Written in five parts--all of them roughly a hundred pages in length--the end result felt as though it could have been greatly improved by losing one of said parts. 
 The first 'Part' of this book was exceptional. I'm not even much of a mystery/noir fan, but the writing had enough depth and effortless charm of reel me in. The gritty imagery and a deft use of metaphor had me page-turning with enthusiasm...up until shortly into the second 'Part'--from which point I struggled the rest of the way through, ultimately feeling weary and let down. 
 If I rated the individual sections of the book, it would go like this: 
 Part 1 = 4.5 Stars 
 Part 2 = 1 Star 
 Part 3 = 1.5 Stars 
 Part 4 = 1.5 Stars 
 Part 5 = 2.5 Stars 
 My first complaint would me the repeated graphic erotica, which I had no warning about ahead of time and felt added nothing to the story. I suppose the XXX material stirred in makes for an effective trick to keep some of the male readers entertained, but it only drew my attention to some glaring issues with the books emotional undertones and comprehensibility--or the lack thereof. I then realized through parts 3 and 4 that I'd never really formed any attachment to the main character...or any of the other characters, for that matter. I wanted to know what was going on, but I didn't particularly care what happened to them. For a brief moment somewhere in the last 3rd of the book it was clarified that the main character did in fact have some sort of rudimentary attachment to a woman/partner he'd cared for while in a past 'sleeve' (though not enough to feel fidelity toward her, apparently), but this wasn't fleshed out enough to ever feel authentic to me. 
 There were also certain inconsistencies that made the writing feel more forced...the fantastical lengths to which medical tech is supposed to have progressed, yet an expressed concern over disease in one of the countless discussions about 'whorehouses.' At one point, a character is speaking about her unborn child (murdered at 7 months gestation) and expressing grief, yet refers to the child exclusively as 'it.' The bleakness of humanity was given little or no reprieve, with the impression that perceived 'immortality' would result in absolute corruption on every level. 
 And then there was the not-so-subtle contempt for Catholicism interspersed throughout. An integral plot premise seemed to operate under the odd assumption that devout Catholics and prostitution would somehow be compatible. To me, that makes about as much sense as Vegetarians accepting mutton into their diet. (Note: I'm not Catholic. This would have annoyed me had the author chosen to speculatively strip-mine any particular faith for use as trite plot device. With a setting 500 years in the future, you'd think he could have had the originality to at least invent a cult to suit his purposes.) 
 I've heard Altered Carbon compared to Joss Whedon's more recent creation: Dollhouse. And I don't disagree with the assessment. I'd say it's likely he was inspired on some level by this or a similar concept. Though, I would argue that Whedon took the base concept and made it more elegant and altogether believable.