It’s clear from the first page that author Aaron Jackson is a master storyteller, a virtuoso with language, who weaves a timeless, delightful tale with the ease of a traveling bard. Although set in New York City from the 1930’s through the 1960’s, the narrative voice might just as well be regaling us with tales of King Arthur or Nicholas Nickelby. Blending rapier wit with droll humor and an obvious affection for the characters, we feel we could be listening to curator of a museum or the surviving dowager of a royal family.
To that end, narrator Joel Froomkin makes a bold choice taking on the persona of a kindly British observer (or perhaps studied New York Aristocracrat) as he seamlessly inhabits the author’s voice. His absolute love of the city and its inhabitants clearly comes through as he takes us on August’s journey from the darkest recesses of backstage cubbies and trap doors to the highest penthouse in the city and its own traps. And in the tradition of some of the grandest coming of age stories of all time, August is a wonder who leaves his mark indelibly on our literary psyche.
I have listened to many hundreds of audiobooks during my own several decades and I can state unequivocally that Froomkin navigates the tricky waters of voicing female characters with a deftness that defies the senses. One might swear that he keeps a bevy and chorus girls and little old ladies on hand in his studio to jump in when the scene call for one.
There is a single scene early on, when August, acting as a lookout for a gang of pickpockets, discovers he can’t whistle and improvises. That alone is worth every penny. And at seven hours and change, the audiobook fairly gallops past and you find yourself trying to slow it down so it doesn’t get away too soon.
I only write reviews when I have been deeply moved or thrilled or surprised by the experience. And Aaron Jackson and Joel Froomkin are surprises I’ll gladly enter a dark room for again and again.