First and foremost, The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter is a chronicle of persons. There are certainly events, some quite shocking in their significance, but they are important only in what they reveal about the characters and their relationships and are too episodic to form a significant plot. This sounds like it would be a great challenge, but I never had any difficulty finding a desire to continue onward.
The most important features of each character could probably be summed up in a few sentences, but they are far from one-dimensional. Rather, this may have the deepest, most mysterious cast of characters of anything I have ever read. McCullers tells us a great deal about Singer, Mick, and the like, but nearly every passage creates more questions than answers. I tend to think that their pasts and personalities are intentionally left vague so that we will read into them what we wish to see, just as the other central characters do to Singer in the book.
There is no indication of any physical attraction between them, but John Singer’s love for his friend Antonapoulos is surely romantic in nature. I can only hope that I love my wife so passionately. Even to the end I could not tell whether Biff Brannon wishes Mick were his daughter or lover; my best guess is both. There are further questions about Biff’s femininity, the rigor with which he keeps useless records, the reckless generosity he shows toward patrons of his cafe, and other unusual aspects of his personality. Blount raves about the evils of capitalism, yet his job seems to be one of few places where he can keep himself together. The righteous anger, shame, and disappointment that burn in Doctor Copeland are clear, but not the darkness that sometimes clouds his mind or how he intends to fulfill his one true purpose. Autobiographical Mick may be the saddest character of all, even if she is the only one with a shred of hope at the end.
Beyond the characters themselves, the book is about their relationships, chiefly each with Singer. Each feels that he can talk to Singer (who is a deaf/mute) about anything, and that Singer understands and agrees with them completely. From Singer’s point of view we find that he rarely feels that he knows anything about what they discuss, and the rare responses that he gives are always very simple. The other characters’ relationships with Singer are in a sense illusory, although he appreciates their company. How often do we hear that someone simply wants someone to listen to them? It appears McCullers believes this applies much more broadly to all of our relationships.
In spite of the theme of crushing loneliness and despair, I found reading this novel to be a joy. McCullers seems to have understood humanity quite deeply even at this young age, and she expresses herself quite aptly as long as you do not expect to have everything handed to you. If you want something to speak to your soul and make you wonder, I recommend it.