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When We Lost Our Heads
A spellbinding story about two girls whose friendship is so intense it not only threatens to destroy them, it changes the trajectory of history.
Marie Antoine is the charismatic, spoiled daughter of a sugar baron. At 12 years old, with her blond curls and her unparalleled sense of whimsey, she’s the leader of all the children in the Golden Mile, an affluent strip of 19th century Montreal. Until one day in 1873, when Sadie Arnett, dark-haired, sly, and brilliant, moves to the neighborhood.
Marie and Sadie are immediately united by their passion and intensity, and they attract and repel each other in ways that light each of them on fire. Marie with her bubbly charm sees the light and sweetness of the world, whereas Sadie’s obsession with darkness is all consuming. Soon their childlike games take on a thrill of danger and then become deadly.
Forced to separate, they spend their teenage years engaged in acts of alternating innocence and depravity—until a singular event unites them once more, with dizzying effects. And after Marie inherits her father’s sugar empire and Sadie disappears into the city’s gritty underworld, a revolution of the working class begins to foment. Each of them will have unexpected roles to play in events that upend their city—the only question is whether they will find each other once more.
Traveling from a repressive finishing school to a vibrant brothel, taking readers firsthand into the brutality of factory life and the opulent lives of Montreal’s wealthy, When We Lost Our Heads dazzlingly explores gender and power, sex and desire, class and status, and the terrifying power of the human heart when it can’t let someone go.
Marie Antoine is the charismatic, spoiled daughter of a sugar baron. At 12 years old, with her blond curls and her unparalleled sense of whimsey, she’s the leader of all the children in the Golden Mile, an affluent strip of 19th century Montreal. Until one day in 1873, when Sadie Arnett, dark-haired, sly, and brilliant, moves to the neighborhood.
Marie and Sadie are immediately united by their passion and intensity, and they attract and repel each other in ways that light each of them on fire. Marie with her bubbly charm sees the light and sweetness of the world, whereas Sadie’s obsession with darkness is all consuming. Soon their childlike games take on a thrill of danger and then become deadly.
Forced to separate, they spend their teenage years engaged in acts of alternating innocence and depravity—until a singular event unites them once more, with dizzying effects. And after Marie inherits her father’s sugar empire and Sadie disappears into the city’s gritty underworld, a revolution of the working class begins to foment. Each of them will have unexpected roles to play in events that upend their city—the only question is whether they will find each other once more.
Traveling from a repressive finishing school to a vibrant brothel, taking readers firsthand into the brutality of factory life and the opulent lives of Montreal’s wealthy, When We Lost Our Heads dazzlingly explores gender and power, sex and desire, class and status, and the terrifying power of the human heart when it can’t let someone go.
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First published February 8, 2022
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About the author
Heather O'Neill
74 books2,625 followersHeather O'Neill was born in Montreal and attended McGill University.
She published her debut novel, Lullabies for Little Criminals, in 2006. The novel won the Canada Reads competition (2007) and was awarded the Hugh Maclennan Award (2007). It was nominated for eight other awards included the Orange Prize, the Governor General's Award and the IMPAC Dublin Literary Prize. It was an international bestseller.
Her books The Girl Who Was Saturday Night (2014) and Daydreams of Angels (2015) were both shortlisted for the Giller Prize.
Her third novel The Lonely Hearts Hotel will be published in February 2017.
Her credits also include a screenplay, a book of poetry, and contributions to The New York Times Magazine, This American Life, The Globe and Mail, Elle Magazine, The Walrus and Rookie Magazine.
She published her debut novel, Lullabies for Little Criminals, in 2006. The novel won the Canada Reads competition (2007) and was awarded the Hugh Maclennan Award (2007). It was nominated for eight other awards included the Orange Prize, the Governor General's Award and the IMPAC Dublin Literary Prize. It was an international bestseller.
Her books The Girl Who Was Saturday Night (2014) and Daydreams of Angels (2015) were both shortlisted for the Giller Prize.
Her third novel The Lonely Hearts Hotel will be published in February 2017.
Her credits also include a screenplay, a book of poetry, and contributions to The New York Times Magazine, This American Life, The Globe and Mail, Elle Magazine, The Walrus and Rookie Magazine.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,751 reviews
February 2, 2022
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
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
December 27, 2022
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 whores, 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.
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 whores, 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.
May 17, 2023
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.
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.
March 9, 2022
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!
Click here to hear more of my thoughts on this book over on my Booktube channel, abookolive!
January 31, 2022
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.
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.
October 26, 2021
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.
When you read a book entitled When We Lost Our Heads — featuring a decadently wealthy main character named Marie Antoine, heiress to a sugar fortune and whose likeness is featured on every bag sold (“Everyone knew Marie from her profile on the sugar bags. It represented sweetness. It represented being able to eat cake instead of bread.”) — you might think you know where this book is going. But this is from the mind of Heather O’Neill. Virtuoso of the clever metaphor, doyen of dazzling wordplay whose humour sweetens the political punch, O’Neill never fails to surprise, delight, and provoke. With other characters named Mary Robespierre, Jeanne-Pauline Marat, and Georgina Danton, revolution is certainly on the horizon, but the enemy is not simply, or solely, L'Ancien Régime. Focussing on an extraordinary friendship set against the backdrop of Industrial Age Montreal, this is class warfare, sex warfare, gender warfare; referencing Dickens by way of Christina Rossetti and the two Marys, Wollstonecraft and Shelley, with the Marquis de Sade thrown in as well. This is literary, gritty, socially astute, and I loved every page of it; I will boldly declare it’s my favourite O’Neill novel so far. (Note: I read an ARC through NetGalley and passages quoted may not be in their final forms.)
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.
The initiating tone is amusingly wry, right up until it becomes deadly serious. In the beginning we meet young, motherless Marie Antoine — envy of all the girls on Montreal’s Golden Mile for her superior wealth, beauty, and charm — and she might have drifted through life forever in her bubble of self-satisfaction if, when she was twelve, she hadn’t come across another young girl whose mysterious aura of artistic self-composure hadn’t pierced Marie like a lightning strike. The profound and inexplicable attraction is mutual for this Sadie Arnett — the unloved daughter of social climbers, Sadie will be forced into Marie’s orbit before she has a chance to dissect her own desires — and the friends are so well-matched, like “two dolls that were being marketed to girls, one fair, one dark”, that their friendship seems both destined and doomed from the start. In the style of a Victorian novel, there will be tragedy, separations, coincidence and dramatic revelations, and as the narrative descends the hill from the mansion that sugar bought on the Golden Mile to a character-rich brothel in the lower reaches of Montreal’s Squalid Mile, we are given a soapbox-side view from which to watch the fomenting of La Révolution.
Every decent friendship comes with a drop of hatred. But that hatred is like honey in the tea. It makes it addictive.
At its heart, this is the story of Marie and Sadie’s fraught friendship, but more precisely, this is the story of women; the restricted lives of women from all classes (but especially the working poor); the impotence of most and the inflamed actions of the bold and desperate. I appreciated that O’Neill flipped the genders of the architects of the French Revolution (Robespierre, Marat, Danton; even the Marquis de Sade), for if the history of women’s revolt had been “written in invisible ink”, this is a truly satisfying effort to “put the page up against the window and let a light shine through it”. I don’t want to reveal any more about the plot, but as always, I can’t help sampling some of O’Neill’s metaphorical exuberance.
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.
And as seems to be her routine imagery, there was much involving roses and cats and the moon:
• 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.
And, as always, paragraphs bursting with analogy and anthropomorphism (to my delight):
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.
Yet, although I did delight in the language, I was always aware that this was a serious work of political and feminist fiction:
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.
I loved every bit of this; entertained and provoked, I couldn’t ask for more.
February 6, 2022
It was as though she was finally getting tired of the author’s writing style…
July 31, 2024
I've been wanting to read Montreal author Heather O'Neill for some time now, and ma foi ! What can I say? I'm disappointed!
I think it's because I wasn't able to embrace the style in which this is written. I don't know if this is O'Neill's usual style (I hope not) but I can best describe it as "Lemony Snickett-esque", in which Elaine-from-Seinfeld's boyfriend narrates a fairy tale in a bored, flat tone. Declarative sentences dropping, one after the next, with little variation, telling you everything the characters did and thought. It got to the point where I wondered if there was going to be ANY dramatized action in this book at all, aside from the opening chapter. And if I was going to get to use my brain, rather than be told each and every little thing, like I'm a simpleton.
I struggled and struggled to maintain interest throughout the novel. The tell-don't-show narrative just killed me, though. I finished it ONLY because readers who I love and respect adore this book (and also, I spent $25.00 on it, and I hate to waste...). I'm sorry to say it, but I really don't share the enthusiasm for When We Lost Our Heads that many others have.
The book is set in Victorian times (but the narrator uses current vernacular, like "stoned" and "puked", and I'm honestly not sure what to think about that) and the main characters, Marie Antoine and Sadie Arnett are clunky caricatures of of Marie Antoinette and Marquis de Sade. Marie loves eating cake and Sadie writes pornography and is even described as having the appearance of a "young libertine". Sigh.
I really am sorry, and I don't mean to insult anyone who enjoyed this book. Let's say it really didn't speak to me on a story level, or appeal to me aesthetically. To each their own, right? (Why do I have the eerie sense there's an angry mob with torches and pitchforks after me, calling "Off with her head!!")
I think it's because I wasn't able to embrace the style in which this is written. I don't know if this is O'Neill's usual style (I hope not) but I can best describe it as "Lemony Snickett-esque", in which Elaine-from-Seinfeld's boyfriend narrates a fairy tale in a bored, flat tone. Declarative sentences dropping, one after the next, with little variation, telling you everything the characters did and thought. It got to the point where I wondered if there was going to be ANY dramatized action in this book at all, aside from the opening chapter. And if I was going to get to use my brain, rather than be told each and every little thing, like I'm a simpleton.
I struggled and struggled to maintain interest throughout the novel. The tell-don't-show narrative just killed me, though. I finished it ONLY because readers who I love and respect adore this book (and also, I spent $25.00 on it, and I hate to waste...). I'm sorry to say it, but I really don't share the enthusiasm for When We Lost Our Heads that many others have.
The book is set in Victorian times (but the narrator uses current vernacular, like "stoned" and "puked", and I'm honestly not sure what to think about that) and the main characters, Marie Antoine and Sadie Arnett are clunky caricatures of of Marie Antoinette and Marquis de Sade. Marie loves eating cake and Sadie writes pornography and is even described as having the appearance of a "young libertine". Sigh.
I really am sorry, and I don't mean to insult anyone who enjoyed this book. Let's say it really didn't speak to me on a story level, or appeal to me aesthetically. To each their own, right? (Why do I have the eerie sense there's an angry mob with torches and pitchforks after me, calling "Off with her head!!")
June 4, 2025
had an amazingggg discussion of this book over with my lesbian feminist book club !!! such a quirky and sweet (like sugar) feminist/female retelling of the french revolution set in montreal. compulsively readable with plot twists to keep you engaged, this book sometimes hits you over the head with its commitment to over-explaining metaphors and directly speaking to the theses of the narrative. even so, the overt themes of class consciousness, girlhood queer intimacy into adult lesbianism, and the accumulation of power and wealth as things that fundamentally change and form your personhood are all explored with an almost fairytale like style of writing and storytelling. a very fun time
January 24, 2023
“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.
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.
January 3, 2023
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
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
February 14, 2022
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.
May 30, 2024
i will genuinely be SHOCKED if this isn’t my favorite book of the year
February 1, 2022
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 pornography 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.
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 pornography 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.
April 20, 2023
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
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
February 27, 2022
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.
September 17, 2024
oh i loved this JDJDHHS
April 23, 2023
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 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.
October 24, 2023
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)
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)
August 5, 2023
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.
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.
January 27, 2024
You know what? I can respect what this book was trying to do and also still find it a slog to read
December 29, 2023
Me when I act like a little egomaniac sexual deviant freak to get my megalomaniac child labor exploiter girlfriend to pay attention to me
December 26, 2023
black cat friend and golden retriever friend accidentally start a class revolution
May 19, 2022
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 circumstances 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'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 circumstances 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.
June 8, 2022
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:
If you’re curious which of the characters relates to which French Revolution figure, I’ll post them under the spoiler tag:
March 27, 2022
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.
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.
May 5, 2025
incredible story telling reworking the tale of Marie Antionette with discussions on social classes and the feminine experience in society through the Industrial Revolution in Canada. All of that sounds very serious but the levity and humor intertwined with important discussions and some heavier topics was masterfully done. Enjoyed every moment. The audiobook was amazing as well.
Themes of feminism, freedom, societal confines of what's "proper" and how social classes impacts those elements of being a woman.
Lesbian and trans rep! But important trigger warnings:
SA, abortion, death of a child/children
Themes of feminism, freedom, societal confines of what's "proper" and how social classes impacts those elements of being a woman.
Lesbian and trans rep! But important trigger warnings:
SA, abortion, death of a child/children
March 20, 2022
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!
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!
July 2, 2023
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.
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.
February 21, 2022
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.
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.
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