What makes for the perfect audiobook? The format has been around ever since Thomas Edison recited that first poem – “Mary Had a Little Lamb” – into the phonograph back in 1877. Spoken word was, after all, an easier thing to record on primitive equipment than music, but it wasn’t until the first half of the 20th century that so-called “talking books” started to take off. Since then, their popularity has risen steadily, both as a tool for people with accessibility challenges and an option for the distracted modern mind. Our digital era has rendered the old “book on tape” moniker redundant: now we have access to vast archives of the world’s greatest novels being read, beautifully, into our ears, all at the tap of a button.
With so much choice, it can be hard to find the perfect listen (or should that be “read”?). Some books are stripped of an essential ingredient when they’re removed from the page, while others are elevated by the process. Here, then, is a guide to some of the top titles on audiobooks, along with rules for remaining an engaged and intelligent reader, even whilst doing the dishes or weeding the flowerbeds.
A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin, read by Roy Dotrice
The key to a good audiobook, often, is a gripping plot. Otherwise, your mind is allowed to focus on the distractions (“why has that red Vauxhall Corsa been tailing me for 45 minutes?”, “what sort of small rodent has my dog just caught?”) surrounding you. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire is arguably the greatest fantasy series ever written, and Roy Dotrice’s marathon narration a credit to it (even if you will grow very familiar with Dotrician malapropisms). The five published novels in the series (from A Game of Thrones to A Dance of Dragons) amount to more than 200 hours of blood, betrayal and bonking. For bargain hunters, this makes it a very efficient way to spend your Audible credits or Spotify allowance. And with a work on this scale, you don’t need to worry too much about clocking every minor plot point (often an issue with detective fiction) because so much is happening that no sane mind could possibly keep a handle on it. Frank Herbert’s Dune is a good alternative to ASOIAF, if you prefer your sagas interplanetary and sexless.
Persuasion by Jane Austen, read by Juliet Stevenson
Audible produced a lush 45-hour adaptation of Jane Austen’s major works, featuring readers like Emma Thompson, Florence Pugh and Billie Piper. Unfortunately, it breaks the first rule of a good audiobook: no abridging. Mercifully, Austen’s work has been adapted for audio so frequently that you can choose from a range of A-list readers. Rosamund Pike has had a go at Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility, while Emilia Fox, Glenda Jackson, Frances Barber and others round out the oeuvre. But there is no-one better equipped to capture the sly omniscience of Austen’s narrative voice than Juliet Stevenson. Stevenson appeared in the 1996 version of Emma, starring Gwyneth Paltrow, but her best work in Austenland is in this complete, unabridged, set of the novels. Why not start with Persuasion, arguably Austen’s greatest work, but one that, in its unshowy maturity, is often neglected.
The Dutch House by Ann Patchett, read by Tom Hanks
As audiobooks have become bigger business, there’s been more onus on publishers to hire celebrity readers. This can have a mixed impact, as the top professionals in narration (readers like Simon Vance and George Guidall are legends amongst hardcore audio nerds) have finessed their craft in a way few screen actors could imagine. But there are some very special voices out there, and none more golden than Tom Hanks. Ann Patchett is one of our great modern novelists – her most recent novel, Tom Lake, was narrated by Meryl Streep and is also a treat – and Tom Hanks has the warmest, most inviting voice in Hollywood. It’s a great combo, like being cradled on the tube by Mr Rogers, Walt Disney and Captain Sullenberger. The Dutch House, the story of siblings growing up in a Pennsylvania mansion, strikes the perfect literary balance: credible enough to make you feel like your horizon is expanding, but unshowy in way that survives narrative translation.
The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, read by David Rintoul
I used to live with a fella who had always struggled with the concentration required to read fiction. For some reason, he decided that he would tackle the audiobook of Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov instead. An ambitious undertaking, and one that he seemed to be perpetually “about halfway” through. Yet there’s a logic there: picking great works in translation to listen to, rather than read, means you are more focused on the story (a particularly important fingerhold with philosophical novels like this). After all, literature in translation owes as much to the voice of the translator as the author. And so, less creative integrity is shed in the subsequent transition to audio. The Brothers Karamazov, if you want to follow my flatmate’s example, has several good readings, including Bridgerton’s young Luke Thompson, but the premium example is by David Rintoul, a Scottish actor and one of the modern greats of audiobook narration.
A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, read by Martin Jarvis
My other sacred rule of audiobooks is that they should not involve dramatisations. The emotions of the novel should be expressed politely but not spelled out for listeners (this isn’t an acting job, after all). Martin Jarvis is the king of the well-read but dispassionate narration and his Dickens series a landmark of the medium. The Victorian London evoked by the great author is so striking – so colourful – that it doesn’t require the embellishment that it generally receives in adaptations. Jarvis is an expert in allowing authors to speak for themselves, and his A Tale of Two Cities was how I first encountered Dickens, the writer. From the streets of revolutionary Paris to back alleys of London, this is a novel that starts well (“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”) and only gets better.
Cromwell Trilogy by Hilary Mantel, read by Ben Miles
The most important thing, when selecting an audiobook, is to avoid choosing a title where you miss something by not seeing the words on the page. For me, this excludes most literary fiction, where the shape of the writing requires the eyes more than the ears. I’ll make an exception for Mantel’s Cromwell trilogy, especially for those who already read it in a manic flurry when it was first published. Carefully avoid the abridged and dramatized combo version (featuring Dan Stevens, Julian Rhind-Tutt and Anna Bentinck), which breaks almost all my rules, and opt for the editions read by dishy Ben Miles off the telly. Mantel is the master of interiority, and her Cromwell is a literary voice that inhabits readers’ brains for weeks after they first encounter him. So, these novels are fittingly immersive, and will allow you to close your eyes and drift into the sights, sounds and smells of Tudor England – a beautiful experience, though please exercise caution if driving.
Nostalgia corner
The Private Patient by PD James, read by Daniel Weyman
James’s novels tend to feature patience-testingly long set-ups, but in audiobook form the level of detail slips down a treat. This novel – her last – was how I first encountered her poet-detective, Adam Dalgliesh.
The Sharpe series by Bernard Cornwell, read by Paul McGann
Somehow, when I encountered these books as a child, they didn’t daunt me on cassette tape in the same way they would have on the page. A vivid, delightful introduction to the Napoleonic wars, which have subsequently been re-recorded with Rupert Farley replacing the Doctor Who actor.
The No.1 Ladies’ Detective Agency by Alexander McCall Smith, read by Adjoa Andoa
Adjoa Andoh’s reading of Alexander McCall Smith’s series, featuring the indomitable Mma Ramotswe, is, in my mind, peerless. Yet it can be hard to find, with the BBC instead pushing a full cast (sigh) radio series. Don’t settle for anything but the real thing.
Middlemarch by George Eliot, read by Gabriel Woolf
Even while studying, full time, for an English degree, there is little that would’ve made me persevere with Middlemarch. Thank goodness, then, for the existence of audiobooks. Woolf’s version was the one I opted for, but you can pick from Juliet Stevenson, Juliet Aubrey, Maureen O’Brien or, let’s face it, any number of readers (it’s out of copyright, so new versions will spring up like spring bluebells).
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