Somewhere between the beautiful prose and richly drawn character a novel lurks. Unfortunately, I was never able to find it. As I read I became deeply enthralled with the characters, but as in a nineteenth century Russian novel, there were too many and I had to flip pages back to determine who was whom. The language was intoxicating yet like a too fragrant flower, it became a bit tiresome and finally irritating. I so wanted this book to work because it is a rich experience, but the plot, what there is of it, never really takes hold. Will I read the first book, now that I realize this is a sequel? Probably, but not right away.