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dantastic's review against another edition
4.0
When Marius don Hellespont finds himself dead for a second time and his girlfriend missing, he goes out into the world seeking answers. It seems Scorbus, the king of the dead he helped crown, is bent on waging war against the living. Can Marius find Keth and stop the king he put into power?
At the end of the Corpse Rat King, I was hoping I'd read about Marius again. Lee Battersby must have heard my prayers, as he has served up another adventure of that loveable miscreant.
The Marching Dead picks up not long after The Corpse Rat King left off. Marius' idyllic retirement is shattered and he ventures out seeking answers with sometimes hilarious results. Battersby's writing is somewhere on the Terry Pratchett-Joe Abercrombie spectrum, funny without detracting from the seriousness of the story. Here's a quote that I loved about the dead mingling with the living:
The natural order had not simply been overturned. It had been bent over a barrel and sodomized.
See what I'm talking about? There were a lot of lines of this caliber peppered throughout the text. Battersby falls right between Terry Pratchett and Joe Abercrombine on the fantasy humor spectrum.
While Marius has changed a bit from his initial outing, his fundamental tricksy nature has remained unchanged. His relationships with Keth, Bryn, and the others kept the story going. I really liked his talk with Billinor, the boy king.
The ending was a little more predictable than the ending of the Corpse Rat King but it was really the only way it could go at that point.
Four stars! When is the third book coming out, Lee?
Read an interview I did with Lee Battersby over at Shelf Inflicted
At the end of the Corpse Rat King, I was hoping I'd read about Marius again. Lee Battersby must have heard my prayers, as he has served up another adventure of that loveable miscreant.
The Marching Dead picks up not long after The Corpse Rat King left off. Marius' idyllic retirement is shattered and he ventures out seeking answers with sometimes hilarious results. Battersby's writing is somewhere on the Terry Pratchett-Joe Abercrombie spectrum, funny without detracting from the seriousness of the story. Here's a quote that I loved about the dead mingling with the living:
The natural order had not simply been overturned. It had been bent over a barrel and sodomized.
See what I'm talking about? There were a lot of lines of this caliber peppered throughout the text. Battersby falls right between Terry Pratchett and Joe Abercrombine on the fantasy humor spectrum.
While Marius has changed a bit from his initial outing, his fundamental tricksy nature has remained unchanged. His relationships with Keth, Bryn, and the others kept the story going. I really liked his talk with Billinor, the boy king.
The ending was a little more predictable than the ending of the Corpse Rat King but it was really the only way it could go at that point.
Four stars! When is the third book coming out, Lee?
Read an interview I did with Lee Battersby over at Shelf Inflicted
mxsallybend's review against another edition
4.0
It was almost a year ago that Lee Battersby completely blew me away with The Corpse-Rat King, an extremely funny, extraordinarily imaginative tale that I thoroughly enjoyed, and have gleefully recommended over and over again. I've been waiting for the follow-up almost from the moment I turned the last page, and I'm pleased to say The Marching Dead was definitely worth the wait.
In a slightly more mature sequel, Battersby eases up a bit on the slapstick and reigns in the bizarre sense of adventure, but still maintains the same imaginative literary sense of the macabre that made the first book such a success. We pick up the story of Marius dos Helles a few years later, with our reluctant hero relaxing at home with the love of his life - except, of course, for when he's shifting back into dead flesh and stealing into town for a drink. Before long, however, that boringly idyllic life is brought to a screeching halt when Keth is dragged kicking and screaming into the realm of the dead, and Marius finds himself on the wrong end of Drenthe's sword . . . again.
Cue the return of Gerd, who is given a chance to rise above his minor sidekick role to become a main character, and his Granny, who is very much dead, but still looking after her favourite boy. As Gerd explains to Marius, "We buried Granny in the village graveyard. After a week, she dug herself out and came to me for answers." I thought Gerd was underused in the first book, so it was nice to see him have a chance to shine here. Not only does he stand up to Marius and hold his own, but he sticks with the man who led him to his death, browbeating him into doing the right thing more than once. As for Granny, her sharp-witted nastiness serves as a welcome foil for both men.
Whereas the first book was all about Marius trying to find new ways to duck his responsibilities, and new (dead) people to thrust those responsibilities upon, this book is very much about him confronting his past and claiming the destiny he escape first time around - albeit reluctantly. Battersby reveals the man behind the corpse, introducing us to his parents, and providing some insight into why his life of privilege ended with him robbing corpses on a battlefield. It makes for a more sombre and serious tale, at least in parts, but the added depth is very much appreciated.
There are more than a few new characters here to love, including Brys (the sexy Pirate with the ample bosom), Fellipan (the dead sexy bordello Mistress with the ample bosom), and Arnobew (the madman with a cardboard sword). It's definitely a more well-rounded cast than in the first book, and four-sided love triangle between Marius, Keth, Brys, and Fellipan is both a lot of fun and source of surprising sorrow by the end. The visual depiction of Fellipan is about as over-the-top erotic as they come, and her personality delivers on that dangerous premise, even as she assures Marius that it's not necrophilia if they're both dead.
Once again, Battersby absolutely nails the narrative style, balancing humour and horror, fantasy and felony. It's another quick-moving, well-written story that amuses, excites, and concludes with some rather deep, and remarkably heavy musings on the subjects of life, death, and the afterlife - or the lack thereof. Some readers may be a tad offended by the nunnery to which Marius' mother has retired, having been home to "celebrated healers, whores, and the occasional holy woman," but the practicality of hedging their bets against shifts in mythology is to be admired. I wasn't quite sure where the story was headed, and I appreciated the way it kept me guessing, and managed to surprise me, without making me feel cheated.
I suspect - or maybe just desperately hope - that is not the end for Marius and Gerd but, if it is, then I can walk away with no complaints. The Corpse-Rat King and The Marching Dead make for an entirely satisfying duology, firmly establishing Marius dos Helles as one of the finest - and funniest - reluctant heroes in the history of fantasy. If you enjoyed the first one, you'll love this one too, and if you have yet to enjoy the first one . . . well, what the heck are you waiting for?
Originally reviewed at Beauty in Ruins
In a slightly more mature sequel, Battersby eases up a bit on the slapstick and reigns in the bizarre sense of adventure, but still maintains the same imaginative literary sense of the macabre that made the first book such a success. We pick up the story of Marius dos Helles a few years later, with our reluctant hero relaxing at home with the love of his life - except, of course, for when he's shifting back into dead flesh and stealing into town for a drink. Before long, however, that boringly idyllic life is brought to a screeching halt when Keth is dragged kicking and screaming into the realm of the dead, and Marius finds himself on the wrong end of Drenthe's sword . . . again.
Cue the return of Gerd, who is given a chance to rise above his minor sidekick role to become a main character, and his Granny, who is very much dead, but still looking after her favourite boy. As Gerd explains to Marius, "We buried Granny in the village graveyard. After a week, she dug herself out and came to me for answers." I thought Gerd was underused in the first book, so it was nice to see him have a chance to shine here. Not only does he stand up to Marius and hold his own, but he sticks with the man who led him to his death, browbeating him into doing the right thing more than once. As for Granny, her sharp-witted nastiness serves as a welcome foil for both men.
Whereas the first book was all about Marius trying to find new ways to duck his responsibilities, and new (dead) people to thrust those responsibilities upon, this book is very much about him confronting his past and claiming the destiny he escape first time around - albeit reluctantly. Battersby reveals the man behind the corpse, introducing us to his parents, and providing some insight into why his life of privilege ended with him robbing corpses on a battlefield. It makes for a more sombre and serious tale, at least in parts, but the added depth is very much appreciated.
There are more than a few new characters here to love, including Brys (the sexy Pirate with the ample bosom), Fellipan (the dead sexy bordello Mistress with the ample bosom), and Arnobew (the madman with a cardboard sword). It's definitely a more well-rounded cast than in the first book, and four-sided love triangle between Marius, Keth, Brys, and Fellipan is both a lot of fun and source of surprising sorrow by the end. The visual depiction of Fellipan is about as over-the-top erotic as they come, and her personality delivers on that dangerous premise, even as she assures Marius that it's not necrophilia if they're both dead.
Once again, Battersby absolutely nails the narrative style, balancing humour and horror, fantasy and felony. It's another quick-moving, well-written story that amuses, excites, and concludes with some rather deep, and remarkably heavy musings on the subjects of life, death, and the afterlife - or the lack thereof. Some readers may be a tad offended by the nunnery to which Marius' mother has retired, having been home to "celebrated healers, whores, and the occasional holy woman," but the practicality of hedging their bets against shifts in mythology is to be admired. I wasn't quite sure where the story was headed, and I appreciated the way it kept me guessing, and managed to surprise me, without making me feel cheated.
I suspect - or maybe just desperately hope - that is not the end for Marius and Gerd but, if it is, then I can walk away with no complaints. The Corpse-Rat King and The Marching Dead make for an entirely satisfying duology, firmly establishing Marius dos Helles as one of the finest - and funniest - reluctant heroes in the history of fantasy. If you enjoyed the first one, you'll love this one too, and if you have yet to enjoy the first one . . . well, what the heck are you waiting for?
Originally reviewed at Beauty in Ruins
lewis_fishman's review against another edition
5.0
Having loved 'The Corpse-Rat King', I loved its sequel just as much. The characters old and new were exciting, the plot was tight, and the humour was as dry and hilarious as the first. Now, hopefully Lee can write number 3...?
sarah1984's review against another edition
3.0
23/12 - I can't believe it's been over a year since I read The Corpse-Rat King (I also can't believe it's only a day till Christmas, but that's another story). When I saw this at the library I was sure I'd read the first book in the series earlier this year, thank goodness for GR and BL or I'd always be under-estimating how many months/years had passed since my last interaction with a particular series or author.
Not quite as hilarious a beginning as The Corpse-Rat King, but I am loving not-dead-enough Granny. She looks like she could provide a similar level of hilarity as I found in the first book. To be continued...
24/12 - I still don't get how this 'being dead' works in this world. If you don't need to breathe, eat, drink, sleep, poop, and you are 'dead' why on earth do you feel any pain? I mean, earlier in the book Granny stuck her hand inside Marius' fatal sword wound a number of times, and the only reason Marius protested was because it was weird and disgusting to see a hand stuck in his chest, not because it hurt or anything like that. So why now, does having every bone in his body broken cause another dead man to experience excruciating pain? It doesn't make any sense. To be continued...
27/12 - After a promising beginning, partially spurred on by my own expectations from the first book, I was a little disappointed with the middle and end of The Marching Dead. It just wasn't quite as funny as The Corpse-Rat King, and considering my thoughts on how high (or low, depending how you look at it) the bar was set with that book that's saying something. I mentioned loving Granny when I first started reviewing? She didn't get nearly enough one-liners and then got kidnapped for a chunk near the middle. She was definitely an underutilised character who could have provided a lot more laughs if given the chance. I really do hope, and think it would be right if, this is the last book in the series. This wasn't as good as The Corpse-Rat King and I believe that if a third book was written it would be even less funny, below three stars. Battersby should quit while he's (sort of) ahead.
Not quite as hilarious a beginning as The Corpse-Rat King, but I am loving not-dead-enough Granny. She looks like she could provide a similar level of hilarity as I found in the first book. To be continued...
24/12 - I still don't get how this 'being dead' works in this world. If you don't need to breathe, eat, drink, sleep, poop, and you are 'dead' why on earth do you feel any pain? I mean, earlier in the book Granny stuck her hand inside Marius' fatal sword wound a number of times, and the only reason Marius protested was because it was weird and disgusting to see a hand stuck in his chest, not because it hurt or anything like that. So why now, does having every bone in his body broken cause another dead man to experience excruciating pain? It doesn't make any sense. To be continued...
27/12 - After a promising beginning, partially spurred on by my own expectations from the first book, I was a little disappointed with the middle and end of The Marching Dead. It just wasn't quite as funny as The Corpse-Rat King, and considering my thoughts on how high (or low, depending how you look at it) the bar was set with that book that's saying something. I mentioned loving Granny when I first started reviewing? She didn't get nearly enough one-liners and then got kidnapped for a chunk near the middle. She was definitely an underutilised character who could have provided a lot more laughs if given the chance. I really do hope, and think it would be right if, this is the last book in the series. This wasn't as good as The Corpse-Rat King and I believe that if a third book was written it would be even less funny, below three stars. Battersby should quit while he's (sort of) ahead.
thiefofcamorr's review against another edition
Katharine is a judge for the Sara Douglass 'Book Series' Award. This entry is the personal opinion of Katharine herself, and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of any judging panel, the judging coordinator or the Aurealis Awards management team.
I won't be recording my thoughts (if I choose to) here until after the AA are over.
I won't be recording my thoughts (if I choose to) here until after the AA are over.
bent's review against another edition
2.0
Not a terrible book but beyond the premise, not that original. The story starts out light and lively but soon loses the light tone. I found some parts too earnest and other parts too cute. The protagonist is not a character that you really care that much about and the whole plot seemed a little weak and ill-conceived at times. The whole backstory with his parents and his evolving relationship with his girlfriend really provoked nothing in me beyond a "who cares?"
This is a sequel to a book that I haven't read so it's possible that if I had read the original, I might have got more out of this one. With that said, I found the book to be competent but unspectacular. A good concept that fails due to poor execution and a lack of imagination.
This is a sequel to a book that I haven't read so it's possible that if I had read the original, I might have got more out of this one. With that said, I found the book to be competent but unspectacular. A good concept that fails due to poor execution and a lack of imagination.
kateofmind's review against another edition
5.0
had a lot of love last fall for the first novel in this series, The Corpse-Rat King. So much love I almost gave it five stars. Really, the only reason I didn't was because I was pretty sure the best was yet to come.
And I was right. With this sequel, The Marching Dead, Battersby kicked up everything I loved about the first novel by a notch or two -- world-building, storytelling, hilarity, and most of all, characters who just made me punch the air over and over again, usually while laughing. Gerd, the trusty dead bumpkin sidekick on whom our hero Marius relied on last novel, comes into his own as a bona fide second hero, for one... but there's more. For instance, Gerd's newly dead Granny, who could go toe to toe with Lady Sybella and the awesome cranky biddy gang of the Lymond Chronicles, but who, ultimately, would shock them speechless with her command of bawdy songs. And Alno the dead bastard cat. And Arnobew, aka Warbone, the crazy cardboard warrior. And Marius' parents, who are both real pieces of work. And...
See what I mean, here? Generally, any book that finds me giving lists of characters in the first paragraph or two of my blog is one that has made me very, very happy.
But wait, there's more. Like plot twists that actually surprised me. Like genuinely grounding the bizarre, over-the-top story in the hero's character, past and present and making it work. Like featuring lines of dialogue like "It's not necrophilia if we're both dead" and having it feel completely natural, tasteless absurdity and all. Like a stupendously badass order of nuns with whom no sane would ever want to tangle. Really, the only way I could have been happier would have been if Battersby had managed to throw in some kind of awesome Busby Berkley cockroach scene or something. My only complaint is that, well, this seems like an awfully small world; Marius do keep running into every (impressively bosomed) woman he's ever slept with and winding up needing something from her years after leaving on messy terms.
Which is to say that, yes, I could have done without the love rhombus.
But that's a small matter, really. And it's the big matters that, well, matter. Because amid the violence and the guffaws, The Marching Dead has a thing or two to say about belief and religion, about life after death (obviously) and about responsibility, which not even Marius can run away from. There are some poignant moments between the scenes of slapstick carnage and smartassery. As there should be when the subject is death.
As soon as things look to be getting too serious, though, Battersby always comes out with a send up. Because ultimately, he seems to want to tell us, death and fear of death are laughing matters, if anything is. It's just that the joke is on us. As is the vomit, blood, other body fluids....
Battersby is one messed up dude. Delightfully so. We should all be so lucky. All the stars.
And I was right. With this sequel, The Marching Dead, Battersby kicked up everything I loved about the first novel by a notch or two -- world-building, storytelling, hilarity, and most of all, characters who just made me punch the air over and over again, usually while laughing. Gerd, the trusty dead bumpkin sidekick on whom our hero Marius relied on last novel, comes into his own as a bona fide second hero, for one... but there's more. For instance, Gerd's newly dead Granny, who could go toe to toe with Lady Sybella and the awesome cranky biddy gang of the Lymond Chronicles, but who, ultimately, would shock them speechless with her command of bawdy songs. And Alno the dead bastard cat. And Arnobew, aka Warbone, the crazy cardboard warrior. And Marius' parents, who are both real pieces of work. And...
See what I mean, here? Generally, any book that finds me giving lists of characters in the first paragraph or two of my blog is one that has made me very, very happy.
But wait, there's more. Like plot twists that actually surprised me. Like genuinely grounding the bizarre, over-the-top story in the hero's character, past and present and making it work. Like featuring lines of dialogue like "It's not necrophilia if we're both dead" and having it feel completely natural, tasteless absurdity and all. Like a stupendously badass order of nuns with whom no sane would ever want to tangle. Really, the only way I could have been happier would have been if Battersby had managed to throw in some kind of awesome Busby Berkley cockroach scene or something. My only complaint is that, well, this seems like an awfully small world; Marius do keep running into every (impressively bosomed) woman he's ever slept with and winding up needing something from her years after leaving on messy terms.
Which is to say that, yes, I could have done without the love rhombus.
But that's a small matter, really. And it's the big matters that, well, matter. Because amid the violence and the guffaws, The Marching Dead has a thing or two to say about belief and religion, about life after death (obviously) and about responsibility, which not even Marius can run away from. There are some poignant moments between the scenes of slapstick carnage and smartassery. As there should be when the subject is death.
As soon as things look to be getting too serious, though, Battersby always comes out with a send up. Because ultimately, he seems to want to tell us, death and fear of death are laughing matters, if anything is. It's just that the joke is on us. As is the vomit, blood, other body fluids....
Battersby is one messed up dude. Delightfully so. We should all be so lucky. All the stars.
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