This Is How It Always Is

Listening to Gabra Zackman narrate this novel is like being let into the family’s kitchen after everyone else has gone to bed. Her voice carries the quiet fatigue of a parent who’s always on, yet she inflects warmth and dry wit at just the right moments. She doesn’t perform—she embodies. The decision to narrate in a restrained, almost conversational tone mirrors the book’s resistance to overstatement, making the emotional crescendos hit harder. The pacing is deliberate, occasionally bordering on slow, especially in middle sections that dwell on logistical details of relocation. While that realism serves the story, it occasionally dulls momentum. One note: the audiobook’s handling of the children’s voices sometimes flattens their distinctness—Roo’s younger cadence blends too easily with the older brothers’. Still, the production quality is crisp, and the chapter breaks feel perfectly timed. What lingers isn’t the plot, but the cumulative weight of small choices—the way a parent hesitates before saying a name, the silence after a difficult question. This isn’t just an audiobook for LGBTQ+ audiences or parents; it’s for anyone who’s ever loved someone enough to uproot their life.