Girl on the Train

Okay, look. I know I’m late to the party. Like, years late.

While everyone else was devouring The Girl on the Train back in 2015, I was probably re-reading The Haunting of Hill House for the twentieth time and complaining that modern thrillers lack "atmosphere." (Yes, I am that person. No, I’m not apologizing.)

But I finally caved. I had a long weekend of cataloging new arrivals at the library—mind-numbing work that requires something gripping to keep me from falling asleep in the stacks. So I put on my headphones, ignored Shirley (my cat, who was demanding second breakfast), and let Paula Hawkins ruin my day.

And honestly? I get the hype now.

The "Trainwreck" Aesthetic (Literally)

Here’s the thing about this audiobook: it feels dirty. Not in a fun, salacious way, but in a "I haven't washed my hair in three days and I'm drinking gin out of a water bottle" way.

We’re dealing with three narrators here—Clare Corbett, India Fisher, and Louise Brealey—and they aren't trying to be your friends. They’re messy. They’re unlikeable. And the narration leans hard into that discomfort.

Clare Corbett, who voices Rachel, is the MVP. Seriously. Rachel is an alcoholic blackout waiting to happen, and Corbett doesn't shy away from the slur, the desperation, the pathetic whining. It’s visceral. There were moments I actually wanted to take my headphones off because the second-hand embarrassment was physically painful.

That’s not bad acting. That’s incredible acting. If you’ve ever known a messy drunk, you’ll recognize the tone immediately. It’s heavy. It’s sad. It’s horror without the ghosts.

Why The Multi-Cast Saves It

The structure of this book is fragmented—jumping between Rachel, Anna, and Megan. If a single narrator had tried to pull this off, I would’ve zoned out.

(I tried listening to a single-narrator thriller last week and literally forgot who the killer was halfway through. Don't tell my podcast listeners.)

But here, the distinct voices act like anchors. You know exactly who you’re with the second they speak. Louise Brealey (playing Megan) brings this raw, bored restlessness that contrasts perfectly with Corbett’s frantic energy.

It turns the listening experience into voyeurism. You feel like you’re eavesdropping on three women who really, really need therapy.

The "Dude Voice" Problem

Okay, I have to be real for a second. We need to talk about the male voices.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a female narrator doing a "deep" male voice is a gamble. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it sounds like a cartoon villain with a head cold.

In this production? It’s... fine. Just fine. There were moments where the narrators dropped their pitch to sound like the husbands/boyfriends and it pulled me out of the trance a bit. It wasn't a dealbreaker—the story is too good for that—but it was the only time I remembered I was listening to an actor in a booth rather than living inside a spiraling woman's head.

The Verdict

This isn't a "fun" listen. It’s heavy on the dread, super depressing, and filled with people making terrible choices.

But if you like your thrillers psychological and your narrators unreliable as hell? This is the gold standard. It understands that the scariest things aren't monsters under the bed—they're the gaps in our own memories.

I listened to the last two hours in the dark, staring at the ceiling, feeling genuinely unsettled. Shirley was unimpressed, but she hates anything that isn't about treats or naps.

If you haven't listened yet because you think it's just "that popular airport book," get over yourself (like I did) and hit play.