Here is another review.
Victorians didn't want to hear the truth that Faber so robustly reveals: that their own attitudes toward women and sex warped the human beings of their day, male and female, into even more grotesque shapes than they ordinarily take. But there is no preaching here, only an exquisite, heartbreaking sympathy, even for the confused and monstrous character of William Rackham.
Sympathy for all characters, without sentimentalising evil. That's the key to a decent multi-character novel I think. This one is a worthy successor to Georges Ellliot, Gissing, Meredith and the rest.