A previous fan of Poppy Z. Brite, I still praise her as a wonderfully descriptive writer. After reading this book, that's about all I can say. Her portrayal of New Orleans in every aspect actually places you in the heart of soul of this soulful city and all of it's many realms. After this, she completely falls apart.
Her characters leave little to be desired as they are dragged along hopelessly out of control of everything that they do. In the past, her portrayal of gay men was a tribute to love, yet this book is simply insulting in every perversion that that the gay life of the French Quarter has to offer. She writes of a lifestyle completely based on debauchery and filth with no redeeming value whatsoever. It's almost 300 pages of gay-bashing. Even the love story between Tran and Luke is filled with hateful events and violent addictions.
The hideous nature of the graphic descriptions of flesh eating and torture will, I'm sure, be pleasing to some people, but it left this reader with a bad taste in her mouth. Poppy, no doubt, would be ecstatic to read this review as she loves a love/hate attitude towards her writing.
All in all, I give her immense credit for increasing her writing style, but she has certainly gone far downhill in her content and subject matter. Glorifiying and making "poetry" out of cannabalistic torture set in the homosexual genre is not where she belongs, but obviously where she wants to go. Say goodbye to many of your fans Poppy, for even they cannot go down this path with you.