Tag Archives: Mash-Ups

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Dreadfully Ever After, by Steve Hockensmith

photo via Quirk Books

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, the monster mash-up that started it all back in 2009, has inspired an entire sub-genre of literary classics (and the lives of the writers who penned them) that have been infiltrated by the dark side. Now, after a New York Times Best Seller prequel (Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Dawn of the Dreadfuls), Quirk Books delivers the actual chronological sequel to the original mash-up, in Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Dreadfully Ever After.

The beginning of Dreadfully Ever After picks up the story of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy four years after the original mash-up ends. The zombies (or as they’re referred to in polite Regency society: the dreadfuls, the unmentionables, the sorry stricken, or the zed words) are still terrorizing the country, but finding herself now the wife of a respectable gentleman, Elizabeth has hung up her katana and throwing stars to lead a life of quiet wedded bliss. It would seem, however, that our favorite kung fu couple are experiencing a problem of their own in the form of Elizabeth’s unshakeable, unplaceable discontent. Deep into a long walk and serious discussion, the pair run into a boy from the estate and fail to notice the “odd tilt to the boy’s head and the gray palor of his skin and the smell of death and feculence that drifted with him onto the road.” Consequently, Mr. Darcy is bitten and infected.

The warrior within dictates that Elizabeth should promptly behead her beloved and burn the remains. Instead she turns to her nemesis and Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, one of the most renowned zombie slayers in the country. We learned in the first book that Lady Catherine was working on developing an antidote to the evil plague. To help save her nephew (in spite of the fact that he once spurned her strange, sickly daughter), she sends grief-stricken Elizabeth, still-silly Kitty Bennet and a happily wife-free Mr. Bennet to a dreadful-infested London and the source of the fabled cure. Mary Bennet, unwilling to be left out of the excitement, shows up in London to join in the fray.

Add an eccentric, fiery tempered Scotsman with access to the cure and his handsome, idiotic dandy son to the cast, along with a mysterious Man in a Box, a couple of mangy dogs, a sneaky ninja with an eye for Kitty and a very important bunny, and you’ve got Dreadfully Ever After.

The story lines—both the Bennet family’s quest for the cure and the intrigue abounding back at the residence of Lady Catherine, where Darcy is being held, er, healed by his aunt and creepy cousin—moved at a clipping pace. Dreadfully Ever After spotlights characters who were previously thrust into the shadows, as Anne de Bourgh has a pivotal role in the book. I also really enjoyed the development of Mary and Kitty as they each broke from the static, typecast roles thrust upon them in the original, the mash-up and its prequel. I was impressed with how author Steve Hockensmith went beyond simply writing a goofy, fun monster mash-up to including actual character development and ending the book on, dare I say, a didactic note? I won’t give away the ending, but I will say it was one with an unmistakable moral lesson.

The creativity with which Hockensmith built up a Regency London society plagued with dreadfuls had me giggling, snorting and oversharing with my poor mother, who has absolutely no interest in anything dark or, well, dreadful. But as a die-hard snobby Brit-lit enthusiast, even she was chuckling at some of the excerpts I read aloud. For example, the book opens with Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, back-to-back, surrounded by a herd of recently unearthed unmentionables. “As his beloved Elizabeth shattered the nearest zombie’s skull with a perfectly placed axe kick, Fitzwilliam Darcy saw in her eyes something that had been missing for a long, long time: joie de vivre… Although one couldn’t say the creatures had joie de vivre, both joie and vivre being long beyond them, they were undeniably enthusiastic in their quest for succulent flesh.” Such little quips are sprinkled heavily throughout the narrative, making the book much more light-hearted than your average zombie infestation.

Bottom line: The newest book in a well-established series, Dreadfully Ever After, is undeniably fun, well-written and engaging. I definitely recommend it, even if you’re not typically a reader of zombie lore.


Literary Monsters: Shakespeare Undead vs. Jane and the Damned

I was in the library the other day, picking something up for my mom and trying to keep my itchy fingers from grabbing yet another book to read (after all, I’m still trying to finish Jane Eyre and Red Riding Hood before their March 11 movie release date! Not to mention the 20 other books on my goodreads.com to-read shelf…), but I couldn’t help myself when I came across Shakespeare Undead, by Lori Handeland (St. Martin’s Griffin) and then Jane and the Damned, by Janet Mullany (Avon, HarperCollins). Is this a new genre emerging? Literature legends meet the undead? I had to check them out. Sorry Jane Eyre.

Shakespeare Undead

photo via amazon.com

The story opens in London, 1592, with an unknown narrator stalking and killing a zombie in the dark streets, then mistakenly slicing the neck of a man who’d startled the narrator by coming to his/her aid. The playful, humorous writing style hooked me from the beginning. (“I call them the tibonage. You’d call them zombies. Yes, they exist. All over the damn place.”) I want to be fair in this review because there were some great things about the book. Handeland has a great voice to her writing, which she carries consistently throughout the story. It’s a fast-paced book and it was fun to read. But it did have some “oh come on… really?” moments that I’m going to do my best to explain below.

At some points in the book, I felt like I was reading a story in which zombies and vampires and ghosts had invaded the movie Shakespeare in Love, and it bothered me because I wanted Handeland’s fun story and vivid characters to stand on their own. The love of Shakespeare’s post-life (oh btw, Shakespeare is a vampire who sees dead people) turns out to be a married woman, bound to a husband she doesn’t love who has a plantation in Virginia. She disguises herself as a boy to moonlight as a zombie hunter and that’s how she first meets Shakespeare (who I couldn’t help but picture as Joseph Fiennes, yum). And even the Queen herself (featured in a climactic scene at the end) seems to have stepped straight from the silver screen.

Joseph Fiennes made an appearance in my mind's eye for this Shakespearean mash-up. (photo via http://www.imdb.com)

Another thing that interrupted the fun, fast-paced action takes a little explaining. Shakespeare, as an immortal vampire, is supposed to have written many great works from various personas over the course of history. The narrative, then, is interrupted here and there by moments of distraction, in the form of ideas for future works. Alluding to other future works of this undead person (for example, “Will’s brain tingled. I see dead people. The voice of a child. Where had that come from? The usual place, Will’s overactive imagination. But what if there were a child who saw dead people, as Will had?…”) is kind of fun at some points, but at other times trips the flow of the narrative and is more distracting and corny than cute.

Bottom line: Shakespeare Undead was a fun, witty story about love and zombies that reminded me a lot of a movie I like. It had its corny moments that took away from the story, but I still somehow managed to make it through the book in record time.

Jane and the Damned

photo via tlcbooktours.com

What I thought would be the sillier of the two books was actually the one I enjoyed more. When reading Jane and the Damned, I felt much more in-tune with the main character’s setting than I had with Shakespeare Undead, and it had a much stronger plotline.

The story opens with the rejection of a manuscript and our as-yet-unpublished heroine, Jane Austen, attending a country dance with her sister and a friend. To the horror and delight of the girls, the dance is attended by some of London’s illustrious Damned. (“…in London the Damned of the ton gambled and whored and scandalized decent folk…”) Jane catches the eye of one of the svelte creatures and her witty banter leaves him wanting more. So much more that he drains her and, feeling slightly guilty, gives her the gift of rebirth… as a vampire.

So the story begins. Jane, horrified to discover what she has become, confides in her father, who takes the whole family to Bath, as the waters of Bath are said to be the only thing that can cure Jane’s new affliction. While she is there, she meets a vampire who, intent on changing her mind about her condition, does his best to talk her out of it. He almost fails when French forces attack the small city.

Events unfold and Jane is drawn deeper into the world of the vampires as they try to drive the French from the city. Underneath that plot arc is Jane’s desire for Luke, the vampire who takes her under his wing, versus her ache to go back to her family and her life of writing, which she just can’t seem to get interested in as a fanged fiend.

I won’t tell you how it ends (I suggest you read it for yourself to find out), but I will tell you this much, I was glad to find that this was only the first book of a series because business, my friends, was not finished.

While Jane and the Damned was not as lighthearted as I thought it would be, it was also a fun read. The only thing I found frustrating was one particularly confusing battle scene. It felt as if parts were left out and jarred me out of the otherwise well-written storyline.

Bottom line: Jane and the Damned had all the things I like: believable historical context, likable characters, a plotline that kept my attention and was written in a style that allowed me to feel sympathetic of the characters when it was appropriate. I am looking forward to the next one!