Lit Hub/The Toronto Star ONeill is an extraordinary writer, and her new novel is exquisite. The Lonely Hearts Hotel is a feat of imagination, accomplished through the tiny, marvelous details she scatters across the page.
With all the storytelling skill and magical language for which she is known, Heather O'Neill dazzles us with a new tale of motherless gangsters, drug addicted pianists, radicalized chorus girls and a city whose economy hinges on the price of a kiss. O’Neill, always an original and enchanting storyteller, is at the height of her powers. They search for each other, and one night, under the snowflakes, they reunite, and the underworld will never look quite the same. They are separated as teenagers and sent off to work as menial servants, but both soon find themselves escaping into the criminal world, participating in the vicious and absurd and perverted underbelly of Montreal and New York City between the wars. In a landscape like this, it takes great creative gifts to thwart one’s origins. An unparalleled tale of charismatic pianos, invisible dance partners, radicalized chorus girls, drug-addicted musicians, brooding clowns, and an underworld whose economy hinges on the price of a kiss. As they are made to travel around the city performing clown routines to raise funds for the orphanage, they make plans for a sensational future. The Lonely Hearts Hotelis a love story with the power of legend.
Each display rare gifts that bring them adoration and hatred. One is a girl named Rose the other, a boy named Pierrot. Two babies are abandoned in a Montreal orphanage in the winter of 1910. From the two-time Giller Prize shortlisted author, a dazzling circus of a novel set in the seductive underside of Montreal and New York between the wars
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