Just Listen: The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers

I received my copy of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter in the post recently and, as mentioned in my last post, it is now one of my favourite books (ever).

It was sent to me as a thank you, and as a reminder of the power of human kindness and connection. It tells the story of a deaf-mute called John Singer, who changes the lives of the people he encounters. Everyone in his town in the deep South is drawn to him, and everyone believes he has an understanding about what they are going through as individuals. It is a story that highlights the power of sharing burdens and of listening. The problem is, sometimes people spend so much time talking that they don’t take time to listen, and although Singer likes to keep his business to himself, no one asks Singer about how he is. So it is inevitable that Singer suffers with one of the greatest hardships of all: loneliness.

I suppose this is the lesson I have taken from McCullers’ ingenious novel: we have to learn to listen. My housemate is someone who listens. She is always on the phone with her friends, helping them through their troubles and their lockdown difficulties. She is a good friend to everyone. I have certainly learned how to be a better friend through watching her.

One of the best moments in the novel is when Doctor Copeland holds a Christmas party for all of his patients, who are very poor, and suffer horrendous prejudice because they are black.

‘Rows of benches and chairs lined the walls of the front rooms. Throughout the house there was the sweet spiced odour of newly baked cake and steaming coffee […] The gifts to be distributed at the party were in the kitchen. There were stacks of groceries and clothing, all marked with a red Christmas card. Anyone who cared to come was invited to the party… The sacks were piled on the floor. There were about forty of them, each one depending in size on the need of the receiver.’

Doctor Copeland is a harsh man, but the love he has for his patients is evident. I love the sensory imagery of the sweet spiced cake and coffee that McCullers conjures. It is warm and inviting.

Of course, these physical symbols of affection are difficult at the moment, but I am looking forward to the opportunity when we can be with friends again and share food and drink and laughter. In the meantime, though, perhaps it is simply enough to listen.