Barry Eads
9 books read for LibriVox
- Wilde lets his idle aristocrats trade epigrams for two acts, and Lord Illingworth is horribly quotable, then the play turns serious when Mrs Arbuthnot's old secret surfaces. If you want pure froth you might resist the melodrama, but the wit alone earns the evening.
- You get political persuasion at close range: Brutus speaks as if reason can keep a republic clean, while Cassius understands how fear and resentment move people. The funeral speeches are thrilling to read aloud, but the play leaves you with uneasy questions about honor, crowds, and unintended consequences.
- You get a dark, ferociously theatrical tragedy where the Duchess’s private marriage collides with her brothers’ vicious control, and Bosola watches it all with a bitter, uneasy intelligence. The plot turns brutal, but Webster’s language and the play’s strange flashes of tenderness keep it from becoming mere gloom.
- The Humbugs of the World non-fictionYes, the great showman himself grousing about frauds, and the irony lands better than you'd expect. He goes after spirit mediums, quack medicines, the Moon Hoax, all in chatty anecdotes, and half the fun is watching him carefully separate his kind of humbug from the cruel kind.
- The Life of Buffalo Bill non-fictionTake it with a grain of salt, since Cody was already half showman when he wrote it, but that's the fun: Pony Express rides, the buffalo-shooting contest that won him his name, all told with a straight face. Read it for the legend building itself in real time.
- Fair warning, it's basically a young man's love letters spiraling into obsession, and it does not end cheerfully. But Werther's feelings for Lotte are so raw and overheated you remember being twenty-two and ridiculous, and Goethe somehow makes the self-pity feel true instead of embarrassing.
- Through the Brazilian Wilderness non-fictionRoosevelt cataloguing birds and piranhas is pleasant enough, but the book turns quietly harrowing once the River of Doubt starts eating canoes and he's running a fever, still writing calmly. If you like old expedition accounts with real teeth, this earns its slow stretches.
- You go for the sinister hypnotist Svengali, but what stays with you is bohemian Paris, three British art students, and tone-deaf Trilby herself, warm and doomed. Fair warning, du Maurier rambles and the Svengali caricature is ugly by any modern measure, so read it with eyes open.
- You’re glad you read it for the strange intimacy of spending a day inside Leopold Bloom’s mind, where errands, advertisements, hunger, and memory keep turning unexpectedly funny and tender. It’s demanding and occasionally maddening, but the jokes, wordplay, and Molly Bloom’s closing monologue reward patience.