It is a rare book that becomes infinitely better because of its narrator — but The Correspondent is exactly that rare case. I have abandoned more audiobooks than I can count because a flat or uninspired narrator made them impossible to endure. But Maggi-Meg Reed is a revelation.
Her performance is not simply narration — it is embodiment. She made me cry — truly ugly cry — during my daily commute, during my nightly ablutions, while washing dishes and folding laundry. Through her voice, I was transported to Sybil’s writing desk. I found myself wishing, almost desperately, that Sybil would pen a missive to me.
This story so beautifully illustrates the lost art of letter writing that I felt compelled to pull out thick, elegant stationery and reconnect with people I have not written to in far too long. And that, I believe, is precisely the point: connection. Real, deliberate, thoughtful connection.
What a wonderful and inventive way to portray a life — intimate without being heavy-handed, clever without falling into trope. It could have become cliché in less capable hands, but it never does.
READ THIS BOOK.
Listen to it. Sit with it. Let it linger.
It will stay with you long after the final lines are spoken.