Audiobook Sample
Listen to the sample to experience the story.
Please wait while we verify your browser...
- Title: Where the Crawdads Sing: Reese’s Book Club (A Novel)
- Author: Delia Owens
- Narrator: Cassandra Campbell
- Length: 12:13:39
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 14/08/2018
- Publisher: Penguin Audio
- Genre: Fiction & Literature, Literary Fiction, Coming of Age, Contemporary Women
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
Picture this: I’m winding my way along the coastal roads of North Carolina, the salt air thick in my lungs, when I press play on *Where the Crawdads Sing: Reese’s Book Club (A Novel)* by Delia Owens, narrated by Cassandra Campbell. The audiobook experience unfolds like a slow river cutting through the marshlands—mysterious, wild, and brimming with secrets. As a travel writer who’s spent years chasing hidden histories and human connections, this story hit me like a wave crashing over a long-forgotten shore. It’s more than a novel; it’s a journey into the heart of nature and the soul of a girl who refuses to be tamed.
I first stumbled into Kya Clark’s world—the so-called Marsh Girl of Barkley Cove—while I was on a road trip, much like the time I drove through Chile’s Atacama Desert with *One Hundred Years of Solitude* keeping me company. Back then, the narrator’s voice wove magic into the surreal dunes outside my window. With *Where the Crawdads Sing*, it’s Cassandra Campbell’s rich, empathetic tones that pull me into the marsh. Her narration feels like sitting around a campfire with a wise friend—someone who knows how to pause just long enough to let the weight of a moment sink in. It reminds me of those evenings in Oaxaca, where a grandmother’s storytelling turned the air electric with anticipation. Campbell’s pacing is a masterclass in oral tradition, making every rustle of the reeds and cry of the gulls vivid enough to taste the brackish water on my tongue.
The story itself is a tapestry of solitude and resilience. Kya, abandoned by her family and left to fend for herself in the wilds of the North Carolina coast, becomes a mirror for anyone who’s ever felt like an outsider. You can almost feel the damp earth under her bare feet as she learns survival from the marsh—her only teacher, her only kin. Owens, a zoologist turned storyteller, paints the natural world with such reverence that it’s as much a character as Kya herself. The way the tides shift and the herons soar weave into a coming-of-age tale that’s both tender and fierce. It’s a love letter to the wild places we carry inside us, those untamed corners shaped by the children we once were.
But then there’s the twist—the death of Chase Andrews, the golden boy of Barkley Cove, and the whispers that point to Kya. The story pivots into a mystery that keeps you guessing, much like the hidden trails I’ve followed through foreign lands. Owens doesn’t just hand you answers; she lets you peel back the layers, revealing the violent secrets nature—and people—keep close. It’s heartbreaking and thrilling all at once, a reminder that beauty and brutality often share the same roots.
Campbell’s narration elevates this audiobook experience to something extraordinary. Her voice shifts effortlessly—soft and curious for young Kya, hardened yet vulnerable as she grows, and subtly menacing for the townsfolk who judge her from afar. You can hear the ache in her longing for connection when two boys, Tate and Chase, step into her life, each offering a different kind of love. The audio quality is pristine, every nuance crisp, making it easy to lose yourself in the 12-hour runtime. It’s not free, mind you—$22.50 on Penguin Audio—but if you snag a trial on a platform like Audiobooks.com, you might just get this gem of a listening experience for free.
What struck me deepest, though, was how Kya’s story echoed my own wanderings. I’ve sat with families in far-flung villages, listened to their tales of survival, and felt that same yearning for belonging she carries. There’s a moment when Kya watches the gulls and thinks, *‘I am hunger, I am thirst,’* and it took me back to a night in Portugal, staring at the Atlantic, wondering what home even means when you’re always moving. Owens captures that restless, searching spirit, and Campbell’s delivery makes it feel like she’s whispering it just to you.
That said, the book isn’t flawless. The murder mystery, while gripping, occasionally leans on coincidence in a way that feels too tidy for such a raw story. And some of the townsfolk veer into caricature—cruel voices that lack the depth Kya’s given. But these are small ripples in an otherwise vast, shimmering lake. The strengths far outweigh the flaws: the lush literary fiction, the coming-of-age arc that tugs at your heart, and the way it speaks to contemporary women carving their own paths.
If you’ve loved works like *Educated* by Tara Westover or *The Secret Life of Bees* by Sue Monk Kidd, this’ll feel like a kindred spirit—stories of women rising from the margins, wrapped in vivid settings. But *Where the Crawdads Sing* stands apart with its blend of nature’s poetry and a whodunit edge, all heightened by Campbell’s stellar performance.
I’d recommend this audiobook to anyone who craves an immersive listening experience—travelers, dreamers, or anyone who’s ever found solace in the wild. It’s perfect for a long drive or a quiet night when you want to escape into a world that’s both foreign and achingly familiar. Just be warned: once you start, you won’t want it to end. Reese Witherspoon was right about that.
Reflecting on it now, this story lingers like the scent of salt marsh on your skin after a coastal hike. It’s a reminder of how the places we come from—and the stories we tell about them—shape us forever. For me, it’s another chapter in a life spent collecting narratives from the road, and I’m grateful to have walked alongside Kya, even just for a while.
Until the next tale calls,
Marcus Rivera
