Voice Like a Hyacinth

I’ll admit, I went into *Voice Like a Hyacinth* expecting something closer to *The Secret History* meets *Hereditary*—and while Pearson delivers on the eerie academia-meets-occult vibes, the book’s real strength (and occasional frustration) lies in its refusal to play by genre rules. The first half is a masterclass in creeping dread: the way the women’s ambitions twist into obsession, the way their ritual feels both absurd and inevitable. Fixx’s narration sells this perfectly; she makes even the most banal dialogue (a text about brunch plans, a passive-aggressive email) hum with undercurrents of something *off*. Her performance during the ritual scenes is particularly chilling—less a recitation than an incantation, her voice dropping into a register that feels like it’s vibrating in your bones. That said, the pacing stumbles in the second act. Pearson spends so long marinating in atmosphere that the plot’s momentum occasionally stalls, and the supernatural rules feel deliberately vague to the point of confusion. (At one point, I paused to ask, *Wait, is this magic or metaphor?*—and I’m still not sure.) The ending, too, will polarize listeners: it’s bold, thematically rich, but frustratingly ambiguous for those craving catharsis. Still, the audiobook’s production elevates the material—subtle sound design (a distant chant, a door creaking shut) makes the uncanny moments land harder. If you’re here for a tidy thriller, look elsewhere. But if you want a story that burrows under your skin and leaves you questioning the cost of your own desires? Press play, turn off the lights, and let Fixx’s voice pull you under.