Rolling in Angst

So I just finished Jacqueline Carey's Banewreaker. (For readers of some of her other work, it's substantially less...err...risque, shall we say.) It's basically giving Lord of the Rings the Paradise Lost treatment. That is, the Sauron-analog is totally justified in his actions, his lieutenants work for him because each of them was horribly betrayed by their own people and the dark god actually keeps his promises, and the party of good guys are self-righteous hypocrites who slay everything that's vaguely different from them.

It's beautifully done, as all her work is. It's also probably the angstiest ball of angst I've read in years. Relentlessly, wallowingly angsty. With a side order of angst. And angst-sauce. Also earnest. And angsty.

I didn't think I had a limit for well-written angst, but this may well be approaching it.