The Corpse War of 1793 follows a British soldier whose regiment is sent into Norfolk to confront rumors of walking corpses, only to find military discipline, courage, and conscience collapsing under the weight of an undead catastrophe. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?

As both a military historian of the late 18th century and a big fan of horror and zombie media, it seemed like a pretty natural fit for my debut into fiction writing!  While there are a few examples of broadly similar settings (“Pride and Prejudice and Zombies” comes to mind) these tend to read more as parodies and ‘over the top’ stories of cool characters doing ‘cool’, violent things to hordes of the undead.  In fact, that seems to be what most zombie media is regardless of its setting!  But, that has never been what interested me with the zombie genre.  When you think about the what a zombie really is, then what we so often portray as mindless, gore-filled ‘fun’ ought to be an exceedingly tragic, disturbing, and serious affair!  After all, the risen corpse that is trying to bite your head off isn’t just a faceless ‘other’, it is your former neighbour, friend, or loved one.  Very little media delves into the psychological and social implications of such horrors, and, I wanted to write a story that would give zombies the gravitas and genuine horror, not just scares, they deserve.

In much the same way, while there stands no shortage of media exploring the horrors and privations of modern warfare, the early modern military world very rarely receives the same treatment.  But just because the soldiers were wearing colourful uniforms and marching to drums didn’t make their service any easier! Just because early modern soldiers lacked our modern cultural and scientific framework for understanding trauma doesn’t mean they didn’t experience it.  Indeed, looking at their writings, their trauma so often jumps off the page, if you know how to look for it.  So, it seemed appropriate to combine these two passions of mine, to explore these themes in depth and create a piece of media that I had always wished existed.  Ultimately, while the story is totally (blessedly!) fictional, it is intended to reflect a series of very real problems that faced early modern soldiers.

The novel uses period diction, illustrations, a glossary, and mock-historical framing. How did you balance authenticity with readability for modern readers?

Less balancing was needed than you may think!  The memoirs, journals, and letters of soldiers from this time period are already fairly accessible, and enjoyable reads.  Over the last ten years, I’ve also spent far more time reading those sorts of books than I have modern writing!  Alongside just genuinely enjoying the style, I wrote my story in this somewhat archaic fashion to introduce more people to those primary sources.  If you’ve enjoyed “The Corpse War”, I’ve little doubt you would also enjoy “The Recollections of Rifleman Harris” and similar works.

The military procedures and battlefield details feel central to the horror. How much research went into the regimental life, weaponry, and tactics of the period?

A great deal, and none at all!  As a public historian and historical re-enactor, I’ve been working specifically with the history of the British army from 1764 to 1815 for a very long time. Consequently, a great deal of the information, from the basics of command structures and camp life to the flow of a battle, is all quite familiar to me.  I was able to lean on this background when writing the book, regularly refreshing myself by glancing through the likes of Cuthbertson’s “Interior Oeconomy of a Battalion of Infantry” or Lewis Lochee’s “Elements of Field Fortification”.  Ultimately, of course, the most important research was reading the memoirs and journals of soldiers and officers from this time period.

What drew you to portraying the undead not just as monsters, but as a crisis of empire, obedience, and conscience?

Like I’ve described above, I think that the zombie genre has so much more to offer than merely an excuse to bash in heads in gory excess.  Their very nature, as with so many other classic monsters, has an extraordinary potential to explore meaningful themes.  In this case, the undead forced the book’s inexperienced narrator to face the most grim and privative elements of military life, wherein he is not the hero of his story but merely a single piece of a much wider, and much crueller, tale.  His suffering does not always have great personal meaning, but is at times necessarily imposed by the institutions around him in order to attain a greater goal.  There is no sense to the terrors he witnesses, nor do the virtues of heroism and courage in the face of adversity always end happily.  But, I don’t want to go into any more specifics, lest I spoil things!

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