It makes me sad to only give an Angela Carter novel only three stars, as I expect she was one of the greater writers of the last century. The Passion of New Eve, though, is just a bit silly. It drowns in symbolism, there's not much continuity, the main character is just whisked from one situation to another, the man as a woman as a man thing is not new or interesting or revelatory or meaningful (Shakespeare was doing it). A man, turned into a woman, is subjected to the same treatment of his new gender by his old. It's not exactly an earth-shattering idea
The Passion of New Eve is self-indulgent and unsatisfying. It's fine to the follow the plot from one end to the other, but by the end the flights of fancy become ridiculous, the meaning void. It's a shame, because the first section, in the apocalyptic version of New York under subject of destruction, is brilliant.