Review: Fear the Past

 Fear the Past by J.M. Dalgliesh is a gripping addition to the Dark Yorkshire series, delivering a layered and emotionally resonant crime story that lingers well beyond its final chapter. Dalgliesh continues to demonstrate his strength in crafting intricate mysteries rooted in atmosphere and character, and this instalment is no exception.

At the heart of the novel Detective Inspector Caslin who commands particular attention here. The mystery itself is deftly constructed, unfolding through a web of past secrets, present dangers, and carefully placed revelations. Dalgliesh excels at showing how history refuses to stay buried, and the case develops with a steady, compelling momentum. The interconnectedness with earlier books in the series adds meaningful depth; long-running character arcs and subtle callbacks reward returning readers without alienating newcomers. The broader narrative tapestry feels deliberate and cohesive, reinforcing the sense that every event reverberates beyond a single investigation.

The audiobook narration by Greg Patmore elevates the experience even further. Patmore’s portrayal of DI Caslin is particularly striking. His delivery is measured, controlled, and almost laconic, perfectly capturing Caslin’s analytical mind and understated authority. Rather than overdramatizing key moments, Patmore allows tension to simmer, which makes the emotional beats land with greater authenticity. His character distinctions are clear without being theatrical, and his pacing mirrors the procedural intensity of the investigation. The result is an immersive listening experience that feels both intimate and cinematic.

Overall, Fear the Past is a strong and satisfying entry in the series; thoughtful in its plotting, rich in character development, and enhanced significantly by Patmore’s nuanced narration. It stands as a testament to Dalgliesh’s skill in blending procedural precision with emotional depth.

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Review: Desperate Measures

 

Convergence: Desperate Measures as an audiobook is a familiar, comfortable listen for fans of Craig Alanson, even if it doesn’t push the overall story forward as much as some might hope. The standout, once again, is the narration by R.C. Bray. Bray’s performance is polished, energetic, and full of personality; he nails the comedic timing, differentiates characters clearly, and injects just enough attitude and warmth to keep the listening experience engaging even during slower stretches.

Alanson’s trademark humour is very much on display. The banter, dry observations, and absurd situations land well in audio form, often earning genuine laughs thanks to Bray’s delivery. That said, the story itself can feel like it’s treading water at times. There’s a noticeable sense that events are being stretched out, with plot developments that circle rather than surge ahead. Because of this, the book often feels like a side-quest—entertaining and thematically consistent, but not essential to the main narrative arc.

Still, “side-quest” doesn’t mean “bad.” The characters remain fun to spend time with, the world-building continues to charm, and the pacing is smooth enough to make it an easy, enjoyable listen. Overall, Desperate Measures is a broadly positive audiobook experience, elevated significantly by excellent narration, even if it feels more like a detour than a major step forward.

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Review: Twelve Months

 

Twelve Months on Audible feels like a necessary pause and a gift. Jim Butcher steps back from apocalyptic momentum to let Harry Dresden breathe—and grieve—and that choice lands especially well in audio. James Marsters continues to be the gold standard for the series. His performance has matured alongside Dresden, and here he brings a quieter, more fragile register without ever losing the bite or humor that defines the character.

In the wake of Murphy’s death, you can hear the weight Dresden carries in every line. Marsters doesn’t oversell the pain; he lets silences, hesitations, and softened sarcasm do the work. As the months pass, that grief slowly reshapes into resolve, and the narration tracks that recovery with impressive emotional precision. It feels earned, not rushed.

Structurally, Twelve Months widens the lens. Rather than one central crisis, we get a mosaic of relationships, obligations, and consequences. It’s a deep breath before the plunge, a chance to take stock of where everyone stands before the endgame accelerates. That broader scope could feel unwieldy, but Butcher handles the ensemble cast with confidence. Familiar voices and new faces each get distinct moments, and Marsters differentiates them cleanly, making even crowded scenes easy to follow.

The result is an audiobook that’s reflective without being slow, intimate without being small. Twelve Months reminds you why this series matters.

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