What's wrong with Erikson's prose?

I finally started reading "Gardens of the Moon".

Through the pallor of smoke ravens wheeled. Their calls raised a shrill chorus above the cries of wounded and dying soldiers. The stench of seared flesh hung unmoving in the haze.

On the third hill overlooking the fallen city of Pale, Tattersail stood alone. Scattered around the sorceress the curled remains of burnt armour — greaves, breastplates, helms and weapons — lay heaped in piles. An hour earlier there had been men and women wearing that armour, but of them there was no sign. The silence within those empty shells rang like a dirge in Tattersail's head.

For all the smells and sounds surrounding Tattersail, she found herself listening to a deeper silence. In some ways it came from the empty armour surrounding her, an absence that was in itself an accusation. But there was another source of the silence. The sorcery that had been unleashed here today had been enough to fray the fabric between the worlds. Whatever dwelt beyond, in the Warrens of Chaos, felt close enough to reach out and touch.

On the plain below, the bodies of Malazan soldiers covered the ground, a rumpled carpet of dead. Limbs jutted upward here and there, ravens perching on them like overlords. Soldiers who had survived the slaughter wandered in a daze among the bodies, seeking fallen comrades.

Just at page 60 as writing notes on the wiki is taking quite a bit of time. I probably read on forums and blogs more about Erikson and his series than all the words written in the first book. So I know well what to expect, the criticism and so on.

One aspect people complained about is the prose. I also found those critics often enough to believe that they are actually founded.

But I'm failing to understand what is that people don't like. I expected the writing to be more uneven and crude than what I found.