Audiobooks are an advanced development in storytelling, technologically speaking. However, they return to a tradition which precedes print publication: oral storytelling.
Audio books, as we understand them, began during the 1920s in Britain, with the idea of a “talking book”. Up to that point, novels were shared largely through printing. Due to the expense involved in their production, the early audiobook couldn’t boast the levels of popularity it has boasted in recent years The widespread use, and availability of, audiobooks, particularly through digital platforms such as Audible and Librivox ,give us the opportunity to look at storytelling from a perspective not experienced prior to the arrival of the printing press
The audiobook engages in the traditional mode of sharing stories through the spoken word. Despite it being an original mode of storytelling, its status as the best mode of storytelling is objectionable. There are times when the literary value of the work as an object of study is undermined by the limitations of the audiobook as a form; this is a consequence of one of the primary differences in the structure of both media. The novel as a text requires the participation of the reader in a way that the recording of a novel spoken aloud does not: turning pages, scanning letters, and interpreting the inflection of the words is the responsibility of the reader with the printed form, but not the verbal. These are not factors which are accounted for by the listener of the audiobook; underlining phrases, annotating a book and studying an excerpt are all experiences unique to the mode of the visual text. The virtue of the text being fixed to a physical form lends itself to styles of study and analysis far more suited to current methods of academia than its sonic counterpart. This cannot be done as effectively using the far less structured form of the audiobook.
The audiobook is, arguably, far more fluid in its structure and form than the physical novel. Texts for the most part can be contained in a limited form consisting of a beginning and end, visually represented by the object: the first page and the last page. However, the audiobook, which exists in the software of your phone or laptop, does not have this and instead is only contained by the running time of the pre-established recording. This recording can be altered to play faster or slower than its automatic speed, thus suggesting that the novel exists as an abstract form. It is intangible and less segmented into blocks of chapters.
This reflection suggests that we may share a closer connection to the story and the voice of the narrative if it exists without the distraction of activities such as turning the page or acknowledging chapter breaks which, in just a second, can break the momentum of the narrative. This close intimacy forged between the listener and the narratives becomes especially valuable for the genre of memoir, which capitalises on the personal connection between the narrative and the listener. This is especially relevant when the book is read by the author. When reading Carrie Fisher’s ‘Wishful Drinking’ you understand the inflections and the tones in the lines as the author herself intended them to be read. The idiosyncrasies of the work are revealed in a way that the restrictions of text do not allow for. A fantastic example of this virtue in practice is the narrating of the Harry Potter books by, a series that hasn’t left the Audible bestsellers list since its release. The performer elevates the material, adding nuances, personality and theatrics which may not have been as effectively displayed in the static text. The figurative voice of the story is controlled by a narrator who has the potential to create a sterile, conclusive interpretation of the novel, or, as in the best audiobooks, the opportunity to deliver an interesting and engaging performance which includes the listener by allowing their own interpretation of the story.
The reader’s engagement with the novel and their investment in the story is essential in each containment of the novel. Both modes attempt this in different ways and therefore yield different results. The theatrical but passive experience of listening to the novel frees the consumer from any responsibility to drive the narrative further, and instead provides them with constructed, lively personalities that the listener can engage with aurally. A useful comparison is the difference between a performance and a script; audiobooks feed us the narrative as the former, whereas the text sets the story in front of us for interpretation like a script. The practice is different, but the freedom of interpretation is still granted for both and creates two respectfully valuable experiences.
