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- Title: Murder of Crows
- Author: Ian Skewis
- Narrator: Ian Skewis
- Length: 11:09:00
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 25/10/2018
- Publisher: Whole Story QUEST
- Genre: Mystery, Thriller & Horror, Suspense
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
The rain was pounding against my windshield as I drove the winding roads of the Scottish Highlands last fall, the kind of storm that makes you feel the world might just crack open. It reminds me of a time when I was holed up in a stone cottage on the coast of Galicia, listening to the waves crash as a local fisherman spun tales of lost souls at sea. That same raw, elemental energy courses through “Murder of Crows”, an audiobook written and narrated by Ian Skewis. From the first rumble of thunder in the opening scene, you can almost feel the damp chill of that sleepy West Coast village sinking into your bones. This isn’t just a mystery – it’s a sensory plunge into a world where nature and human darkness collide.
The story unfolds like a slow hike through fog-drenched woods. A young couple vanishes during a violent thunderstorm, and DCI Jack Russell, a weathered detective on the cusp of retirement, steps in to unravel the mystery. What starts as a routine case twists into something far more sinister – a trail left by a psychopath who’s only warming up. Skewis has a knack for building atmosphere, layering the tension with the relentless patter of rain and the creak of branches. It’s the kind of suspense that keeps you glancing over your shoulder, even when you’re safe in your own car or kitchen.
For me, this audiobook hit a personal chord. Years ago, I was driving through Chile’s Atacama Desert, the driest place on Earth, listening to “One Hundred Years of Solitude”. The narrator’s voice wove García Márquez’s magical realism into the surreal, endless dunes outside my window, turning a solitary drive into something transcendent. With “Murder of Crows”, Skewis does something similar but in reverse – he takes the lush, brooding landscape of Scotland and uses his voice to pull you into its depths. There’s an intimacy to his narration, a roughness that feels like he’s sitting across from you, recounting the tale over a pint in a dim pub. It’s not polished or theatrical, but that’s its strength – it’s real, unfiltered, like the stories I heard from that grandmother in Oaxaca, her voice pausing just long enough to let the weight of each word settle.
The themes here are classic thriller fare: isolation, the fragility of safety, the lurking unknown. But Skewis digs deeper, rooting them in the Scottish landscape and the psyche of Jack Russell, a man who’s seen too much yet can’t look away. There’s a quiet empathy in how he’s written, a nod to those of us who’ve wandered too far into our own shadows and come back changed. The psychopath’s presence, though, is where the story truly grips you – it’s less about the ‘who’ and more about the ‘why,’ a puzzle that unfolds with every clue Jack uncovers.
Now, let’s talk about Skewis as narrator. His voice is gravelly, weathered – like the cliffs of his setting – and it suits the story perfectly. You can hear the Scottish burr in his cadence, a subtle authenticity that grounds the listening experience. He’s not a trained actor, and there are moments where the pacing stumbles or the character voices blur, but honestly, that rawness works in his favor. It’s like he’s telling you this story because he “has” to, not because he’s performing. The audio quality is crisp, with the storm effects adding a visceral layer – raindrops practically splash against your ears. At just over 11 hours, it’s a commitment, but the immersion makes it worth every minute.
That said, it’s not flawless. The plot occasionally meanders, like a river losing its current, especially in the middle stretch where Jack’s investigation feels repetitive. And while Skewis’s narration is authentic, it lacks the dynamic range of a seasoned voice actor – some emotional beats don’t land as hard as they could. For a thriller, I wanted a few more jolts, those heart-pounding moments that make you grip the steering wheel tighter. Still, the strengths outweigh these hiccups: the atmosphere, the humanity of Jack, and that haunting sense of place.
If you’ve listened to “The Dry” by Jane Harper, you’ll find a kindred spirit here – both weave landscape and crime into something almost alive. But where Harper’s Australian outback scorches, Skewis’s Scotland drenches, and his DIY narration adds a personal stamp Harper’s didn’t have. It’s a slower burn, more introspective, perfect for fans of Tana French or anyone who loves their mysteries steeped in mood over mayhem.
This audiobook experience is for the patient listener, the one who savors a story like a slow-cooked meal. If you’re into fast-paced whodunits, you might find it too leisurely – but if you’re like me, someone who loves the hidden histories and human connections behind a tale, it’s a gem. And here’s the kicker: you can snag it as a free audiobook through certain platforms like Audiobooks.com if you time it right with a trial. That’s a steal for a journey this rich.
Reflecting on it now, “Murder of Crows” feels like those evenings in Oaxaca, sitting with that grandmother as her voice painted pictures in the dark. It’s not just a mystery – it’s a reminder of how stories, told right, can pull you somewhere else entirely. I’ll carry Jack Russell’s quiet resolve and that storm-soaked village with me for a while, like a memory from a road I’ve yet to travel.
Until our next adventure, amigos,
Marcus Rivera
