Unwell

I started *Unwell* expecting another wrenching tale of maternal sacrifice, but what unfolded was something far sharper: a woman unraveling the myth of motherhood from the inside out. Lori J. Moran’s narration is the kind of performance that lingers—her voice is the auditory equivalent of a half-empty wine glass, resonant and slightly unsteady, perfectly capturing the protagonist’s oscillation between conviction and doubt. The letters to the unborn child are the heart of this audiobook, and Chow’s writing shines in their intimacy. There’s a scene where the narrator describes preparing for an abortion where the clinical detachment of the setting clashes with the raw honesty of her inner monologue; Moran sells it by letting the incongruity hang in the air, unsparing. My only gripe? The ending felt abrupt, like Chow pulled the rug out just as the emotional stakes were highest. Still, the audiobook’s production is top-notch—crisp audio quality and subtle sound design (the hum of a refrigerator in one scene, the creak of a door in another) root the story in a tactile reality that makes the detachment feel intentional, not lazy. If you’re looking for a book that asks questions instead of providing answers, *Unwell* delivers. It’s not an easy listen, but it’s a necessary one.