The Habitation of the Blessed is a gorgeous, weeping kaleidoscope of heresy, and it was exactly what I needed to get me out of a brief reading funk. I already have the sequel on-hand (and can't wait to help make the third book a reality next year), but I'm going to wait just a moment before continuing in this world, because, as so often is the case with Valente, the prose is so rich and beautiful that it leaves me stunned and wallowing like Hiob. I don't know why I let this sit so long on my to-be-read pile, but it feels like discovering a bit of treasure in an otherwise familiar setting.