This is the kind of science fiction novel you do not see very often any more. Elizabeth Hand has managed to combine elements of mythology and weird fiction with cybernetic SF and spiced the brew with luxuriant blossoms from the garden of the Decadents. I say it this way because people have misunderstood so much. You cannot think Anne Rice when you read Elizabeth Hand. Yes, one can identify scraps of H.P. Lovecraft, Christina Rossetti and especially Tanith Lee, but Hand is not trying to write like anyone but herself.
And I'm only midway through the first chapter.