Un animale selvaggio

I’ll admit, I was skeptical when I started listening to *Un animale selvaggio*. Dicker’s earlier work has been polarizing—some love his meticulous style, others find it overly clinical—and I wasn’t sure this heist-gone-wrong story would rise above the formula. But Buglioni’s narration sold me within the first hour. His voice has a rare richness, effortlessly shifting between the clipped, upper-class tones of Geneva’s elite and the frayed desperation of men backed into corners. It’s the kind of performance that makes you forget you’re listening to an audiobook; you’re just eavesdropping on a tragedy unfolding in real time. That said, the story isn’t without flaws. The first act drags slightly as Dicker meticulously lays out the heist plan, and I found myself wishing he’d pick up the pace sooner. The dialogue, while sharp, sometimes borders on the stagey—lines that sound great on the page but can feel a bit too polished when read aloud. But these are minor quibbles. The real strength of *Un animale selvaggio* is in its second half, where the story detaches from the heist and spirals into something darker, more personal. The shift in focus from the robbery to the aftermath is where Dicker shines, and Buglioni’s performance makes it sting all the more. The production is clean and immersive, with just enough ambient detail to ground you in Geneva’s streets without ever distracting from the narrative. If you’re a fan of psychological thrillers that reward close attention, this is one to queue up—but be warned: it’s the kind of story that lingers long after the final chapter.