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Audible Audio
Published October 7, 2025
There is a distinct moment about one-third of the way into Gabriel Bergmoser’s thriller audiobook, where Veronica recounts her deep, bubbling frustration. She is looking at Keith, the arrogant, brilliant star of their university group and realizing that his invitation to a remote holiday home wasn't an act of friendship.
It was a summons. He brought them there to drop a bomb about his own success, explicitly because he thought he was superior to them, and because he knew exactly how each of them would predictably, insecurely react.
As I listened to Veronica’s bitter, sharp account, punctuated by the visceral, unsettling image of a spider crawling out of her meticulously controlled keto salad: a realization hit me.
I felt somewhat the same way about the author.
My trajectory with Backstory mirrored Veronica’s internal state. Veronica is a character defined by an aggressive attempt at control, forced discipline, and keeping up appearances. For me, this audiobook started the exact same way. I added it to my reading list with the best intentions, hit play, and quit after a minute or two. Something else would catch my attention.
But the story stayed in my reading list. Partly because the cover looked unique. Because the plot felt different than the ones I'd seen before. A story of five friends.
Weeks later, I’d force myself back to it, only to put it down again. It was a disciplined, persistent cycle of stops and starts, forcing myself to digest a narrative that felt heavy, much like Veronica forcing herself through that strict, unappealing salad just to maintain her armor.
But then, I persisted past the opening act, and the author's trap snapped shut. There was no escape now.
Looking back, I realize how Bergmoser intentionally engineered this experience. He didn’t drop us straight into the dense, dark history of the five friends. Instead, he baited the hook with a brilliant frame story: the tense, sharp correspondence between two journalists, Phoebe and Sarah, who have had a massive fallout.
This professional friction is snappy, immediate, and highly readable. It gave me an easy runway into the book. It was a comfortable dynamic that kept me listening just long enough for Bergmoser to pull off his ultimate bait-and-switch.
Once the listener is comfortably locked into the journalists' drama, Bergmoser begins dropping the heavy, meaty, hour-long memoirs and interviews of the surviving friends.
By the time I reached Veronica’s chapter and realized the true weight and length of what I was listening to, it was too late. I was too deeply enmeshed in the mystery to back out. The author had successfully anchored me to a six-hour journey, and I simply couldn't quit.
This is what makes Backstory such a fascinating, meta-textual listening experience. The book isn't just about a toxic group of creative writing students being manipulated by a smug puppet master; the book is a manifestation of that manipulation. Only to reveal that who I thought would be the puppet master was the puppet himself. And the master, they created such an image of themselves that one wouldn't read between the lines.
As an author, he sat back and structurally predicted reader behavior with laudable accuracy. He knew when the listener might get bored, introducing the snappy journalist fallout. He knew exactly when we would be hooked enough to endure the slower, psychologically grueling character deep-dives.
Backstory proves that a great thriller doesn't just tell a story about psychological warfare. It wages war against the audience. I still have hours left to go, but the author has already won the battle of wits.
And by the time the story came to a conclusion, it felt more like a baton was being passed off. The message at the end isn't just a message, it's a reality of the reader who arrives at that point. We start as detectives, as investigative journalists, all suited up and rearing to see things pan out the way we wish them to. But humans are like sponge, we can't help but absorb things ourselves. That's what happened, as I subconsciously absorbed the implications and arrived at the lessons and morals this story delivered.
Every character has a critical flaw that determines their every action. I can't put it all up here, but what I can say is this. There's a lot to learn from this audiobook. And I'm glad I went along to the very end.
• Be sharp, but know when to exit gracefully.
• Never let a job or a single person become 100% of your identity.
• Keep your hands on the steering wheel of your own life.