Your Little Lies

I’ll admit: I rolled my eyes at first. *Another* wife-in-peril story? But *Your Little Lies* disarmed me by refusing to play by the usual rules. Fortin’s protagonist isn’t a wide-eyed naïf—she’s sharp, observant, and *that’s* what makes her gaslighting so chilling. The audiobook’s strength is in its restraint. Imogen Church’s performance is masterclass-level; she delivers Jasper’s lines with just enough honeyed menace to make your skin crawl, while the protagonist’s internal monologue crackles with repressed fury. The pacing, though, is a double-edged knife. The first third drags deliberately, mirroring the protagonist’s creeping dread, but I’ll warn you: if you’re here for breakneck twists, you might fidget. The real tension lives in the silences—Church’s paused breaths, the way Fortin lets a revelation land *after* a chapter ends, forcing you to sit with it. My two critiques? The mid-book lull tests patience, and one late-game reveal strains credulity (even for a thriller). But the payoff—a finale that’s more emotionally brutal than neatly tied—sticks with you. The sound design deserves a shoutout, too: no overdone stings, just the occasional ambient hum of a fridge or a neighbor’s muffled argument, reminding you this horror is *domestic*. If you loved *The Girl on the Train*’s unreliable narrator but wished it had more bite, this is your next listen. Just don’t start it before bed.