All of Us Murderers

Much like the novel’s setting, the Gothic-style Lackaday house, All of Us Murderers feels suspended out of time: despite the centuries-old backdrop, its themes and sense of humour are surprisingly contemporary. Men are called out for treating women like possessions, the laws of aristocratic inheritance are called out for perpetuating systemic inequality, and graffiti is helpfully defined as “from the Italian, referring to the common Roman practice of writing on walls.”

Ambling through the halls of Lackaday house, our protagonist Zeb imagines himself a Gothic heroine, the weak-constitutioned subject of a John Everett Millais painting, his winking self-awareness a readerly delight. He is appalled by the arrangement that is the novel’s premise: one of the Wyckham men must propose to their cousin Jessamine by the end of their two-week stay, a ploy to keep the estate within the family. Zeb acknowledges that the demand technically meets standards of propriety—at the time, women were regularly treated like pawns in a ruthless game of land-ownership chess—and yet (much like a modern reader), he finds the whole venture disturbing.

All of Us Murderers reminds us that while times change, these changes tend to be merely aesthetic. Queerness, for example, is introduced casually despite being anything but, sodomy laws still alive and well during Zeb’s time. Or neurodivergence—without an ADHD diagnosis to wield, Zeb is often misjudged as irresponsible, even incompetent. He’s not like the other murder mystery protagonists, with their knack for organization and critical thinking—but for us, that makes him all the more loveable.

Ableism, homophobia, references to sexual abuse (off-page).