This book is living proof that it takes more than good prose stylings to produce a novel, and that when you add one of every spice the resulting stew tastes mostly just brown. Spoilers follow, but honestly you shouldn't read the book anyway.
It's a book which has a down at the heels stage magician detective, a mysterious mute (the titled Sonambulist) who does not bleed when stabbed and drinks only milk, an albino... and a zillion other things... and makes use of almost none of them. The mysterious mute? Still mysterious by the end, we learn nothing about him despite the fact that he's the sidekick of the main character (the magician). Character development? None. Narrator revealed in a twist? Yes, he turns out the be the villian!... and it's boring as hell. Plot to destroy the city? Check, but we don't care about it. Zombie Coleridge? Yep. Yawn. Demonic assassins? Wait, why were they even added? What do they bring? Bleh. Also there's a man living backward through time. Sort of. Does he add anything to the story? No.
I give this book one star for being able to put a sentence together well, but rest assured the author won't do anything with it.