I'd been meaning to read this for years, and really expected to like it better. I'm down with dark fantasy; I don't expect (or want) nothing but sweetness, light, and happy little elves dancing a merry jig. So I didn't have a problem with the rather grim miasma that pervaded this book. But somehow it managed to rub me the wrong way, or perhaps failed to rub me the right way. The story was inventive and well told, and yet somehow left me feeling... well, very little. Perhaps I just wasn't in the mood; I'm going to keep an open mind and move on to the next in the series after a break to catch up on my current library backlog.