On reflection I have no idea if my reaction and yours are at all congruent, as I've never read a Liz Hand novel.
An intensity of artistic atmosphere and hothouse relationships suffused with some degree of decadence in a charmed/cursed space of time that decades after the fact everyone is still processing is one of the recurring motifs in her novels, novellas, and short stories; sometimes it comes out as horror, sometimes as nostalgia, sometimes just as sorting, and frankly even the making of divisive roman à clef art out of this period of one's life would fit into a story by Elizabeth Hand. In full disclosure, I am almost a pandemic behind on the majority of her bibliography, but my previous experience was generally enthusiastic.
no subject
An intensity of artistic atmosphere and hothouse relationships suffused with some degree of decadence in a charmed/cursed space of time that decades after the fact everyone is still processing is one of the recurring motifs in her novels, novellas, and short stories; sometimes it comes out as horror, sometimes as nostalgia, sometimes just as sorting, and frankly even the making of divisive roman à clef art out of this period of one's life would fit into a story by Elizabeth Hand. In full disclosure, I am almost a pandemic behind on the majority of her bibliography, but my previous experience was generally enthusiastic.