Audiobook Sample
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- Title: Paris Apartment
- Author: Michelle Gable
- Narrator: Erin Moon, Saskia Maarleveld
- Length: 16:04:00
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 22/04/2014
- Publisher: Recorded Books
- Genre: Fiction & Literature, Contemporary Women, Fiction & Literature, Contemporary Women
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
It reminds me of a time when I was wandering the cobblestone streets of Lisbon, a city that whispers its history through every cracked tile and faded façade. I’d slipped into a tiny livraria, escaping the drizzle, and found myself listening to an audiobook that pulled me into another world. That’s the same magic I felt when I pressed play on “The Paris Apartment” by Michelle Gable, narrated by the talented duo of Erin Moon and Saskia Maarleveld. This audiobook experience isn’t just a story – it’s a portal, a dusty key to a locked door in Paris’s ninth arrondissement, and I couldn’t wait to turn it.
From the first chapter, Gable’s debut novel unfolds like a treasure map, leading us into the cluttered, shuttered apartment of a woman whose life was as opulent as it was mysterious. April Vogt, a Sotheby’s furniture specialist, arrives in Paris seeking escape from her unraveling life back in the States. What she finds beneath the cobwebs isn’t just gilt-edged furniture or a Belle Époque portrait – it’s a story, layered with secrets, that mirrors her own search for meaning. You can almost feel the stale perfumed air, hear the creak of floorboards, taste the dust of a life left untouched for seventy years. Gable’s prose is rich and colorful, a tapestry of historical fiction and contemporary women’s struggles that feels both intimate and expansive.
For me, this audiobook hit close to home. Years ago, I stayed with a family in Oaxaca, where their abuela spun tales each evening under a flickering lantern. Her voice had this cadence – pauses pregnant with meaning, a rhythm that made you lean in. Erin Moon and Saskia Maarleveld bring that same oral storytelling mastery to “The Paris Apartment”. Moon’s narration carries April’s introspective unraveling with a warmth that’s almost tactile, while Maarleveld lends a crisp, evocative edge to the historical voices echoing from diaries and letters. Together, they create a listening experience that’s as vivid as a memory and as immersive as a late-night conversation over mezcal. The audio quality is pristine – every rustle of paper, every shift in tone, pulls you deeper into the apartment’s shadows.
The story itself is a dance between two lives: April’s modern-day quest for clarity and the enigmatic past of the apartment’s former occupant, a courtesan whose legacy is more than her reputation suggests. Gable weaves themes of identity, reinvention, and the weight of untold stories with a deft hand. It’s a contemporary women’s fiction piece that doesn’t shy away from the messiness of self-discovery, and it’s grounded in a historical fiction backbone that’s meticulously researched yet never feels academic. I found myself nodding along as April digs into the past, her fingers brushing against letters that feel like they could’ve been written by someone I’ve met on my own travels – maybe that grandmother in Oaxaca, or the street poet I once heard in Buenos Aires.
The narrators elevate this dual narrative beautifully. Moon’s performance captures April’s vulnerability and determination, her voice trembling just enough to hint at the stakes. Maarleveld, meanwhile, breathes life into the historical fragments, her delivery sharp yet soulful, making the courtesan’s world feel urgent and alive. The interplay between their voices mirrors the story’s structure – two timelines converging like tributaries into a single, rushing river. It’s a technical feat, too; the production balances their distinct tones without ever letting one overshadow the other, a testament to Recorded Books’ craftsmanship.
But no journey is without its stumbles. At times, Gable’s pacing lags, especially in the middle stretches where April’s personal dramas – troubles back home that bubble over – feel less compelling than the apartment’s mysteries. The stakes of her Stateside life, while relatable, pale next to the allure of Belle Époque Paris, and I occasionally found myself itching to skip back to the historical thread. The audiobook’s 16-hour runtime (or thereabouts, at 0.669 days) can feel indulgent, and a tighter edit might’ve sharpened the emotional punch. Still, the narrators keep you tethered – Moon’s empathy and Maarleveld’s gravitas carry even the slower moments with grace.
This isn’t “The Paris Wife” or “Moulin Rouge”, though it nods to both. It’s more akin to “The Nightingale” by Kristin Hannah – another audiobook I devoured while crossing the Atacama Desert, where the surreal landscape matched the story’s haunting depth. Like Hannah, Gable excavates the past to illuminate the present, though her focus on furniture and art gives “The Paris Apartment” a unique texture. If you’ve enjoyed that layered storytelling or the atmospheric pull of “The Signature of All Things” by Elizabeth Gilbert, this audiobook will feel like a familiar friend.
For potential listeners, I’d say this is perfect for anyone who loves a story that unfolds like a slow-cooked meal – rich, complex, and worth savoring. It’s a fiction and literature gem that bridges contemporary women’s fiction with historical intrigue, ideal for long drives or quiet evenings with a glass of vinho tinto. And here’s the best part: you can find this audiobook free through certain platforms (check Audiobooks.com for starters). That’s a gift – a chance to step into Paris without spending a dime.
Listening to “The Paris Apartment” reminded me why I love audiobooks. They’re not just books; they’re companions. This one took me back to those desert roads in Chile, where “One Hundred Years of Solitude” painted magic across the dunes. Gable, Moon, and Maarleveld have crafted something similar here – a journey through hidden lives that lingers long after the last word fades. It’s not perfect, but it’s personal, and that’s what matters.
Until the next story calls us, amigos – vaya con las palabras,
Marcus Rivera
