" So the blurb on the back of the book had almost zero to do with the plot, which involves the Plague and the Great Fire of London, and an 18th century Satan-worshiping church builder who sacrifices children, and mysterious present day murders at those churches which may or may not be being perpetrated by a ghost... it's a deeply weird book. It's also one of those books that was clearly written for other writers. He's put together the narrative like a piece of old-fashioned clockwork, and it's breathtaking stuff. Motifs, names, events, character's gestures, they all keep clicking and whirring around and around each other, cog and teeth fitting so seamlessly it makes you feel all liquidy inside. This book also had some of the most gorgeous lines of any I've recently read. "Anxiety was, for her, a form of prayer." Oh so perfect. Which is why at the end I threw the book across the room. It had been such a perfect read until the last two chapters when... nothing happened. The characters just did one more rotation and the mechanism wound down. No real climax, no resolution, I'm not even sure what the hell happened, to be honest. "
— Sarahlizp, 1/12/2014