I’ll come out upfront and say this is not a first impression of this book. I’ve listened to it MANY times and consider it one of my favorite series.
Ah, Dungeon Crawler Carl. This is an irreverent, humorous-but-heartfelt LitRPG novel that very perfectly fits in with the gamer mentality.
At least in my personal opinion.
It’s cliche to say this, but it really feels like this is a book that was written for me. I’m definitely right smack in the target demographic (nerdy lifelong gamer/reader), but it’s not as niche as that might seem. Seriously. The fan base is vast and varied, but all as passionate about the themes, characters, and memes that make up this fantastic series.
Anyway, this particular book. To sum up, our main character is Carl, a mid-20s man who just broke up with his girlfriend and still has her pampered show cat in his apartment. Everything’s fine until the world ends.
You heard right. Aliens have claim to all the resources on Earth, and the time has come to harvest. However, intergalactic policy states that if a resident of the planet successfully navigates all 18 floors of a dungeon, they can lay claim to the planet and save it.
Enter the Dungeon.
This book covers floors 1 and 2 of the dungeon, bringing readers along with Carl as he learns how the game works and sees how people adjust to literally living in a televised game where magic is real, goblins are addicted to meth, and when you die, you die. I’d love to go into the plot, but to be totally serious, it’s best taken with no expectations to allow the insanity and joy of it all to just wash over you and take you by surprise.
Just know there’s no gratuitous sex, but there is a lot of really strong language, gore, more gore, and MORE GORE. There is sexual innuendo and suggestive stuff, but nothing explicit there. Not for the faint of heart.
Dinniman is a master of the unexpected but logical. Some of the unexpected twists and events seem to hit out of left field, but in retrospect (or a second or millionth read/listen), they are telegraphed well and subtly. Even better, he very deftly introduces the reader to the intricacies of the game along with Carl.
So, I mentioned relistening/rereading. This book is well worth multiple intakes. I probably listen to the series 2-3 times a year since I first discovered it, and I’m always finding something new about it: some new hint, detail, or just straight up something that I missed previously due to a momentary lapse in attention or memory.
I want to discuss the audiobooks primarily, mostly because they are so wonderfully done. The majority of that is at the hands of the narrator, the incredible Jeff Hayes. This man, guys… This man is so spectacular at voices and deliver that it surprises a lot of people to realize he does ALL THE VOICES. With a couple exceptions, Hayes does them all. If he isn’t doing a character, it’s because there was a guest voice actor brought in for someone particular— sometimes to great effect, sometimes not so much coughCriticalDrinkercough
I have not read the paper or ebook versions of this book, though I do own an autographed copy of this one. I’ve only listened to the audio, and it’s a hoot in and of itself. It truly brings the story alive, and that’s not even counting the fact that there are AUDIO IMMERSION TUNNELS happening, where the books are full audio dramas. I’ve heard snippets of those, and they’re one step further into really making the books real.
I plan to do reviews of each book as I work my way through the series again. Naturally, as we progress, the number of times I’ve consumed the later books will be less than the first few. When I first got introduced to the series, I believe book 5 had just been released. So I’ve been around for the releases of books 6 and 7, and am eagerly awaiting book 8. But book 6 I’ve only listened to 3 or 4 times, and book 7 twice. So I’ll be reviewing that after my third listen. Keep your eyes out for my impressions of the books, and seriously, grab a copy. You won’t regret it!

This being the first of the book reviews I’ve done in quite a while, I suppose I should clarify what my intentions are with them. In the past, I have written book reviews mostly with the intent of supporting author friends. I see no reason why I shouldn’t continue to support authorly friends, so if you have a book you’d like me to read and review for you, please contact me. I will warn that physical reading take a lot longer for me these days. Audio is better, mostly because of time and attention constraints. I have drive time that I can dedicate to listening where I can’t read a physical book while doing that. That’s a good 5 hours a week just listening to books. I also listen while cleaning, eating, cooking, that sort of thing. I can try physical reading again too, so please don’t let that deter you if you want my thoughts on your work.
I digress, as I so often do. What I intend with these book reviews: my own thoughts, such as they may be. Sometimes, it may be a lot of focus on plot and character. It could be on craft, voice, even setting. Knowing me, a lot will just be general thoughts. Anyway, in short, just know that I read widely and enjoy talking about books in general. So expect that from these reviews.
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This is not a first impression of The Handmaid’s Tale. No, I first listened to this audiobook probably 10-ish years ago. But I just finished a re-listen and it was better than I remember. And I remember liking it a lot then. That said, here are my thoughts on it as it sits fresh on my mind.
Atwood writes beautifully. Simply put, it’s wonderful prose that, at least in my opinion, perfectly encapsulates the protagonist’s mindset. It isn’t until the epilogue that we discover this story was “discovered” as a series of audio cassettes, but that one revelation makes the whole thing make so much more sense to me, from a technical standpoint. The fact that I have absorbed it through audiobook only drives that further home. The delivery of the version I have, read by Claire Danes, truly feels like half of a conversation, like the oral passing down of stories from elder to child a generation or two removed.
That’s what so much of this feels like to me: like a story told, not one written. Obviously I don’t know if Atwood intended that to be its format from the beginning, or if it came along during the process somewhere, but I like to believe it is intended to be heard more than read, in general.
I’m writing this on October 13, 2025 in the United States, and it goes without saying that this book very much hits hard right now. It’s well-documented that Atwood took a lot of inspiration from Orwell’s 1984, another dystopian fascist novel. It’s far too clear to see the parallels in Atwood’s prose and the current living situation of every human demographic other than rich, white, male Evangelical. What’s even more terrifying is that the things Atwood describes not only could happen, they are happening in the U.S. even as I type this. Speaking as someone who falls into a number of minority categories (being trans for one), it really struck my nerves and fears in a way it didn’t ten years ago.
What Atwood really nailed, at least to my listening this time through, is all the small ways so many people break the rules. The intense strictures of everyday life in the Republic of Gilead are no way for people to live. Even those who benefit from the rules know that. Even they: the Commander, Serena Joy, the aunts, they all have their own small breaks that give them more reason to go on. The Commander with something as simple as playing Scrabble, one of the Marthas (I forget which one, Rita maybe) cutting radishes into rosettes and other shapes, all the people with cigarettes, mentions of the black market, all these things build up. They are proof of humanity’s survival and constant desire to be more than a basic nothingness.
Yet somehow, Atwood always managed to capture the sense of hope. Hope buried, lost, found again, shared, kept, coveted, reveled in. Even at its darkest moments, those where the writings and rules of the government of Gilead are at their worst, Offred and other characters demonstrate that they are still people. At their basest, most primal state, they are still people with wants and needs and the drive to find ways to survive and achieve those wants. Something as small as a single match hidden in a bed frame is a symbol of something strong waiting to break free.
I can’t help but compare it to another media tale of “the beforetimes” transitioning to the current horrific situation, told in a horrid way from one sufferer to the next: Valerie’s autobiography in V for Vendetta. The single match being hope, Valerie’s “one inch” being the last thing that cannot be taken from us.
Seeing the country I grew up in turning into a world where threat of my being disappeared is very real makes those small hopes mean a lot more. That one inch of self is critical. That one shred of being unapologetically who you are, in whatever small ways you can, is a valuable way to fight back. It might not be a lot, but then, it might be everything.