Benjamin Stevenson

“Everyone In My Family Has Killed Someone” by Benjamin Stevenson is a novel that, much like an overwrought comedian who never quite finds his audience, fails to strike the right chord with me. It promises a thrilling blend of mystery and dark humour but ultimately falls flat in both realms.

From the outset, Stevenson’s attempts to break the fourth wall are incessant and intrusive. The protagonist, Ernest, a novelist writing his own story, constantly reminds us of his authorial presence. show more This technique, rather than being clever or engaging, becomes a regular source of annoyance. For instance, at one point, he states:

»I’ll hold it here to mention that I know some authors are incapable of having a woman throw up without it being a clue to a pregnancy. These same authors seem to think nausea is the only indication of childbearing, not to mention their belief that vomit shoots out the woman’s mouth within hours of plot-convenient fertilization. By some authors, I mean male ones. Far be it from me to tell you which clues to pay close attention to, but Sofia’s not pregnant, okay? She’s allowed to throw up of her own volition.«

The author tries too hard to be funny, and the humour rarely lands. Ernest’s self-aware commentary and sardonic wit are overplayed and fail to elicit the intended amusement.

The book’s primary claim to fame is its meta-narrative approach — a novelist writing his tale while being a character within it — but this ends up being a double-edged sword. While it might appeal to those who enjoy a postmodern twist, it did not work for me at all. The narrative remains disappointingly flat, with frequent self-reflections that add little to the story’s depth or allure. Ernest’s humour, rather than endearing, feels forced and sleazy, like a jaded comedian overstaying his welcome at the microphone.

»I have to be aware that you’re aware I’m writing this all down, is what I’m trying to say.«

Stevenson’s style largely fails to capture the spirit of the classic “Golden Age of Mystery” stories he so evidently seeks to emulate. The mystery itself drags aimlessly, with the plot unravelling at a snail’s pace. One of the most telling examples of this tedious pacing can be found in the way crucial revelations are handled: The “big reveal” scene in the library of all places significantly lacks the flair of great detectives like Hercule Poirot or Sherlock Holmes. Instead, it feels anticlimactic, leaving me yearning for the sharp wit and keen intellect of those classic sleuths.

The second half of the book does pick up somewhat in terms of plot movement, but by then, the damage has been done. The long-winded setup means that what should be thrilling climactic moments feel disjointed and lacklustre. Even the most intriguing parts of the mystery fail to compensate for the overall tedium.

Ultimately, I found the novel’s attempt to blend humour and mystery underwhelming. The story lacks the urgency and tension that make a great mystery compelling, and the humour comes across as lacklustre rather than engaging.

As much as this novel tried to wrap itself in the veneer of old-world charm and intellectual wit, it ultimately felt lazy and unconvincing. I'll be returning to more engaging and less self-indulgent reads.

Two out of five stars.

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Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam show less

Entertaining mystery in the tradition of Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie - all clues, deduction, and elimination of suspects (often literally, as there was a pretty high body count by the end). Our narrator, Ernest Cunningham IS earnest, funny, and very well-informed. He is not a detective per se, but he writes books about how to write Golden Age mysteries, so this definitely has a meta vibe going. Plus, this is his own family that he is laying bare, so he is kind of an expert. The first show more thing he wants us to know is that the name 'Cunningham' carries some crime weight. His Dad was killed during a robbery, and his brother Michael is just being sprung after a term for murder. Ern himself blew him in. To mark Michael's release (only 3 or so years) the family is gathering at a ski resort in the Australian mountains. This includes Ern, his organizing Aunt Katherine and her husband Andy, his mother Audrey (who is not speaking to him for 'betraying' his brother) and her second husband Marcello, who was Michaels' lawyer, Ern's stepsister Sophia - the one he feels closest to and enjoys the most - she has made him a Bingo card for all the predictable family actions and reactions; Michael's ex-wife Lucy, and finally Michael with Ern's ex-girlfriend Erin in tow because they are now a couple. Lots of complications here for sure. And upon waking to their first morning, there is a dead body outside on the mountain. The body is unknown and doesn't appear to be a guest at the chalet - the assumption is death from exposure to the cold overnight. And of course there is a massive storm brewing which will make this a 'closed room' mystery. Michael has not even arrived yet, but when he does he will immediately be considered a suspect by the rookie cop at the resort. And there is also a large bag of money in Ern's possession that he has kept for Michael while he was in jail. Another subsequent dead body marks this as the work of the infamous Black Tongue killer who suffocates his victims with ash. Why has he turned up when the Cunninghams have? Excellent twists, turns, switches, red herrings, dead ends, surprises all lead to a final solution that Ern has worked out, but that I certainly didn't see coming! His chatty, funny narration lets us know he knows all along - because he is writing the book! And he drops heavy hints and specific page numbers because he is teasing us througout, though he does not leave us disappointed. Very clever and fresh and enjoyable. Ern is more loveable than insufferable - he's definitely aware of his own shortcomings and his self-deprecating humor makes the reader feel in on the joke - and the mystery. And he has totally nailed the forced family vacation dynamic. show less

Australian murder mystery that is wonderfully meta in the telling, enjoyably voicey, and a good mystery to boot. This is the most pure fun I've had with a book in a minute.

A novel like a candy box of mystery, with about eight little crimes and capers all wrapped up inside one majorly mysterious bank heist, with a pretty bow.

Like many fictional detectives, Ernie Cunningham would never let a little sense of self preservation get in the way of solving a crime, or keep him from almost being murdered several times a book. But this was the first installment in this series where his actions were SO foolhardy, I had to put the book down for a while. Honestly, I'm show more still ashamed of this man: he is incredibly reckless and should definitely be in jail. But I'm still glad I picked the book back up, because it's a weird, fun, twisty mystery that keeps you guessing. I just hope the next book does something to re-ground Ernie from his over-the-top antics. He can't keep getting away with it! show less