Trials of the Nekomancer

I’ll admit, I approached *Trials of the Nekomancer* skeptical—another ‘chosen one’ in another tower? But within 30 minutes, Walt Allen’s narration had me hooked, specifically his ability to make a simple line like *“The cat stared at me. I stared back. We both knew I’d lost”* feel like a Shakespearean tragedy. The real star here is the *cats*, each voiced with such distinct personality that you’ll start favoring them over the human cast (Rustle, the void-touched troublemaker, is my chaotic little demon). The story’s pacing is a rollercoaster: early chapters establish the rules of the Tower with brisk efficiency, but once the feline antics ramp up, the plot occasionally stumbles under the weight of its own jokes. A mid-book arc where the protagonist tries to ‘train’ his familiars drags slightly—less because it’s bad, more because you’re itching for the next absurd set piece (like the heist involving a sentient, *very* judgmental mop). Allen’s performance sells even the weaker moments, though. His range is impressive—equally adept at growling out a demon’s threat and squeaking a kitten’s indignant yowl—but the real magic is in how he handles the *silences*. A beat after a punchline, a sigh before a catastrophic spell failure—it’s these micro-decisions that make the humor land. My only real critique? The sound design is minimalist to a fault. In a story this visually bonkers (imagine a dungeon floor that’s basically a giant scratching post), a *little* more atmospheric audio—subtle echoes, the *thunk* of a cat knocking over a potion—would’ve elevated it from great to *immersive*. Still, by the final act, when the Tower’s lore starts weaving into the cat-centric chaos, I was fully invested. It’s rare for a book to make me snort-laugh *and* care about its worldbuilding, but *Nekomancer* pulls it off. Just maybe don’t listen while driving—you *will* laugh at the wrong moment.