stretches of gothic atmosphere (Lewis *loves* a moody abbey description) give way to sudden, sickening violence. The infamous ‘bleeding nun’ sequence is a standout; Carrington’s hushed, horrified delivery makes it feel like a campfire story gone horribly wrong. That said, this isn’t a flawless listen. Lewis’s subplots (particularly Matilda’s backstory) meander, and Carrington’s commitment to *every* character voice—even the minor ones—can occasionally veer into theatrical overload. A few scenes also suffer from the novel’s age; what was shocking in 1796 (incest, necrophilia, live burials) now risks feeling like gothic checkboxes. Yet the audiobook’s strength lies in how Carrington sells the *unreliability* of it all—Ambrosio’s self-justifications sound almost reasonable in his mouth, which makes his fall that much more chilling. The production is clean, with no distracting edits, though I’d have loved a touch more dynamic range in the quieter moments. For fans of *Dracula* or *Frankenstein* looking for something darker and more psychologically twisted, this is your next obsession. Just don’t blame me if you start side-eyeing your local clergy.