When We Lost Our Heads (2024)

When We Lost Our Heads has a similar quality to it as when Marie Antoinette purportedly said, “Let them eat cake.” Is it a coincidence that one of the main characters is named Marie Antoine? I don’t know, but I like it.

This novel is set in 1873 Montreal and follows two young girls who form an intense friendship that quickly implodes after a deadly accident.

Twelve-year-old Marie Antoine is adored and loved by everyone around her. Her mother died when she was very young, so her doting father has made it his mission to give her whatever she wishes. She knows she will one day be in charge of the sugar factory that she is the face of and that her father operates.

Twelve-year-old Sadie Arnett and her family are new to the wealthy neighbourhood of The Golden Mile. Her family has little wealth, but believe their new home will advance them politically and socially. From a young age, Sadie observed that her family placed all their attention and hopes of raising their social status on her brother Phillip. Perhaps because of their neglect, Sadie shows an interest in all things dark. Her first memory is throwing herself off a cliff. She finds joy in drowning kittens. She spends her time writing material that others would consider shocking.

When the two girls meet, everything else around them disappears. They love each other deeply, but they also feel intensely envious of one another. Their jealousy culminates in the pair often competing against each other. One such competition turns deadly, which inevitably forces the girls apart.

Throughout their lives, they will still feel connected in a way they do to no other. Set against the backdrop of the Industrial Revolution, extravagant wealth contrasts against the impoverished working class.

This novel masterfully tackles gender inequality, gender identity, sexuality and class.

Twisted, decadent, gauche, lavish are all words that describe this literary delight. The characters are not always likeable, but they are utterly fascinating.

My favourite parts of this novel were the girls growing up and discovering themselves. Around the midpoint, I found it slowed down a tad. The pace picked up again in the last quarter with its initial grandiosity and ended with a bang.

I don’t know what Heather O’Neill’s other books are like, but I will for sure be checking them out now.

I recommend this to readers that like morally grey characters and to those wanting a dark yet wonderfully absurd coming-of-age tale.

CW: sexual assault.

Thank you to HarperCollins Canada for providing an arc via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

https://booksandwheels.com

When We Lost Our Heads is the perfect title for this story of female revolution; after all, when women assert their power in any way, they’re often dismissed as crazy. Bawdy and feminist, Heather O’Neill’s most recent novel explores what it’s like to be a woman of various origins during the Industrial Revolution in Montreal. It starts in 1873, with a duel on the grounds of a mansion owned by the wealthiest family on the Golden Mile. The duelers are twelve-year-old girls, whose chemistry fuels the story. Assuming their guns unloaded, they accidentally kill a maid.

One of these girls is the heir of the mansion, the tongue-in-cheek-named Marie Antoine, (whose name works, too, for the factory-filled neighborhood of Sainte-Marie, which she inherits and rules); the other, Sadie Arnett, the outcast daughter of a political climber. Neither girl experiences any real connection until they meet, and then with magnetic force, attract and repel one another. Before then, Marie flits through the obsequious masses she calls friends, devouring admiration that never fills, and Sadie isolates inside books, deeming no one unique enough to be worth her time. Like in O’Neill’s, The Lonely Hearts Hotel, the main characters are separated for years, until they meet again as young adults.

As the story separates, it makes room for the less privileged: George (Georgina Danton), born ugly, raised in a brothel and earning her keep by caring for the whor*s, she prefers to be assumed a man; Mary Robespierre, an ambitious factory worker with a grudge big enough to fuel a revolution; and Jeanne-Pauline Marat, a woman who provides power in the potions she sells. These fictional names recall The French Revolution, with a feminine and literary twist.

“People became free in literature first. It was through books that new ideas entered the general population.”

Each woman in the story is too strong to accept a world run by men, yet is forced to vie with one another for power, and the result is the constant push-pull of emotional currents without a dull moment. O’Neill skillfully weaves the personal with the political in a web of love and rage, filling each woman’s fate till it brims over into the city.

Usually, when I first read a new-to-me author, nothing compares to the initial discovery, regardless of the book. In O’Neill’s case, I experienced the opposite. I enjoyed the unsentimental grit of Lullabies for Little Criminals, bringing me to read The Lonely Hearts Hotel. That one was so quirky and contained so much heart, that I read this soon after. Here, O’Neill outdoes herself with the same quirkiness and fullness of emotion, by adding a slice of Montreal history and the political plight of women. I found the main characters, Marie and Sadie, deliciously unlikeable, yet deeply sympathetic. Mary was fun to hate, yet understandable, and George was downright lovable. None behaved like victims.

There was a point towards the end that got a little messy, then tightened again, but overall, this was an absorbing and exciting read. Warning: lots of female political outrage and ribaldry.

I finished this novel with an audible gasp, after panting, all week, in a feverish hurry to get to the end, so that I may buy my own copy, next time, and read it all over again.

I pride myself on my ability to recognize great works of fiction, not out of arrogance, but out of an uncorrupted desire to support truly exceptional authors, and celebrate the boldness of artists who set out to create ART, not tales of morality.

This novel promotes neither morality, nor debauchery; it is art, created by an artist, and it is devastating, inflammatory, triggering, and outrageous.

This is an historical work, written in modern times (published in 2022) by Canadian author, Heather O'Neill, who, it turns out, is the same age that I am. When I looked up her bio, after finishing the book, I cackled with glee. I knew this wasn't the work of a maiden, and I stand aside, with pride, to bow to this queen.

I am both reflective and overjoyed this evening, filled with a deep sense of satisfaction that our world has not yet given up on the creative vision of the individual artist nor the communal effort of a publishing house, like this one, that is still committed to producing work that doesn't kowtow to political correctness.

There is nothing about this novel that is politically correct, and I can NOT recommend it more than I do.

I am flummoxed; I am fit to bursting. . .

I am running through the streets of Montreal, my past illumined by the fires set behind me, the intricate patterns woven by my own shadows guiding the path before me. . .

To be alive is to be in a constant state of revolution.

Delectable, yet grotesque. Straightforwardly written, yet loaded with nuance. Filled with powerful emotion and sexual energy. An exquisite book.

Click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!

The new silhouette was mature and stately. It was more beautiful than the previous one. Sadie wanted the silhouette to turn her head and explain herself. She leaned forward and pulled the bag to her. It was as though she were holding Marie’s head in her hands, but Marie refused to look her in the eye.

Every mother engages in an act of parenting they know isn’t a great idea. They allow something to slide. And this is the thing that causes the child to develop a personality and also all their worst inclinations and predispositions and habits. The mother’s neglect seals the child’s doom. Thus, we can safely blame all crimes on mothers.

Every decent friendship comes with a drop of hatred. But that hatred is like honey in the tea. It makes it addictive.

There was much intriguing imagery this time around involving puppets:

• A group of bats flew past the window of the brothel, as though they were shadow puppets who had escaped a child’s wall.

• Madame was an older woman who wore a burgundy dress with an enormous skirt and a tight bonnet on her head. It was a mystery what might be found underneath her large skirt. One might imagine if she lifted it, there would be a small puppet theater underneath, where all the puppets were having delirious sex.

• They danced like they had no feet but were swinging around as though they were two swirling puppets in the hands of a careless puppeteer.

• The mansion was surrounded by a thick bed of beautifully kept pink roses. They were like ballerinas taking a break and sitting down in their tutus.

• She found the violin, took it out of the case, and tried playing a note on it. It sounded like a black cat who was on the gallows confessing to all the bad luck it had caused.

• The moon was full. It looked like a breast engorged with milk because of all the babies crying in the night.

The clouds were puffy and large like the foam at the top of a glass of beer. Marie had never seen the sea before. She stretched her arms out toward it. There was a large brass band playing as she ran about collecting seashells. A musician held a French horn to his head that looked like the ear of an elephant pricking up to hear a sound. Marie stood in the sea. She ran after the waves in her bare feet. The sea changed its mind about retreating. It turned around and came after her. The sand on the beach tried to hold on to the impression of her footprints for as long as possible after she left. She screamed when the water hit her ankles. It was colder than the snow in Canada. It had the feel of bottles striking up against her ankles. She kept looking down to see if there were bottle messages from Sadie. But there was nothing there but the pain the ocean caused. Then seaweed grabbed at her ankles as though mermaids were casting their nets to catch her.

Humorous books were often the most subversive ones. People became free in literature first. It was through books that new ideas entered the general population.

SPOILER ALERT!

This had potential… which was sadly unrealised. Another author with whom I have a very hot and cold relationship. In this case, more cold than hot. Indeed, Lullabies for Little Criminals is still an all time favourite of mine (and not just because lime green is my favourite colour!), but not so much most of what has come since.

There are so many things I didn’t enjoy about this title, but my biggest problem was that it is so slow and boring. Almost the entire novel is the narrator running on and on - they did this, they did that, they thought this, they thought that. And while there is some interesting use of imagery and metaphor, for the most part the writing is pretty mundane. Every action, every thought, every important message that the author wants to drive home is ‘dictated’ to me by the narrator. Writing 101: Show, don’t tell. The narration is flat, abrupt, dispassionate… remote… and it serves to keep the reader at a distance.

Given how unlikeable the two main characters - Marie and Sadie - are, they needed all the help they could get to make the reader warm to caring enough to read their story. Not that protagonist’s have to be likeable… but… where they aren’t there had better be a riveting story and snappy pace to build tension and interest the reader. There is none of the above here. Indeed, so much of what transpires is so predictable, and the breadcrumbs - where they exist - are the size of croutons. There is no dramatic tension here... Everything is telegraphed well in advance.

From the title to the character names - Marie Antoine (Antoinette), (the Marquis de) Sad(i)e, Louise Antoine (Leon de Saint Just), Mary (Maximillian/Marie) Robespierre, Pauline Marat (Jean-Paul), Georgina (Georges) Danton - it’s all too ‘clever’ and so very heavy handed. Yes, we get that the industrial revolution ‘turned people into cogs’ and that there was ‘revolution’ in the air… it doesn’t require that every major character be named for a real player in the French Revolution. This is just one of numerous examples of ways in which events feel forced, contrived. One that particularly irked me was ‘giving’ a chapter - right at the very end - to George - and titling it ‘A Room of One’s Own.’ With (I think) one other exception - also given over to George - the entirety of the narration focuses on Marie and Sadie. This goes beyond homage…. And insults the intelligence of the reader… I got it already.

Then there is the last almost 20 of pages (give or take) - everything that comes after Marie’s funeral - that is absolutely unnecessary. Besides that it wraps everything up in a bow - I so don’t need that - it is just a massive info-dump on the part of the author.

I don’t argue that there is a great story here… I take issue with the way in which it has been told.

Thanks to the publisher and Edelweiss for granting access to an early digital ARC.

“Every decent friendship comes with a drop of hatred. But that hatred is like honey in tea. It makes it addictive.”

Move over, enormous pile of books I’ve been meaning to read, the new Heather O’Neill novel has arrived! I wonder sometimes if books get jealous of how much attention other books are getting; in which case, most of my library would probably roll it’s eyes at the Heather O’Neill corner incessantly… See, she is an author for whom I will not wait for the paperback to come out, I will just want to hold a copy of it in my hands as soon as I can. I love her characters who are so flawed and so full of love and dreams, I love the way she turns my city into a glittery but dirty fairy tale landscape and I love the way she rips me apart with her stories. O’Neill is a romantic, but she is also a sensualist, and her books capture an irresistible overlap of ethereal dreams and earthly desires.

Two little girls grow up in the Golden Mile, an opulent neighborhood in Montreal; while they are neighbors, they could not be more different. Marie is a golden girl, only daughter of widowed Louis Antoine, who loves his child so much that he indulges her every whim, and has had her portrait printed on every bag of sugar that leaves his large factory. Sadie Arnett is the raven-haired, youngest of two in a family of political social climbers, who hope that her friendship with the little mademoiselle Antoine will help them. Unfortunately, a violent incident forces the families to separate the little girls, but distance will only strengthen their longing for each other. In parallel, Louis’ love child, Mary, hatches a plan to exact revenge on those who derailed her life when she was too young and powerless to do anything about it.

When you pick up a book by Heather O’Neill, you have to expect sex, cats, magic, violence, whimsy, intoxication and an underlying feminist commentary that manages to never be didactic – but stays sufficiently graphic for you to understand the suffering splattered on the page. This book is probably her most overtly feminist work yet, as her heroines are not equipped to meet their time’s definition of respectable women.

“The female body was particularly absorbent when it came to shame. If you wrung out any woman’s body, you would discover it was soaked in shame.”

There are multiple and obvious references to the French Revolution and its prominent actors, which can give you little hints as to where things are headed if you are familiar with that slice of history. Marie Antoine and her father Louis, Sadie Arnett, Mary Robespierre, George Danton, Jeanne-Pauline Marat… I appreciate those little winks at certain historical figures and their mystique, which are well integrated in this very different setting of the Gilded Age. O’Neill has known poverty, and she has learnt perseverance and resilience, which she breathes into her characters, but her past books did not make the statement that this one does about inequality – and women’s power.

I’m not sure this is a perfect novel, but its gorgeously written, moving and fascinating, with a satisfying and thought-provoking ending. A must read for fans of the author’s previous work, and a stunning place to start if you are not familiar with Ms. O’Neill.

Definitely my favorite novel of my first few days of 2023!
Happy New Year to all ya book-people!! 🎉

Heather O’Neill brings some interesting distinguishing energy between conventional and nonconventional.
The overall aura of this novel felt crafty and cunning;
crushing and seductive…..
with ‘prose-marvels’ on every page.

This would be a terrific book club pick (even a great film).
To chitchat specifics with a discussion group could only enhance one’s reading experience.
[friendships, society, women, freedom, competition, jealousy, beauty, morality, tragedy, wealth & poverty, oppression, harassment, violence, grotesque injustice…etc]

As another reviewer said so eloquently….”it’s penned with equal parts arsenic-laced icing and blood”.

Deliciously- dazzling fun - twisted and perverse….
It’s ‘also’ quite serious in matters of what matters most in life.

A couple of my favorite excerpts… (there are more that could easily be included)

“They imagined horrific sexual things happening to me. They think they can humiliate me with their wretched imaginations. Let them come. Let them get outraged. It’s the price of doing business. If I didn’t have any enemies, I could only consider my time on Earth an abject failure”.

“Once a parent is dead, you find yourself, recalling the advice they gave you. Remember ways, you disappointed them, with a full awareness that you will never be able to make things, right”.

I’m left looking forward to dive into another novel by the great stylist, Heather O’Neill

This book is just... It’s EVERYTHING I have EVER wanted from a book. I knew I’d love it because I adore Heather O’Neill but I had no idea that I’d love it so much that it would become a contender for my favourite book not only of the year but one of my favourite books EVER! It might be classified as a slow burn but it was absolutely riveting and I never felt like I wanted the pace to pick up, a slow burn was perfect for this story. I was hooked from start to finish and I couldn’t put the book down, I had a deep burning desire to find out how it would turn out. I really couldn’t have loved this book more, it had everything I love in a novel and heaps more, so many things about it were fascinating. My favourite part by far was the characters. Marie and Sadie are a spectacular duo and I revelled in getting under their skin. I saw myself in Sadie so much that it was quite startling at times, she truly came alive for me and became a kindred spirit. I felt like I truly KNEW her and she’ll forever be a part of me now. Not only were our two main characters amazing but the whole cast was just so beautifully written and each of them was so unique and such an essential part of this dark and sprawling story. And then the cherry on the sundae was the queerness and feminism and sexual acceptance that was such a prominent part of the story. Scratch that, those things WERE the story. Without the queer feminist sexual energy this book wouldn’t exist and it’s just absolutely breath taking. I can feel the gushing starting and my sentences running together but that’s just the state this book has left me in! I want to scream it from the rooftops and buy a million copies of it and shove it into everyone’s hands and demand more queer feminist fiction like this because it is a life changing read that everybody needs to experience. I could ramble on and on but just shut up, buy the book and come talk to me about it after you’ve devoured it.

She wished there was a book everyone would read that delved into the way ordinary women lived. And how they were mistreated by everyone. How they were having their right to be happy exploited by the rich. A book about how women were exploited by their husbands. And their families. And society at large. How all girls were preyed upon, how a girl's talents were so unfulfilled and undermined in society. page 311 of hardcover edition

Fellow readers, When We Lost Our Heads is that book. I know my 5 star rating is coming on the heels of another 2023 5 star read. But they're in two different genres and it's been a while since my reading experience left me so emotional.

This was my first Heather O'Neill read and I swear it won't be the last. Oh my goodness, this Montreal author can write in a way that had me in awe. I love to write but I wish I wrote like that. I will say that this is a book about women, from the perspective of 19th century women in the city of Montreal and it's written by a woman of the 21st century.

There are despicable acts committed in this book that are realistic of the time period and yet there are some surprising turns in the plot. I am being vague on purpose as it best to just go in blind. The book description makes one believe this is just about two young girls-Marie Antoine and Sadie. Although they hold most of the narrative power, I walked away also thinking about Agatha, the nameless maids, Mary Robespierre, George and all the other named and unnamed women of this time period.

I could babble on about this book for the rest of the year. Hands down a favorite of 2023

Goodreads review published 20/04/23

i will genuinely be SHOCKED if this isn’t my favorite book of the year

It was as though she was finally getting tired of the author’s writing style…

5 brilliant stars!

“I was looking at femininity as an agent of terror,” O’Neill says. “Girls being girls.”

What a fabulous work of fiction set in Montreal, Canada!

I’m surprised that this book is not more popular. Perhaps I could blame on its cover.

I confess that I don’t know why I purchased a copy, as none of my friends have read this one, but I’m so glad that I decided to read it. Perhaps I bought it because I love historical fiction, especially if it presents strong female characters.

I was hooked from the beginning and I did not want to put it down.

The author did a terrific job recreating a historical world of the late 19th century in a fascinating and highly entertaining way.

I loved its structure and the development of the storyline.

I loved how female-driven this novel is.

As another reviewer said so well, this novel sends a strong message about femininity and the power of women, and raises questions about gender, sexuality, classism and friendship.

The characters are strong and unforgettable, and (most of the times) not very likeable.

The pacing is not very consistent. There are some parts that are very slow, but I didn’t mind because I was enjoying the writing.

There is definitely a lot of telling and not showing, but it worked for me. And I loved the twists!

Sadie’s character reminded me very much of the movie “Quills”, about Marquis de Sade, a movie that I absolutely loved in 2000 (such great casting!).

For animal lovers, there is one scene involving animal cruelty, but fortunately there are no horrific details about it.

Also, there is a scene involving stillborn child.

Hardcover (Harper Collins): deceiving 448 pages (lots of blank pages, plus large margins and 1.5 (if not double) line spacing

E-book (Kobo): 429 pages (default), 116k words

Audiobook narrated by Jeanna Phillips: 14.4 hours (normal speed) - I was not a fan of her voice and speeding up did not improve, but the narration is great.

I'm happy to be an outlier here, having saved myself several tedious hours: I'm throwing this passionless telling, telling, and more telling - every eye-rollingly endless sterile detail of two sociopathic children and their brainless parents - into the DNF bin.

Disclaimer, I was sent a review copy of this book by the Publisher in trade for a fair review.

TW: domestic, sexual, class, and verbal violence. Child abuse, murder, abortion, sexual exploitation, parental abuse.

This is a 2.5 star for me.

Overall this was a disappointing read, the first 200 or so pages were quite entertaining and the first 100 in particular had a wonderful atmosphere of a sort of fantastical almost steampunk inspired aesthetic with sprinkles of the uncanny. It was compulsively readable until it wasn’t. I’m not sure who I could recommend this for, if you want to read about terrible things again and again until the loose their emotional impact, or if you just want sexual language about literally everything possible maybe you can overlook that even and just go for the vibes,but those don’t last long either.

SPOILERS AHEAD

What can I say about this book? Well first of all it is a very long book for only a 400 page novel. By that I mean, it is a book that could be half of its length.

We start with the two main characters Sadie and Marie Antoine, having a fake duel as pre-teens and accidentally killing a maid jn the process. From then until the point where we return to the scene the vibes are immaculate. You get this dark and uncanny valley feeling of a pseudo 19th century society where feminity is constraint except in these two little shocking girls that seem to be extremely dark in nature and are just plotting the most horrid things.

And then they grow up. Their obsession with one another never goes away even when they don’t talk to the other and have this constant forgetting even of the other’s existence and we are just supposed to believe they always pick back up where they left off. Even when it is explicitly stated they hate one another now or that the other has moved on.

This leads to a very unsatisfactory main plot. The main two characters at stop developing very early and become annoying and obsolete as more side characters get introduced. Plus those side characters which should actually been the focus not the two spoiled rich girls that think they are shocking because one of them cannot stop thinking of having sex with absolutely everything that moves, and the other is descried as an amoral business mogul whose nipples perk up and harden (yes that is literally in the page) when she meets her half sister for the first time. On a tangent here but seriously I get that part of the plot is that Sadie becomes a smut writer but like what a disservice, this book isn’t sexy at all its just horny and in the worst icky ways, like the sexual abuse is always looked like a distant unemotional thing and the rape of underage girls who have been forced into sex work is described as “love making” at one point. I understand the point of making p*rnography a empowerment thing in a 19th century For women writers, but what a terrible execution this writer had she just lost the entire plot of it by page 200 and just added as many shocking unrelated things as she could. It became so ridiculous I found myself cringing every two sentences with the sheer absurdity of it all.

On another point the side characters deserved so much more. Those were the interesting people, like George, Mary and the murderous pharmacist I wanted the book to be about them and they were so reduced and frankly at one point their narrative was rushed to the point of messiness like the writer just got bored with them and just wanted to write more about how shocking Sadie is. Like please give me a break about hearing about these women’s plump nipples for a second geez. I think the way to summarize this is that I had high expectations and I was given an underdeveloped plot, characters, and descriptions of female sexuality that read as if they had been written by a male YA fantasy writer trying to subvert the way “sexy female characters are written”

Ok rant over, lol.

On a last note I actually hope this isn’t a reflection on the authors overall work, which I want to seek out because I believe the base ideas were good just over stretched. So let me know if you have read something else they have published and you enjoyed it.

a) george is my dream woman
b) this was an excellent commentary on the way class affects feminism
c) the writing style is so witty (it reminds me of east of eden in many ways)

Thank you Harper Collins Canada for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

Heather O’Neill is a literal master of writing. Every book she writes is just so enchanting and captivating, they’re so hard to put down.

In this book, we get two girls who become friends, end up separated, and find each other again all against the backdrop of Montreal, 1873, and what it’s like being a girl from a privileged background.

As they move into adulthood, we see the build-up of an uprising of girls demanding to be paid equal, be treated equal, to not be owned by men. The lower class are the ones fighting for this, while the men in power continue to benefit off of them.

This book leaves you wondering, are Sadie and Marie likeable characters, or are they not? Are they redeemable? It’s up to us to judge.

I absolutely loved this book, and it explores so many important themes like female love, friendship, women’s rights. A definite must-read!

Once again Heather O’Neill proves her ability to cut deep. When We Lost Our Heads is an invigorating, frustrating, dark, beautiful, terrible tragedy. As much as I loved Lullabies for Little Criminals, I think if I went back and reread the book for a third time I would be more critical of it now—both because I’m older and because O’Neill’s writing has improved since then. When We Lost Our Heads displays a mastery over characterization that O’Neill was only beginning to explore in that debut fifteen years ago.

Set in Montreal in the nineteenth century, When We Lost Our Heads follows two very different women: Marie Antoine and Sadie Arnett. One is born into privilege, the heiress to a sugar factory, and wants for nothing. The other belongs to a family whose patriarch is a social climber, owner of an expensive house but without much else to their name. The two girls forge an unlikely friendship until an accident causes their families to tear them apart. Years later, they reunite briefly and catastrophically. As their respective personalities crystallize around the environments in which they grow up, they diverge, reunite, diverge again—bad for each other yet unable to stay away.

Your enjoyment of the book will depend on how much you buy into Marie and Sadie and their relationship. I loved every moment of it. O’Neill grapples with the messiness of female friendship and attraction. Sadie is like a little Wednesday Addams, all “I love the darkness; the darkness is me.” Marie, on the other hand, is much more sheltered up until her father’s death. Their attraction to one another might feel like opposites attracting, but what I saw cuts right to the theme of the book: two women constrained by patriarchy (albeit in slightly different ways) drawn to each other like moths to a flame. They are both passionate to a fault, both needing some kind of release that they cannot get from other relationships. You know, from the very beginning, it will be their downfall. But you can’t stop reading.

Many of the characters are named quite transparently for people involved in the French Revolution, with their personalities and the events in the book loosely following those people’s politics and experiences. It’s clever and, while not subtle, also doesn’t overpower the narrative. Readers with more than a passing familiarity with the French Revolution will enjoy the reference while those who miss it won’t miss out. (The connection is also ironic given that most of the characters in the book are anglophone.) Yet this reference also highlights how When We Lost Our Heads is about class as much as it is about gender.

Sadie and Marie’s love transcends the restrictions on queerness in their time. It also breaks rules about class. Sadie moves effortless across class barriers, meeting Marie on her level while also happily slumming it in a brothel. She is a cipher, and Marie is not the only one to get obsessed with—and feel betrayed by—her. George, another prominent queer figure, falls for Sadie’s confidence and the passion with which she hates Marie when she and George first meet. Genderqueer, nonbinary or transmasc (labels are difficult in this time period), George helps Sadie explore not only queer sex but also radicalizes her politically. If Marie is Sadie’s muse, George is Sadie’s enabler. But like all of Sadie’s relationships, this one sours because George, like Marie, mistook Sadie’s interest for investment.

The wake of betrayal Sadie always leaves behind is delicious. She isn’t evil; she isn’t really even the antagonist of this book. She is as much a victim as any of the other women herein. Sadie merely refuses to be cowed by her victimhood—nor, I should point out, is Marie, and their reactions have striking parallels. Sadie turns to art and expression, finds her voice in slanderous speech; Marie seizes control of the one thing she can control—the sugar factory—even if it means aligning herself along class lines.

This brings us to the heart of the novel, the twisted and sickening knot that underlies every page. O’Neill looks at loyalty from every angle. What does it mean to be loyal in a relationship, romantic or platonic? To one’s family? To an ideal? To one’s gender, one’s class, one’s peers? It is impossible to preserve all of one’s loyalties equally, and it is the conflict between and the intersection of all these loyalties that is ultimately the downfall of our antiheroines. At first abandoned by each other and then seeking to remain loyal to each other, they each sabotage themselves, sabotage one another.

I enjoyed this book so much because it is actually a very simple tragedy. You know how it’s going down from the very first page—but you still can’t put it down. There are predictable twists and turns, elements of plot that feel somewhat clichéd—but in the way that a good melodrama feels that way. O’Neill has written a stage play but given it the depth and descriptive power of a novel, and the result is a trenchant work of Canadian historical fiction that leaves me with all the feels. I am really happy her voice is with us, growing more powerful with every book.

Originally posted on Kara.Reviews, where you can easily browse all my reviews and subscribe to my newsletter.

Every decent friendship comes with a drop of hatred. But that hatred is like honey in the tea. It makes it addictive.

Marie Antoine is the daughter of the richest man in 19th century Montreal and the face of her father's sugar factory. She strikes up a friendship with Sadie, the daughter of a politician trying to establish his influence in the Golden Mile. Together, Marie and Sadie forge a lustful and competitive relationship that takes violent turn, incriminating them both.

As their paths diverge and converge, we are introduced to a cast of characters spread across all corners of Montreal. Mary, a factory worker and aspiring baker, bears an eerie resemblance to her boss’s daughter, Marie Antoine. On the other side of town, George (non-binary coded character) works in a brothel where she was abandoned as a child, performing abortions and working as a midwife.

From a finishing school in England, to a brothel in Montreal, to a sugar factory in the heat of industrial revolution, our cast of characters explore feminine desire and rage as it manifests itself across social class. When We Lost Our Heads highlights the intersection between class and gender, reinforcing the limits of choice feminism that is so popular with the upper class. In the end, hyper individualism ends up being a one way ticket to the guillotine.

Have you read any of Heather O'Neill's novels? I had previously read two: The Lonely Hearts Hotel and Lullaby for Little Criminals. She is a top favorite author of mine and I had been waiting impatiently for this one.

It is historical, set in Montreal in the Gilded Age of the late 1800s, but in a way influenced by the French Revolution. It is brilliantly imaginative, as all her books are, it is sexy, naughty and fiercely feminist. I loved it!

Heather O'Neill's writing goes directly to my emotions and my passions. She does not indulge in any literary pretensions though her descriptions awake all the senses. Reading her is almost like listening to her tell you a story. I think that is great because she is accessible to anyone who can read though she never dumbs down any of her themes and ideas. Her female characters are delicious.

Unpopular opinion but I cannot think of a single good thing to say about this book. The only way I was able to get through it was to turn it into a game starting about halfway into the story where I counted every metaphor, simile or personification used… (about 215 in 230 pages…) In those pages she would sometimes bulk up a single paragraph with 4 or 5 poorly imagined metaphors, using ‘it was as though’ in almost every instance. (as though: 130, like: 92, literally anything else: 12) Yes I also broke this down lol, am I being petty? I don’t know, but I honestly could not believe how lazy and one dimensional the writing was.

None of the characters seemed like an individual person, everyone was basically the same and no one had any substance or depth to them. And unfortunately the same goes for the story. I think it was a good concept and it was interesting reading a bit of history about the city I live in, but I found myself googling Montreal in the 1800s and having a much better time reading through those search results.

The story was so unnecessarily disjointed, I would finish a chapter on a completely unremarkable plot point and then have to get through two more chapters later on in the book going over the same event from different perspectives. And the ‘twist’, if you could even call it one had me audibly groaning. I ended the book wondering if it was even edited and turned the last page to see that her only acknowledgment was to her 2 (T-W-O) editors.

All in all I found the writing so be extremely lazy, callow and underdeveloped, which was a shock to me because I’ve heard great things about her other books. I feel like the original manuscript was probably half the size and she went through throwing metaphors and personifications in wherever they’d fit, or didn’t fit, to bulk things up and try to add poetic depth but it fell flat every time. Here are a few of my favourites!

“When she undid her corset, it was as though her breasts were free.” (No way)

After accepting a drink: “It was as though she had needed a drink for months and had finally got one”

“George felt very much ownership toward the book” ???

“She felt such a flood of relief, it was akin to peeing in her clothes, releasing a bladder she had been brutally holding in. … as though she were an air balloon”

“George never longed for a mother so when she was little.” ????

“Her breasts were like loaves of bread rising in the night”

And I told myself I wouldn’t get into the inaccuracy of 19th century life as described in this book but I will just say I think she was also very lazy with her research and consistency.

FIN.

This Montréal-based novel is somewhat shocking. At first, I disliked it, and it made me uncomfortable. It begins with two young privileged girls who have no morals or loyalty. We get to know them, and they are quite unlikeable. But then, the larger theme becomes clear: female empowerment and liberation. You begin to realize that the author is showcasing how females are human and individual as well as underestimated, undervalued, and often in danger from males. Women can be psychopaths, killers, depraved, disloyal, narcissists, brilliant, talented, shrewd, mavericks, leaders, manipulative, queer, generous, etc., the same as other genders. You never really root for one character, yet you root for all. It's quite a marvel. And it has a couple of twists at the end that were unexpected.

Edit: 2.5

I've been wracking my brain about what the form and style is doing for the story. It's told with a whimsical fairytale/Lemony Snicket voice, which is interesting given the dark subject matter in both fairytales and this book. But it's one thing to read a few dozen pages of that, and another altogether when that mounts to the hundreds. Is this just an author's quirk, or is she challenging our ability to suspend cynicism? Mixed in with so many of Heather's signature similes and metaphors (which I had found sincerely charming in past work such as Lullabies), I wonder if it doesn't confuse the tone and distract from the story.

The general arc and characters are so similar as in O'Neill's past work, that it feels like I've read this one: special genius child from Montreal in terrible circ*mstances strives to fulfill their massive potential and wildest dreams out of spite, and everything goes wrong. Drugs, CSA/trafficking, separation and reunion, sabotage. Same motifs, different decade. The most disappointing thing about this is we are never given any reason why these characters are supposed to be special. It's just written: "She was a special child. Everyone could see she was special." Ok. Why?

One thing I really enjoyed in the first section was how Marie and Sadie can function as symbols for a sort of feminine double consciousness, the conformist and the rebel within us all. It is also interesting that they develop beyond that by the end of the story, yet this idea of duality/contradiction/harmony between what is expected of girls, and our unacceptable natures, comes back around at the end. A balance of sorts is restored, before all hell breaks loose. It was doomed not to last, and I wonder what the author is saying about girlhood in its totality. The class element makes this even more complex and interesting, if lacking the racial dimension. Are we defined by how we are perceived, or by how we feel? Can we exist as both? Should we perform femininity as it is expected, or shock people with the reality of our raw humanity? When and why and why not? Lots to chew on, love it.

The middle, however, felt like reading a long treatment. Lots of telling, lots of "so-and-so was always doing xyz" rather than just showing us the scenes. This was made clearer the few times we are actually shown something go down, at which points the pages truly sing. But the over-explaining, the obvious conclusions spoon-fed to the reader from the mouths of underdeveloped characters outnumbered these brilliant instances of showing.

Unforrunately, the many heavy-handed metaphors (sometimes recycled from her other books, or even from within this very book) got old pretty quickly. Two separate times, a tear drops onto a journal page, transforming the ink into a little black fish. Cute once, but twice, it comes across as lazy. The frequent "glimmering snow like fairies" one was so overused, it lost all meaning. Sometimes, a whole page is spent explaining the same idea several different ways. I longed to be spared the blather, and for O'Neill to just pick one of the many, MANY poetic descriptions.

The plot really picks up in the last hundred pages, but something felt missing regardless. For me, it wasn't enough of a payoff after those 250 pages of drawn-out, didactic narration in the middle.

Overall, I like the concept of the complexities of girlhood mixed with a reimagining of the unwritten feminine influences from the French Revolution, and what that might have looked like in Montreal. But the repetition of the "she is so special, more special than any other girl, other girls are boring and stupid and she was so smart and unique" undermines these feminist themes. It was unclear whether this was intentional.

Books are subjective, I'm a fan of Heather O'Neill 's past work. I think I just had higher expectations from an author of her caliber.

I struggled with rating this four or five stars until the last couple chapters and ultimately, I went to my three stars There are TW's of rape, murders, violence and LGBTQ story-lines. Take your time with this one as there are a lot of characters and story-lines in this one that you need to follow closely.

I've read a few other of Ms. O'Neill's books before and was looking forward to this one. It started out great with Marie Antoine and Sadie meeting up and despite their upbringing, one wealthy, the other not, becoming good friends. I really enjoyed the character development and story-lines of the two ladies over many years; how they were in agreement on some things and not so much on others, so much so they stopped communicating with each other for a period of time until later on in the book, brought them back together.

Marie Antoine becomes a sugar baron after the death of her father and it shows how much the class difference is between owner and employee is and the drive for profit versus worker safety.

Sadie develops a close friendship with George, a prostitute, who helps Sadie with her dream of being a writer by introducing her to those who could help her, but not in the usual sense.
by
As with most books, lots of twists, turns, shocks to keep you on your toes.

I'm sure O'Neill fans will love this one. And, while watching "Canada Reads" (a Canadian literary competition with well known Canadians defending a book written by a Canadian author) that Canadian actress Sarah Gadon (Alias Grace) is developing a screen play for O'Neill's book Lullabies for Little Criminals.

DNFd at 25%
I wanted so badly to love this. There is a lot about it that compels me (including the stunning cover). Sadly, I can’t get past the writing style, which, even aside from being often distractingly anachronistic, feels shockingly elementary for the type of book it seems to be marketed as.

man those last 100 pages had me absolutely reeling

black cat friend and golden retriever friend accidentally start a class revolution

This book was sooooooooooo long.
The author created too many moving pieces and the root of the story got lost as a result.
It starts out as somewhat of a middlegrade novel and then moves into some pretty crass scenes that felt like they were there solely just to be crass and didn't add much to the plot.
I didn't hate the story, but it got very convoluted and I lost interest.
I ended up rage reading the rest of it just so I had more details for the book club discussion later this month.
I get why she had so many character arcs branch off, they just felt like she went too far into detail and didn't seem to be necessary.
I did enjoy how sexually free the characters were, but this also felt forced and there simply for the shock value.

I did not expect to be entranced by this decadent and lurid tale so immediately or thoroughly. I loved the gender swapping, the nods to so many French Revolution figures, and the way O’Neill doesn’t shy away from the horrors and realities of the lives of women throughout history.

If you’re curious which of the characters relates to which French Revolution figure, I’ll post them under the spoiler tag:

Marie Antoine - definitely Marie Antoinette. Her decadence and unwillingness to reduce her spending while people who needed her help starved and died are in both stories. She also died in the Revolution.

Sadie Arnette - the Marquis de Sade. A writer of erotica and p*rn and the coiner of Sadism, he survived the Revolution but lived the rest of his days in institutions much like Sadie does. He died in one. Works of note in relation to this novel included Justine (1791) and Juliette (1799).

Mary Robespierre - Maximilien Robespierre (the name is a dead giveaway). He became one of the most prominent figures of the Revolution. He’s credited with bringing down the French Monarchy (including Marie Antoinette), and had anyone who opposed him sent to the guillotine, but he was later guillotined himself by the moderates who came to power.

George - I assume this is Georges Danton. He at first sided supported the Revolution (and presumably Robespierre) but as the Reign of Terror got under way, he became more moderate, stating that Terror should not be the norm for running a government. This earned him Robespierre’s wrath.

Jean-Pauline Marat - Jean-Paul Marat. Again the name gives it away. Like his fictional counterpart, he was a political theorist, pharmacist and scientist.

Louis (Marie’s father) - could be seen as either Louis XV or Louis XVI. But probably Louis XV. He was notorious for having mistresses and while the monarchy held on by a thread while he was alive, things became much worse for everyone once he died thanks to Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette’s incompetence.

There are probably others, but those were the ones I could think of off the top of my head. Hope they help!

why you should read ‘when we lost our heads’ by heather o’neill

- a dynamic that’s reminiscent of vicious but for lesbians
- nicola coughlan and olivia cooke would play the two main characters in a movie
- class dichotomy & discussions
- gender exploration / female sexuality
- literary marina and the diamonds song circa 2010
- butch pov character
- exploring womanhood during the industrial revolution
- the rich girl’s guide to sapphic yearning (tm)
- needs to be an a24 movie

an elegantly dichotomous book exploring class, gender, sexuality, female friendships, feminism, and womanhood in the industrial revolution written in a sort of fairytale-esque prose. femininity as terror, girls as agents of destruction, women born holding weapons, an angel’s fall from grace.

‘when we lost our heads’ had me completely enthralled from the moment i began reading, i wanted to soak in every little detail. smart, clever, witty, cunning, positively annoying, and completely over the top (in the best possible way).

(i would gladly die for george she’s literally my dream woman and deserved better)