Grading Papers with the Apocalypse
So there I was, 11:30 PM on a Tuesday, red pen in hand, working through a stack of sophomore essays on The Great Gatsby - most of which were clearly written the period before they were due - when I decided I needed something to keep me awake. Something with stakes. Something that would make Fitzgerald's green light feel quaint by comparison.
The Book of Revelation seemed like overkill. It was exactly what I needed.
Look, I've taught biblical allusions in literature for two decades. You can't get through Steinbeck or Morrison or Flannery O'Connor without bumping into Revelation imagery every few pages. The four horsemen, the whore of Babylon, the number of the beast - it's everywhere in Western lit. But I'll be honest: I hadn't actually sat with the source material since grad school. And back then I was reading it, squinting at tiny print, probably hungover. This time I wanted to hear it.
Michael Scott and the Weight of Prophecy
Not that Michael Scott. (Though honestly, the mental image of Steve Carell narrating apocalyptic visions is now stuck in my head and I'm not mad about it.)
This Michael Scott takes a remarkably restrained approach, and I mean that as genuine praise. The prose deserves to be savored, and Scott seems to understand that the text doesn't need theatrical embellishment. When you're dealing with lines like "And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death" - you don't need to ham it up. The words do the heavy lifting.
His voice is clear, measured, almost documentary-like. Some listeners apparently found this a mismatch - I read one review that said his voice "wasn't a good fit" - and I get it. If you're expecting fire-and-brimstone preacher energy, you'll be disappointed. But here's the thing: the narrator understands that pause is punctuation. He lets the imagery land. He trusts the material.
At only 83 minutes, this is basically the length of a faculty meeting. (Worth pausing the faculty meeting for, absolutely.) Scott maintains a consistent tone throughout without ever dragging, which is harder than it sounds when you're dealing with extended passages of symbolic description. Seven seals, seven trumpets, seven bowls of wrath - it could become monotonous. It doesn't.
The Text Itself (Because We Should Talk About It)
This reminds me of what Hemingway said about writing - that the dignity of movement of an iceberg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water. Revelation is all iceberg. The surface level is wild - dragons, beasts with multiple heads, lakes of fire, a city descending from heaven - but the real meaning lives underneath.
John of Patmos wasn't writing a literal prediction of the future. He was writing resistance literature. He was writing to persecuted Christians under Roman occupation, using coded imagery they would understand. The "beast" was almost certainly Rome. The number 666? Probably Nero. It's political satire dressed as prophecy, comfort literature for people who were dying for their faith.
My students would hate this. I love it.
Because once you understand what the author is really saying, the whole thing transforms. It's not a roadmap to the end times - it's a message that says "hold on, justice is coming, the oppressor will fall." That's a story humans have needed to hear in every generation since.
Hearing it read aloud, rather than scanning it on a page, forces you to slow down. To sit with the repetition. To feel the rhythm of the sevens - seven churches, seven spirits, seven stars. It's almost hypnotic. Liturgical. This is why we still read the classics - or in this case, listen to them.
Fair Warning
Okay, so. Content-wise, this is intense. Violence, judgment, apocalyptic destruction - it's all here. If you're looking for gentle spiritual comfort, this ain't it. Revelation has always been the weird uncle of the New Testament, and the audiobook doesn't soften that.
Also, if you're coming to this wanting dramatic narration - multiple voices, musical scoring, theatrical interpretation - you won't find it. This is a straightforward reading. Clean audio, single narrator, no frills. For me, that's a feature. For some listeners, it might feel flat.
And I'll be honest about what I couldn't verify: I couldn't find much about this particular Michael Scott's background or other work. Based on this recording, he's competent and clear, but I can't tell you if he's done other biblical texts or what his approach typically is. The performance speaks for itself.
Who Should Listen
If you're a literature nerd who wants to finally understand all those apocalyptic allusions in your favorite novels - this is your 83-minute crash course. If you're doing any kind of biblical study and you process better through listening than reading - several reviewers mentioned this exact thing, and I relate. If you want something to make your commute feel cosmically significant - well, nothing says "perspective" like seven trumpets heralding divine judgment while you're stuck in traffic on the Dan Ryan.
Skip it if you need dramatic performance to stay engaged, or if apocalyptic religious content isn't your thing. No shame in that.
I finished it the same night I started, right around the time I gave up on the Gatsby essays and decided they could wait until morning. Sometimes you need a reminder that there are bigger stories than whether Nick Carraway is a reliable narrator.
(He's not. But that's another podcast episode.)
