The Practitioner

Pope’s performance is a masterclass in contrast—she doesn’t just read Johnnie’s dialogue; she *acts* it, delivering barbs with the precision of a stand-up comic and tender moments with the fragility of a pulled thread. I’ve heard narrators miss the mark with queer-coded protagonists, but Pope sidesteps cliché entirely, grounding Johnnie’s queer identity in the way she moves through the world: not as a label, but as an undercurrent of defiance and belonging. The pacing is relentless, too, mirroring Johnnie’s own frenetic energy—no down time, no easy outs. That said, the middle act drags a bit when Johnnie’s art takes center stage; the descriptions of her creative process, while poetic, occasionally stall the momentum like a car hitting a pothole. Minor quibble aside, this audiobook nails what so many queer narratives miss: a protagonist who’s messy, proud, and *alive* in all the right ways. Pope’s chemistry with the secondary characters—especially the sharp-tongued gallery owner who becomes an unlikely mentor—feels electric, like eavesdropping on a conversation you weren’t supposed to hear. By the final chapter, I was emotionally wrecked but oddly hopeful, which is the highest compliment I can give a book that promises no easy answers. If you’re craving a story about survival that doesn’t sugarcoat the cost, this is your next binge.