Scythe Audiobook – Arc of a Scythe, Book 1

There’s a certain thrill in stepping out onto my rainy Portland balcony, headphones on, a mug of peppermint tea in hand, and plunging into an audiobook that promises not just romance but absolute chaos. Brynne Weaver’s “Scythe & Sparrow,” the final chapter in the Ruinous Love Trilogy, delivers on that promise—and then some. I went into this one curious (and honestly a little skeptical), braced for BookTok-level drama. What I got was something both wilder and more thoughtful than expected—a mashup of small-town melancholy, circus spectacle, and spicy, morally messy love.

Let’s start with Fionn Kane: he’s our damaged doctor protagonist whose life has imploded spectacularly. Honestly? I could relate to his urge to escape and rebuild; sometimes you want to run from heartbreak and let yourself dissolve into someplace new. The way Samantha Brentmoor voiced Fionn captured every bit of his awkward sincerity—her performance made me root for him even as he fumbled through grief and confusion.

And then there’s Rose Evans—the motorcycling circus daredevil with a not-so-secret penchant for killing (yes, really). Eric Nolan brought Rose’s bravado and vulnerability to life in ways that alternated between chilling and endearing. There are moments when her impulsiveness feels all too real: who among us hasn’t wanted to burn everything down after being hurt? Okay… maybe not literally—but her chaotic energy resonated during my own times of feeling unmoored or dangerously alive.

The first act hooked me right away: forced proximity is always fun when done well, especially when it veers so far off traditional tracks! Imagine having your solitary existence upended by someone whose idea of foreplay includes casual homicide—that dissonance somehow works here because Weaver leans hard into dark humor. Some scenes had me snorting out loud (“Did she seriously just do that?”) while others had me lowering my voice as if afraid the neighbors might overhear the absolutely nuclear-level spice coming through my earbuds.

Still—I found myself grappling with how comfortable the book wants us to be with Rose’s crimes. There were passages where Weaver seemed almost daring us to empathize past all moral boundaries; at times it felt clever (a twisted exploration of loving someone irredeemable), other times almost callous or too edgy for edginess’ sake. The narrative walks a razor-thin line between tongue-in-cheek genre send-up and genuine ethical unease…and doesn’t always stick the landing.

But oh—those settings! Both narrators evoke Nebraska’s flat tranquility juxtaposed with circus tents bursting with color, mystery, menace—even if I’ve never been near either place before. Side characters glitter around the edges: fortune tellers dropping cryptic advice over cups of bitter coffee; creepy ringmasters lurking under spotlights; even Fionn’s crochet group offering brief oases of warmth amid all that mayhem.

I did feel bogged down during some stretches—the infamous second-act sag where our couple circles each other endlessly before anything meaningful happens again. And while their chemistry sizzles physically (one motorcycle scene will haunt me forever), emotionally it sometimes stalls out compared to earlier books’ pairings.

By the time everything erupts in literal flames near the end—I mean that explosion is no joke—I wasn’t sure whether I felt satisfied or simply exhausted by it all. The epilogue tries valiantly to weave together loose threads from previous entries but left me slightly adrift… perhaps because I hadn’t revisited Books 1 & 2 recently enough?

In sum: “Scythe & Sparrow” is unabashedly bizarre—a fever-dream romance laced with violence and black comedy—and while parts frustrated or unsettled me deeply (would NOT recommend listening at work!), I admire its audacity immensely. If you’re craving something utterly different from cookie-cutter rom-coms—a story equal parts sexy trainwreck and existential dare—this might just ruin you in all the right ways.