The first book in an exciting YA trilogy, this is the story of two best friends on the verge of a terrifying divide when they begin to encounter a cast of strange and mythical characters.
Set against the lush, magical backdrop of the Pacific Northwest, two inseparable best friends who have grown up like sisters—the charismatic, mercurial, and beautiful Aurora and the devoted, soulful, watchful narrator—find their bond challenged for the first time ever when a mysterious and gifted musician named Jack comes between them. Suddenly, each girl must decide what matters most: friendship, or love. What both girls don’t know is that the stakes are even higher than either of them could have imagined. They’re not the only ones who have noticed Jack’s gift; his music has awakened an ancient evil—and a world both above and below which may not be mythical at all. The real and the mystical; the romantic and the heartbreaking all begin to swirl together, carrying the two on journey that is both enthralling and terrifying.
And it’s up to the narrator to protect the people she loves—if she can.
As a former student of the Classics and someone fascinated by the genre of academia known as Reception Studies, a book that is at least Orpheus-adjacent is always going to fascinate me; as part of a series whose title is explicitly Ovidian, McCarry was always going to get my attention. But what does All Our Pretty Songs do with that attention…?
All Our Pretty Songs is beautifully written, that’s definitely true. The language is on its face very plain, simple, and blunt; McCarry doesn’t use the lyrical approach much fantasy applies to create its beauty, and isn’t a poetic writer. However, she is a fantastic prose artist; using a simpler language and a plainer prose style to realise some really fantastic visuals and settings, and to set a mood of euphoria, despair, drunkenness etc. There’s a very well controlled approach to voice on display, and some of the best passages of the book are where McCarry in using run-on sentences and chaotic grammar to create a psychedelic sense of the world.
However, this is where my appreciation for All Our Pretty Songs starts to break down a bit. The characters are a little flat, in part because our protagonist never really cares about anyone else’s wants or desires much; instead, she imprints her belief about what they want onto them, assumes their motives and minds. That would work better if we were shown at any time other than the twist that she was wrong; and might work better if the protagonist was a little more interesting herself, rather than so bent on defining herself against the people around her, and by comparison to them, so we never really get a good sense of anyone, and no emotional relationship feels particularly impactful. It also doesn’t help that McCarry flirts a lot with queerness without ever coming out and making it explicit; Aurora and our narrator share a lot of kisses for people who are apparently completely straight, and there’s a lot of queer-coding without ever once having queer desire among the protagonists a reality.
The plot is pretty simple; romance followed by katabasis, as one might expect from an Orphic retelling. All Our Pretty Songs leans pretty hard on the romance aspect, and the impending tragedy of the (double-)katabasis, for its emotional impact; everything is built up with a sense of inevitable tragedy built very explicitly into the story and writing, so that everything is tinged with doom, but that doesn’t make it powerful and portentous, only far too drawn out. It might work better if the romance felt a little more real, but it all feels a little too storybook; McCarry’s failure to create characters, through the narrative lens, who feel like people really shows here.
In the end, this is about 150 pages of set up for a 60 page pay off; intending to be a meditation on love, on ambition, on competing desires and drives, it ends up without the heft to make that work, and without the audience connection to really successfully drive it, at least for this audience. All Our Pretty Songs has great potential; it’s intensely frustrating that it doesn’t live up to it.
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