I adore Charles Lint, Newford, all the characters that fill it - everything about his world.
I just think sometimes the "magic" of his writing is a little hit and miss. Unfortunately this was the case with Memory and Dream. Parts of it mesmerised, and these parts I would happily give five full stars and claim perfection. Other parts felt overly preachy, tell not show, this is what you should feel because people are awful etc etc.
Still, the perfect moments are there, the plot is interesting and the descriptions of art are so deliciously evocative that I am now torn between despair at my lack of patience with oils, and desire to run straight to my studio and paint and paint and paint.