To carry on with the theme of reviewing books utterly oozing with bleak atmosphere, it's time we discussed All the Birds, Singing. By "discuss," I really mean "chatter to myself," since this one was published in April of last year and I imagine most of you got to it in a more timely fashion.

"Another sheep, mangled and bled out, her innards not yet crusting and the vapours rising from her like a steamed pudding. Crows, their beaks shining, strutting and rasping, and when I waved my stick they flew to the trees and watched, flaring out their wings, singing, if you could call it that. ... I'd been up that morning, before the light came through, out there, talking to myself, telling the dog about the things that needed doing as the blackbirds in the hawthorn started up. Like a mad woman, listening to her own voice, the wind shoving it back down my throat and hooting over my open mouth like it had done every morning since I moved to the island. With the trees rattling in the copse and the sheep blaring out behind me, the same trees, the same wind and sheep." - pg. 1, All the Birds, Singing

The novel tells the story of Jake Whyte, a sheep farmer living on her own on a dreary, frigid island in Great Britain. As the opening excerpt describes in graphic detail, something is killing her sheep. Interspersed with Jake's struggle to find out who or what is behind the slaughter is the story of how she came to be on the island. Wyld unflinchingly shows the reader just why Jake is the way she is; much like the opening paragraphs, most of it isn't pretty.

Actually, that thing I said about chattering to myself? I take it back. Immediately after devouring the book in two days, I unabashedly spammed chatted with Julianne of Outlandish Lit about how much it knocked my socks clean off.

I think sharing parts of our chat will help guide my thoughts on this. Note that it has been edited for clarity and spoilers.

The book's perspective shifts with each chapter; one moment we're with Jake in the present day, and the next we're learning how she got there in reverse chronological order. The narrative style made me sit up and pay attention, since I was constantly having to flip back to earlier passages to put the pieces together. For instance, Jake has disturbing flashbacks to her time spent with a man named Otto, but we don't actually meet Otto until a third of the way through the novel. We do, however, see how thoroughly he's unraveled her long before then.

Wyld also has a thing for animals. Parts of the story take place in Australia, and I found myself Googling all kinds of new creatures while I read.


The ending was a sticking point for a lot of readers, thus our extensive discussion about it. While I don't want to give it away, I'll say that it isn't a traditional way to end a story and might leave some readers dissatisfied. I felt that the ending fit the story perfectly, especially considering the glimpses we get into Jake's psyche and the trauma she's still experiencing.

The "beginning" of Jake's story that Julianne references was a bit of a letdown, mostly because it felt cliché in a way the rest of the story didn't. Because we only get a couple of chapters of young Jake, we don't get a great sense for how far back her mental deterioration began (for instance, was there abuse at home?). Like Julianne said, we don't really get why she acted like she did, which could have strengthened the story as a whole.

Overall, this felt like a minor flaw considering how masterfully the rest of the story was told. If you enjoy dark settings, offbeat storytelling, and troubled narrators, bump this one up on your TBR list. I know I'll be on the lookout for Wyld's next release.


Oh, and if you enjoy me and Julianne messaging each other (sometimes vulgarly) about books, you should check out our chat reviews of The Lathe of Heaven by Ursula K. Le Guin.