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- Title: Before We Were Yours: A Novel
- Author: Lisa Wingate
- Narrator: Catherine Taber, Emily Rankin
- Length: 14:29:00
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 06/06/2017
- Publisher: Random House (Audio)
- Genre: Fiction & Literature, Historical Fiction, Literary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Fiction & Literature, Historical Fiction, Literary Fiction, Contemporary Women
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
Hola, amigos—fellow wanderers and story lovers alike,
Picture this: I’m winding down a dusty road along the Mississippi River, the kind of stretch where the air hums with cicadas and the water glints like a memory you can’t quite place. My trusty rental truck rattles along, and through the speakers flows *Before We Were Yours: A Novel* by Lisa Wingate, narrated by Catherine Taber and Emily Rankin. It’s an audiobook experience that feels less like a story and more like a journey—one that unfurls like a river cutting through time, carrying you from the muddy banks of 1930s Memphis to the polished streets of present-day Aiken, South Carolina. As a travel writer who’s spent years chasing hidden histories and human connections, this tale hit me square in the chest, stirring up echoes of my own road-worn memories.
From the first chapter, Wingate’s narrative hooked me with its raw, poignant premise—based on the real-life scandal of Georgia Tann and the Tennessee Children’s Home Society, where children were stolen from poor families and sold to the wealthy. It’s the kind of history that makes your skin prickle, a reminder of the shadows lurking beneath the American Dream. The story splits into two threads: twelve-year-old Rill Foss, a river rat yanked from her shantyboat home in 1939, and Avery Stafford, a modern-day Southern belle wrestling with her family’s past. The dual timelines weave together like a well-worn braid, each strand tugging at the other until the full picture emerges.
It reminds me of a time when I was camped out in Oaxaca, listening to a grandmother spin tales of her village’s lost children—stories of resilience passed down through cracked voices and flickering firelight. That same intimacy courses through this audiobook. Rill’s world is visceral: you can almost taste the damp rot of the orphanage, hear the creak of the shantyboat against the current. Wingate’s prose, paired with the narrators’ performances, paints a sensory landscape so vivid I felt like I was there, barefoot on the deck, watching the river slip by. Meanwhile, Avery’s chapters brought me back to my own brushes with privilege—those moments sipping mezcal with wealthy expats, wondering what secrets their manicured lives concealed.
The audiobook unfolds like a road trip with no map—sometimes bumpy, always compelling. Wingate digs into themes of family, identity, and the lengths we go to protect what’s ours. Rill’s fight to keep her siblings together is pure gut-punch storytelling, a testament to the primal bonds that outlast cruelty. Avery’s journey, quieter but no less gripping, peels back layers of inherited privilege and buried truths. It’s historical fiction with a literary soul, wrapped in the warm, complex folds of contemporary women’s narratives. And yet, it’s not just a story—it’s a reckoning with a past we’d rather forget, a reminder that the heart never loses its way home.
Now, let’s talk about the voices bringing this to life. Catherine Taber and Emily Rankin are a duo worth celebrating. Taber’s take on Rill is all rough edges and tender defiance—you can hear the river in her cadence, the grit of a girl who’s seen too much too soon. Rankin, voicing Avery, balances Southern charm with a slow-burning curiosity, her tone shifting as Avery unravels her family’s history. Together, they’re like two sides of a coin, flipping effortlessly between past and present. The audio quality is pristine, every whisper and pause landing just right, making this a listening experience that pulls you in and doesn’t let go. At just over 14 hours, it’s a commitment—but one that feels like a long, soulful conversation with an old friend.
That said, it’s not flawless. The pacing stumbles at times, especially in Avery’s early chapters, where the setup drags like a humid afternoon. I found myself itching to get back to Rill’s raw urgency. And while the narrators shine, there were moments—particularly in the quieter scenes—where I craved a bit more emotional heft, a deeper dive into the silences that Wingate’s words leave hanging. Still, these are small quibbles in a story that hits so many high notes.
If I were to toss this into the literary stew, I’d say it sits somewhere between *The Orphan Train* by Christina Baker Kline and *Where the Crawdads Sing* by Delia Owens. Like Kline, Wingate excavates a forgotten slice of history with heart-wrenching precision; like Owens, she builds an atmosphere you can sink into. But *Before We Were Yours* stands on its own, especially in audio form, where the narrators elevate it into something unforgettable.
Who’s this for? If you’re a fan of historical fiction that doesn’t pull punches, or if you love literary fiction with a strong female pulse, this audiobook’s your ticket. It’s perfect for long drives—like that stretch I took through Chile’s Atacama Desert, when *One Hundred Years of Solitude* turned a barren landscape into a living myth. If you’re new to audiobooks, this is a stellar entry point— immersive, emotional, and free if you snag it through the right service (a little gift for us wanderers on a budget).
Reflecting on it now, *Before We Were Yours* feels personal. It’s the kind of story that sticks with you, like the taste of roadside tamales or the sound of a stranger’s laughter in a foreign tongue. It’s made me think about the families I’ve met on my travels—the ones whose histories are written in calloused hands and quiet resilience. Wingate, Taber, and Rankin have crafted an audiobook experience that’s more than entertainment; it’s a bridge between worlds, a call to remember the voices that time tries to erase.
So, grab your headphones, hit play, and let the river carry you. You won’t regret it.
Until the next story finds us, amigos—happy trails and happy listening, Marcus Rivera