Source of book: NetGalley (thank you)
Relevant disclaimers: None
Please note: This review may not be reproduced or quoted, in whole or in part, without explicit consent from the author.
One of the under-advertised of getting old is that your likelihood of being cast in some kind of teenage deathmatch goes way, way down. I mean, I guess I could still get Squid Gamed? But, in general, I think I can take comfort from the fact that my involvement in sadistic murder tournaments is going to stay spectator-side.
Anyway, All Of Us Villains is basically The Hunger Games with magic, for people who secretly thought that the best part of The Hunger Games wasn’t its attempts at socio-political commentary, but the brutal will-they-won’t-they of whether teenagers would butcher or kiss each other.
The basic setup here is that there’s high magick and common magick in the world (and holy God, do I have a personal hatred for magic-spelled-with-a-k): common magick is sort of day-to-day type spells and curses, and high magick is change-the-world type stuff that is in very limited supply. One such supply belongs to the seven great families of Ilvernath, except its locked behind a curse that every twenty years requires a chosen teenager from each of the seven families to murder the shit out of each other in a magical deathmatch. The winning child then secures the high magick for their family for the next twenty years.
I can’t lie, I struggled slightly with this premise—not, I hasten to add, because I’m not here for all the bloody adolescent murder fests YA can throw at me, but because it’s just so transparently engineered to create a Hunger Games situation. I honestly wasn’t even completely sure of the actual stakes: like, what does high magic actually, um, do? And why is it good to have it? I mean apart from it giving you nebulous powerfulness. In Ilvernath? On top of which, there were a few elements to the setting and setup that just didn’t fully gel for me: for example, a recently published book about the Underage Slaughter-Off has brought a lot of media scrutiny to the town, which means there’s a lot of publicity around the contestants and paparazzi following them round, and this is apparently important (and is tied into the backstories of two of the characters) but I found it slightly weird and forced. As if All Of Us Villains wanted to tap into the celebrity aspect of the tributes’ lives in The Hunger Games, but hadn’t really anything specific to do with beyond the reference. Plus there’s a random government person hanging around, trying to make alliances with some of the families, and this may become more relevant in the second book, but I found it just inspired more questions than it answered. Like, if the Twenty Year Child Massacre Cycle has been going on for centuries why is the government getting to get involved NOW? Also what the hell kind of government is this anyway?
In any case, despite these questions and some internal resistance (which were as much to do with me as the book itself) All Of Us Villains did, y’know, get me. Especially once the death show started. Even if the premise is a little blunt, a little shaky, the book does a really solid job at establishing the internal rules of its world—how magic works, what spells do, what curses are—so that it’s always clear to the reader what’s going on in the spell-flinging action sequences, what the consequences for various character choices might be, and how rules are broken when they are. More impressively still, it manages its large-ish cast and even larger supporting cast very deftly.
There are seven participants in the Magic Hunger Games and the narration cycles through the POV of four them, each with their own well-established history, motivation, flaws, strengths, and vulnerabilities. They all have their own reasons for wanting to win or survive (given the only way to survive is to win) the tournament and it’s hard not to root for, well, all of them to be honest. It might just have been me, but I did feel the two male protagonists were had slightly more depth and shade to the two women, or perhaps their tropes were simply more recognisable?
Gavin Grieve is from a no-hope family that nobody takes seriously, and the sacrifices he makes for the power to compete are genuinely quite harrowing. And Alistair Lowe is from the most successful family of child killers—having been conditioned for his role in the tournament since the day he was born, he has been taught to see himself as a monster. I feel a bit of a sucker for falling for him as hard as I did but, while I cared about the others, and felt a certain degree of empathy for Gavin with his in-world equivalent to a lower-class background, there’s no escaping the fact that Alistair is the most charismatic and complex character in the book. To an almost unbalancing degree. By contrast, Briony is motivated by a desire to prove herself a hero: a perspective that is gradually dismantled over the course of the narrative, but she felt the most one-note off all the POV characters. Isobel, too, is a likeable character, and I admired how cynical and ruthless the text allows her to be, but her problem is Alistair Lowe. They bounce between being rivals and allies, and have burgeoning romantic chemistry, but while Isobel can mostly hold her own, she’s less interesting when she’s with Alistair. Which feels like a really messed up thing to say but, err. It’s true?
Of course, that leaves three of the seven participants much less well-articulated. I can absolutely see why this decision was made because seven POV characters would have been simply too much. It does, however, take much of the tension out of the book: clearly you’re more likely die if you don’t have a POV, and the lack of POV from the most explicitly antagonistic character strips her of any nuance or complexity, making her feel more like a plot device than a person. Finley Blair, the handsome noble one, is also the only Black character among the seven so it feels a bit … something … that he’s also not a POV character. Although I will say, protagonists aside, the supporting cast is comfortably diverse, and I think there’s some implication that several of the protagonists are queer.
And I’m now starting to worry my thoughts are making me sound as if I was more negative towards the book than I actually was. Because please don’t misunderstand me: I enjoyed the absolute bloody hell out of All Of Us Villains. It is an unabashedly dark and fast-paced story about CHILDREN MURDERING EACH OTHER for heaven’s sake. How could it not be a rocking good time? More seriously, though, it’s coherent magic system alongside its complex characters, and its delicate exploration of familial abuse and the roles we are cast into versus the roles we choose for ourselves, all elevate it above its inspirations. Obviously comparing books against each other is not a helpful way to look at them—unlike a teenage murder show, it’s not a competition—but this ended up being a lot more to my personal taste than The Hunger Games. That’s not a value judgement about quality: I just happened to like this more.
Also. Alistair Lowe. Dammit, I would gladly commit murder to keep that poor kid safe. Not that he’s not perfectly capable of doing his own murders, of course.