Except when it was too didactic/naively philosophical, I was completely sucked in. The details were never unbelievable, the dialogue, choices of slang, exotic subcultural references never incorrect. The reader will be convinced that the author's research required her to spend time as a suicidal, drug-using, depressed, criminal. And if she suffered for it, we fully appreciate her for going through with it.

In the midst of characters who forget their limitations, there are many moments of absolute perfection. They called pssst to me from the dark alley that I didn't think Hobie should be using as a metaphor. Boris, maybe. Or even Theo. But the uniqueness of the experience of beauty in the varying eyes of the various beholders along with the seeming simultaneous universality of the messages, except where they are only available to some of the people some of the time, is a true contradiction. And it's all expressed (when it is) in a way that makes it a discovery, rather than a foregone conclusion.