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Hello fellow wanderers and story-seekers, Marcus Rivera here. As someone who’s spent countless hours listening to audiobooks while traversing deserts and mountains, I’ve come to appreciate how a narrator’s voice can transform a journey – both literal and literary. Today, I want to share my thoughts on an audiobook that stayed with me long after the final chapter: Lisey’s Story by Stephen King, narrated by the incomparable Mare Winningham.

There’s a particular magic to listening to a Stephen King novel in audio form – the way the prose wraps around you like campfire smoke, the characters whispering their secrets directly into your ears. Lisey’s Story, perhaps King’s most personal novel, benefits immensely from this intimate format. It’s a story that demands to be heard, not just read, and Mare Winningham’s performance is nothing short of transcendent.

I first encountered this audiobook during a long drive through the Arizona desert, the red rocks standing sentinel as Winningham’s voice painted pictures of Boo’ya Moon in my mind. Much like the grandmother who told stories in that Oaxacan courtyard I remember so fondly, Winningham understands the power of silence, the weight of a well-placed pause. Her narration isn’t just reading – it’s an act of conjuring.

The story itself is a masterclass in exploring the private languages of love and the geography of grief. As a travel writer, I’m fascinated by how King creates Boo’ya Moon as both a physical and emotional landscape – a place that exists between memory and imagination, much like the stories we tell ourselves about the places we’ve been. Lisey’s journey to understand her late husband Scott’s creative process resonated deeply with me, reminding me of the notebooks I’ve kept through my own travels, the way certain places get under your skin and won’t let go.

Winningham’s portrayal of Lisey is remarkable in its nuance. She captures the character’s strength and vulnerability in equal measure, her voice shifting effortlessly between present-day resolve and the tender memories of her marriage. The way she handles the ‘smucking’ language – that private couple’s lexicon – makes it feel lived-in and authentic, not a literary device but a real secret language overheard through thin walls.

King’s exploration of creativity – its costs and its necessities – hits particularly hard in audio form. There were moments when I had to pull over just to sit with what I’d heard, much like I did years ago with One Hundred Years of Solitude in the Atacama. The sections dealing with Scott’s childhood trauma are harrowing, but Winningham navigates them with such care that you never feel manipulated, only witnessed.

If I have any criticism, it’s that some of King’s characteristic digressions feel more pronounced in audio form. There were moments when the story’s pacing lagged, though Winningham’s performance kept me engaged even during these slower sections. The horror elements, while present, take a backseat to the psychological and emotional depth – this isn’t the Stephen King of killer clowns, but of quiet, creeping dread and hard-won healing.

For listeners who enjoy audiobooks that feel like shared confidences, that create entire worlds through voice alone, Lisey’s Story is a remarkable experience. It’s particularly suited for long journeys – whether you’re crossing physical landscapes or emotional ones. The themes of artistic creation, marital intimacy, and personal demons will resonate with anyone who’s ever loved a complicated person, which is to say, all of us.

As I sign off from this review, I’m reminded of something that grandmother in Oaxaca used to say: ‘The best stories leave footprints on your heart.’ Lisey’s Story, in Mare Winningham’s capable hands, does exactly that. Until next time, may your travels – through pages or through places – be filled with such unforgettable encounters. Buen camino, friends.
Marcus Rivera