Review: Dead Lions

Dead Lions, the second instalment in Mick Herron’s acclaimed Slough House series, deepens both the emotional stakes and the satirical bite introduced in Slow Horses. Herron takes what could have been a straightforward espionage caper and turns it into something far richer: a tense, darkly funny, and unexpectedly moving exploration of loyalty, failure, and institutional neglect.

The novel begins with what appears to be a natural death—an old Cold War operative found dead on a bus. But in Herron’s hands, nothing is ever that simple. The plot that unfolds is, on the surface, almost implausible in its complexity: dormant Russian sleeper agents, bureaucratic cover-ups, and interdepartmental manoeuvring that border on farce. Yet it all feels oddly believable. Herron grounds the high-stakes intrigue in painstaking procedural detail and, more importantly, in character. However unlikely the wider conspiracy may seem, the human motivations driving it—career preservation, pride, fear, resentment—are entirely convincing.

That truly distinguishes Dead Lions is the realism of its characters. The disgraced agents of Slough House are not glamorous operatives but bruised professionals nursing past mistakes. Their reactions to stress feel painfully authentic: frayed tempers, flashes of pettiness, gallows humour, and moments of genuine courage emerging almost in spite of themselves. When one of their own dies, the response is neither melodramatic nor stoically heroic. Instead, Herron shows grief in awkward silences, misdirected anger, and a stubborn determination to uncover the truth. The emotional fallout reverberates through the team, lending the narrative weight and texture. These are people who feel the cost of their work.

Central to the audiobook’s success is the superb narration by Sean Barrett. Barrett’s performance captures Herron’s tonal balancing act perfectly. His rendering of Jackson Lamb is a particular triumph, by turns slovenly, sardonic, and razor-sharp, while the other members of Slough House are given distinct, lived-in voices. Barrett excels at conveying subtext; a slight pause or change in cadence suggests volumes about a character’s internal state. During moments of tension or grief, he resists overstatement, allowing the emotional truth of the scene to emerge naturally. The result is an immersive listening experience that heightens both the humour and the pathos.

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Review: Slow Horses

Slow Horses by Mick Herron is a sharply observed, darkly funny espionage novel that refreshingly strips away the glamour often associated with the spy genre. Set in the unglamorous backwater of Slough House, the story follows a group of disgraced intelligence officers who feel painfully real rather than heroic. Herron’s greatest strength lies in his realism: the bureaucracy, pettiness, and professional paranoia of modern intelligence work are rendered with convincing detail, making the stakes feel grounded even when the plot turns dramatic.

The novel’s gritty style suits this world perfectly. Herron’s prose is lean, cynical, and often bitingly witty, capturing both the moral ambiguity and the everyday drudgery of the job. The characters, from the bitter, slovenly Jackson Lamb to his damaged but capable subordinates, are thoroughly believable. Their flaws aren’t cosmetic; they drive the narrative and shape the choices they make, lending the story emotional weight as well as tension.

Particularly impressive is the narration, which balances suspense with dry humor and keeps the pacing tight without sacrificing depth. Herron knows when to linger on character and when to push the plot forward. Overall, Slow Horses is an intelligent, engaging novel that rewards readers looking for espionage fiction rooted in realism rather than fantasy.

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