Are you someone who has difficulty recognizing your own self-worth, and acknowledging all the great struggles you have faced and how far you have come? “Crossing The Hills” is an exercise that addresses this at the root. Most people spend much more time worrying about what is going wrong, rather than what is going well, and this exercise refocuses the listener into a pathway of positive thinking. Perhaps you have a lot of great ambitions and dreams but struggle to set practical goals and stick to them. There is an exercise for that as well. There is something for everyone in this book. Other problems it seeks to address include: feeling worthwhile and unique, healing from past traumas, reconciling the death of a loved one, and many many more!

The book’s structure takes the listener through eight “psychic elements:” earth, water, air, fire, light, darkness, lunar, and time. Each of these elements represents certain aspects of the individual and collective self in the context of Source: the originator of all life and being in the universe. Some will think of this in terms of God and the Universe. Others will take a more scientific, objective approach. It doesn’t matter. This book is compatible with all religions, faiths, and philosophies whether rooted in a belief in a higher power or not, because all of the work is done within the subconscious, and in its root, it is all pretend!

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The first story, following Poly after his release from prison, ended up being my favourite. It’s the most grounded of the three and the one I connected with most emotionally. Simple time travel with a touch of romance and old-style small-town life. From there, the collection shifts into more traditional science fiction, with a breakthrough scientific discovery drawing dangerous attention before finishing with a post-apocalyptic style tale of survival following what appears to be an alien attack. Each story has its own identity, which kept the collection feeling fresh.

Donald Zing’s writing is approachable and easy to follow. The ideas are interesting without disappearing into dense scientific explanations, although I did find myself wishing some of the bigger concepts around time and consciousness had been explored a little further. At times it felt like the stories introduced fascinating ideas only to move on before fully digging into them.

Where the audiobook didn’t quite land for me was the production. Andrew Zachman’s narration is perfectly listenable, but it has an uneven rhythm, with pauses that feel just a little too deliberate. It reminded me of an early performance where the focus is on reading the words accurately rather than letting them flow naturally.

The bigger distraction was the sound design. Rather than a straightforward narration, the audiobook uses background effects throughout, pushing it closer to an audio drama. Unfortunately, they rarely added much for me, and there were a few moments where the effects became loud enough to compete with the narration instead of supporting it.

Even so, I quite enjoyed the listen. If you’re after an accessible collection of science fiction that explores some interesting ideas without becoming overly technical, there’s plenty here to like. I just came away wishing the production had trusted the stories to stand on their own.

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Layne draws on anthropology, economics and environmental science to argue that our earliest societies have real lessons to teach about sustainability and cooperation. The research is extensive but presented accessibly, so you don’t need a background in any of those fields to follow along.

Where I found myself unconvinced was in the leap to the present. It’s hard to imagine principles that worked for small, relatively self-contained communities scaling to a global population that depends on modern agriculture, medicine, infrastructure and technology. I kept wondering about the gap between where we are and where the book points… and Layne doesn’t really close it.

The title also invites scrutiny. The Only Economies That Never Collapsed is a bold claim, and given how incomplete the archaeological record is, I’m not sure anyone can make it with confidence. Local collapses, resource depletion, environmental damage… I feel these must have happened across a few hundred thousand years even if the evidence has long since vanished.

None of that stopped me getting something from it, though. If a book is making you question assumptions most of us rarely stop to examine, it’s doing useful work. I finished it with more questions than answers, which felt like the right outcome.

Jason Guess does a great job with the narration. This isn’t the easiest material to keep engaging over 20+ hours, but his upbeat, conversational delivery keeps things moving. Production is generally excellent, though there are occasional references to figures and illustrations that obviously don’t exist in audio form. They don’t feel essential, at least I didn’t miss them, but noticeable.

I didn’t finish it convinced by everything. I did finish it thinking, which is probably the more useful result. Something to ponder on as the world seemingly hurtles further away from this starting point at increasing speed.

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As thought experiments go, this one hooked me almost immediately.

Some people refuse to open their box. Others change their lives overnight — leaving jobs, pursuing dreams, spending more time with family. Support groups appear, relationships shift, and before long society is reorganising itself around whether you’re a long-stringer or a short-stringer.

Nikki Erlick doesn’t spend much time explaining why the boxes appeared. She’s more interested in how people respond, and almost every reaction felt believable. Governments take wildly different approaches, businesses look for ways to profit, discrimination takes hold quickly, and fear spreads just as fast as hope. All of it felt uncomfortably plausible.

It makes you think about how knowing your future changes your relationship to it. There are characters who wish they’d never opened the box, but once that certainty exists there’s no putting it back. It reminded me of the idea — quantum theory, or possibly a Futurama episode — that observing something changes the outcome. Whether that’s literally true almost doesn’t matter here. The knowledge itself becomes the thing.

The story raises real philosophical questions without ever becoming heavy going. It’s an easy listen despite the weight of its ideas, and Julia Whelan’s narration suits that balance well — she keeps things moving while giving each character enough personality that their perspective feels distinct.

Ultimately The Measure isn’t really about knowing when you’ll die. It’s about what certainty does to people, to relationships, to society. The book keeps coming back to the idea that living long isn’t the same as living well. I wrote it down immediately. I doubt I’ll restructure my life around it, but some things are worth writing down anyway.

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Earth stands at a crossroads. Divided. Armed. Suspicious of itself. And far closer to extinction than anyone realizes.

An alien diplomat, from an ancient race that has been observing Earth for a millennium, offers Gavin something unprecedented: a starship, knowledge centuries beyond human science, and the chance to unite a fractured world before it tears itself apart.—or attracts someone that will do it for them.

But Earth doesn’t want to be united. Nations guard their sovereignty with iron fists. Ancient faiths see the alien presence as blasphemy, prophecy, or both. Armed militias rise against the very idea of a shared future. And Gavin’s hand-picked crew must somehow cut through centuries of hatred, fear, and pride to prove that humanity is capable of more than it has ever shown.

It’s an up-hill battle—and then the stars deliver a new threat.

An planetoid on a collision course with Earth. Not a natural disaster. Not an accident. An engineered message. Gavin and his crew find themselves racing against extinction while fighting the very people they’re trying to save, forced to ask the hardest question of all:

*Can a divided species rise to meet its greatest hour—or is it already too late?*

The Terran Accord: The Awakening is a sweeping, character-driven science fiction epic about first contact, human stubbornness, and the agonizing hope that we might still deserve the future we’ve been offered.

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This time we follow Wilbur Budd, who boards the mysterious midnight train after his death and is given the chance to revisit the defining moments of his life. It’s almost like listening to a fictional autobiography (side note: is fauxtobiography a word? If not, it should be) unfold, moving from childhood through old age, stopping at the moments that shaped the person he became.

The pace is incredibly gentle. In fact, I’d probably say it borders on slow for much of its running time. That’s not necessarily a criticism of the story itself, because I actually enjoyed spending time with Wilbur, but James Norton’s narration didn’t help. His delivery was at the slow end of what I prefer, and found I needed to bump up the playback a few extra notches before it felt natural.

One thing Matt Haig consistently does well is create characters who feel remarkably human. By the end of the book, Wilbur felt less like someone I’d been introduced to and more like an old friend who I had just spent a whole lot of time with. It’s a type of storytelling that doesn’t rely on huge twists or constant drama. It simply asks you to spend time with someone and reflect on the choices that shaped them.

You don’t need have read The Midnight Library to get into this one (though I highly recommend giving that a listen). Nora Seed makes an appearance to give a small connection and let us know we’re in the same universe. A simple way to make the world feel lived in without becoming distracting.

Like The Midnight Library, this is a story that leaves you thinking long after it finishes. Not necessarily about wishing you’d made different choices, but whether you’d actually know which choices to change if someone gave you the chance. Hindsight makes everything look obvious. Maybe the better lesson is to stop dwelling on the roads already travelled and pay more attention to the one still ahead.

This isn’t a fast-moving story, but it was a warm, thoughtful listen that worked its way under my skin. I can easily see myself returning to it in a few years, just as I’ve revisited The Midnight Library. Sometimes it’s nice to spend a few hours being reminded that an ordinary life can still be an extraordinary story.

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Cole is about as down on himself as a protagonist can be, managing to turn self-criticism into an actual character class. Alongside his friends Leo and Tandy, he drunkenly signs up as an adventurer and is promptly thrown into a trial dungeon to prove they’re worthy of joining the guild. Joining them is Richard, an immortal banana slug whose idea of encouragement mostly involves emotional damage.

The progression side of things is solid enough. Much of the book revolves around the party learning new abilities, losing them again, levelling up, and generally trying to survive long enough to become competent adventurers. If you enjoy the slower early-game grind common to LitRPGs, there is plenty of that here.

For me though, the characters never really clicked. Richard’s constant snark felt more mean-spirited than funny, and much of the group’s success seemed to come from luck rather than clever decisions. By the time the story reached its conclusion, I realised I wasn’t especially invested in whether they succeeded or not.

The narration was a mixed bag. Jeremy Frazier captures Cole’s anxious, self-doubting personality well, though I found the delivery a little whiny early on before settling into it. Jessica Threet provides a second perspective, but a few of the character voices didn’t quite land for me. There were also some inconsistent pronunciations between narrators, a handful of obvious retakes left in, and a few minor production noises that pulled me out of the story.

Overall, there are some interesting ideas here, and I can see why the characters might resonate with listeners who enjoy flawed, anxious protagonists finding their confidence. It just never quite found its footing for me, and by the end I wasn’t left with enough curiosity to continue the series.

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These Quick Takes slice each listen down to the essentials and whether I’d press play again, all in under 100 words. Read fast, judge faster, and pick the one that promises the exact level of chaos or calm you need right now.

Here are the quick takes.

Caput Mundi

A solid middle grade fantasy with a really interesting central idea of a magical metal – enarii. It starts a little gently, but once it settles into its world it becomes an easy, engaging listen. The pacing works well for younger readers, the mysteries are simple but effective, and there is just enough emotional weight underneath to keep it from feeling too light. The narration leans soft and calming, which fits the tone nicely, even if it occasionally risks sending you off to sleep a bit earlier than planned. Read the Review

The Son of Lubrerum

A strong continuation of the Firefax saga, blending historical fiction, family drama, and plenty of assassin-fuelled action. The historical detail remains impressive, and the Firefax family dynamics are every bit as engaging as the larger conflicts around them. The large cast can be a little challenging to track at times, but the excellent narration from Vas Eli helps keep everything moving smoothly. Read the Review

The Beach

Still a strong concept, a hidden beach in Thailand that slowly unravels into something less idyllic. It plays better now as a cautionary “paradise with strings attached” than pure escapism. Narration-wise, the Michael Page version works far better than the Alfie Allen one, which never quite fit the tone for me.
Read the Review

Cleave the Sparrow

Cleave the Sparrow is one of the strangest audiobooks I’ve listened to in a while. Political satire, philosophy, religion, quantum mechanics, and existential musings all collide in a story that often feels like a hallucinatory fever dream. I definitely didn’t understand all of it, but I never stopped being curious. Confusing, ambitious, occasionally absurd, and probably worth a second listen if you want to untangle what just happened. Read the Review

The Dragon’s Banker

Come for the dragon, stay for the accounting. An interesting fantasy built around economics, trade, and business strategy, though I found it drier than expected and would have loved a stronger narrator. The bonus novella, Forego Quest, was a fun extra. Read the Review

Last Save Dave

A really fun start to a LitRPG series with a likeable underdog hero, clever save-point mechanics, and an excellent narration from Garrett Michael Brown. The ending feels more like the end of an opening act than a complete story, but I enjoyed the characters enough that I’ll happily keep following Dave’s adventures through the remaining worlds. Read the Review

That Lesbian Vampire Pirate Story

Losing an ear in a bar fight is apparently the first step towards becoming a vampire pirate. A fun short story that expands the Blood & Ancient Scrolls world, with great historical flavour, plenty of personality, and a confident narration that suits Sadie perfectly. Read the Review

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Last Save Dave follows a middle-aged plumber who is abducted by a minor deity and entered into an intergalactic competition where the winning champion saves their world and everyone else gets vaporised. Armed with a hefty pipe wrench and the ability to create save points and reload them after death, Dave quickly discovers that dying is going to be a fairly regular occurrence.

And he dies a lot.

The save-and-reload mechanic is the heart of the book and one of the things I enjoyed most, even if at this early stage it is a bit of cheat mechanic. It’s tempered in that he has limited uses, but it feels like he is never in any real danger. Every resurrection costs a talisman, so Dave is constantly balancing the temptation to spend resources on levelling up against keeping enough in reserve in case things go horribly wrong. Which they frequently do.

The setup has some obvious Mario inspiration running through it. A plumber to save the day, though instead of uppercuts and Goomba stampings, he’s swinging a wrench around. He’s got various powerups, multiple lives, and even a sort of plumber’s crack Spidey Sense that warns Dave when danger is nearby.

A lot of this first book is spent building foundations. Dave gradually learns how the competition works, gets to grips with his abilities, and starts assembling a team of fellow champions. Lyra, a cat-person competitor who will eventually become a rival, and Reggie, a lovable dog-person who immediately gets on her nerves, and a few others from different worlds.

That slower progression worked for me, though it does create the book’s biggest weakness. While there is a climactic battle towards the end, the story never quite feels finished. It feels more like the point where the author decided to stop rather than the natural end of a complete arc. Given the competition spans a thousand worlds on a gigantic world tree, there is clearly a lot more story still to come.

On the audiobook side, Garrett Michael Brown was an excellent choice. I enjoyed his work in Interstellar Gunrunner, and he was a perfect fit here as well. His slightly rough, working-class delivery suits Dave perfectly and helps sell the character from the very beginning. I noticed the occasional minor background noise during the recording, but nothing significant enough to distract from the performance.

Overall, this was a genuinely fun listen and a strong start to what looks like a very promising series. The ending felt a little undercooked, but the characters are easy to like, the save-point mechanics are interesting, and I finished the book wanting to jump straight into the next one. That is usually a good sign. I suspect this one will end up in my relisten rotation more than once.

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Having enjoyed the main Blood & Ancient Scrolls books and other short stories in the world, I was more than happy to jump into another.

That Lesbian Vampire Pirate Story follows Sadie “The Goat” Ferrell, a New York cutpurse whose life takes an unexpected turn after a bar fight leaves her missing an ear. Most people would probably take that as a sign to stay home for a while. For Sadie, it’s the kick in the pants she needed to become a pirate. Before long Sadie has taken charge of a local gang, acquired a ship, and started making a living the traditional pirate way by taking other people’s stuff.

I loved the whole atmosphere of this one. Belasco does a great job bringing 1860s New York to life. I found myself wishing we still insulted each other with half as much creativity as some of the old street slang the gangs used to sling around.

There are pirate battles, criminal gangs, vampires (of course), and a touch of spiciness, though less than the title may imply. It works both as a standalone adventure and as an introduction to characters who will appear later in the series. A clever way of going about it without it feeling like a lore dump or exposition.

The narration from Carmen Seantel and Hel was a good fit for Sadie’s confident, self-assured personality. Different voices from the main series, but ones that suited the material nicely.

Overall, this was a fun little detour into the world of the am’r. Short, entertaining, and packed with pirate action, vampire intrigue, and plenty of personality. It adds some nice background to the wider series without needing to have listened to the previous books before jumping in.

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Picking up right aftrer from the events of the first, the colonies appearing close to victory before events take a sharp turn. As the war reignites, Vergara balances large-scale historical events with the smaller, more personal struggles of the Firefax family. Plenty of action throughout (they are a family of assassins after all), and the family dynamics were just as an engaging part of the novel, giving it that well-rounded and well-crafted feeling as the first.

One of the standout features, like in the first book, is the amount of historical detail woven into the narrative. Vergara clearly has a strong interest in the period, and the book is packed with references to eighteenth-century politics, military campaigns, treaties, languages, and historical figures. Despite the alternate twists introduced by the Firefaxes’ involvement, the setting still feels rooted in its era.

The action scenes are well written and easy to follow, and the descriptions throughout the book do a great job of bringing both the characters and locations to life. Vergara has an almost lyrical, very lush tone at times that adds so much depth. Even during quieter moments, it was easy to picture the world Vergara has created.

The only challenge I had was keeping track of the cast. There are a lot of characters, alliances, and shifting loyalties at play, and I occasionally found myself checking my notes to remember who was who. Whether that’s a result of the story’s ambitious scope or simply my brain at the time of listen, I’m not entirely sure, but it’s something worth mentioning. I generally keep copious notes while listening so have lots to help keep me on track.

Vas Eli once again delivers a strong narration, helping distinguish a large cast of characters and keeping the story moving at a good pace. His smooth, easy to voice makes for an easy listen, with no production issues or mistakes that I noticed.

Overall, The Son of Lubrerum is an entertaining blend of historical fiction, family drama, and action. It expands the world established in Firefax while continuing the story of one of the more intriguing families I’ve come across in historical fiction. With one book left in the trilogy, I’m interested to see how Vergara brings the Firefax saga to a close.

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