The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter: Carson McCullers’s insights

Lately I’ve been reading The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter. The novel is about people in a small town in Georgia in the 30s. Each chapter focuses on the perspective of one character: Mick Kelly, a 13-year-old girl in boy’s shorts who loves classical music and dreams of writing music or making inventions; Biff Brannon, a restaurant owner who has an unhappy marriage and takes an interest in Mick; Jack Blount, an angry, bitter alcoholic who’s always raging against injustice and income inequality; Dr Copeland, a frustrated black doctor who takes out his anger at the world on his own family and loses them as a consequence; and John Singer, a lonely deaf-mute that everyone gravitates towards and sees as a wise, understanding confidante. 
There are also many other characters, and they’re all interconnected. John Singer eats every day at Biff’s restaurant and rents a room from the Kellys, where Portia work as a housekeeper; Portia is Dr Copeland’s daughter; Singer first sees Jack Blount at Biff’s restaurant and takes him in before Biff’s wife, Alice, kicks him out; Mick takes care of her younger siblings Bubber and Ralph, and Bubber likes Baby Wilson, who is Biff’s niece (Alice’s sister Lucile’s daughter), and so on. 
The point I’d like to make is that the novel has a range of characters, each chapter focuses on a character’s perspective, and Carson McCullers shows an astonishing understanding of human nature and ability to inhabit very different characters—even more astonishing when she was only 23 when the book was published.   
Her prose is also brilliant, so I’m going to share some quotes to let her speak for herself: 
On loneliness: 

“It was funny, too, how lonesome a person could be in a crowded house.” (P.1, ch.3) 

“She could be in the middle of a house full of people and still feel like she was locked up by herself.” (P.2, ch.5) 

This is something everyone can relate to. 
On longing: 

“Maybe when people longed for a thing that bad the longing made them trust in anything that might give it to them.” (P.1, ch.3) 

On grief: 

“When he tried to remember her face there was a queer blankness in him. The only thing about her that was clear in his mind was her feet—stumpy, very soft and white and with puffy little toes. The bottoms were pink and near the left heel there was a tiny brown mole. The night they were married he had taken off her shoes and stockings and kissed her feat. And, come to think of it, that was worth considering, because the Japanese believe that the choicest part of a woman.” (P.2, ch.2)  

I like this a lot, because anyone who has known grief knows that it’s a strange thing—sometimes you think of things that you wouldn’t have expected to think about, or sometimes, when you seem to be doing fine, grief takes over you, unexpected. 

“The light was very bright in Doctor Copeland’s eyes and her voice was loud and hard. He coughed and his whole face trembled. He tried to pick up the cup of cold coffee, but his hand would not hold it steadily. The tears came up to his eyes and he reached for his glasses to try to hide them.” (P.1, ch.5) 

Some readers might argue that’s not grief, but in a way it is—Portia reminds him of his failure as a father, and makes him grieve for the children he has lost, even though they’re all alive. 
On the shock of a child you know doing bad things: 

“It was true that in Bubber there was a tough, mean streak. He was acting different today than he had ever acted before. Up until now he was always a quiet little kid who never really done anything mean. When anybody’s feelings were hurt it always made him ashamed and nervous. Then how come he could do all the things he had done today?” (P.2, ch.5) 

That passage follows some wonderful scenes, though I won’t spoil them for those who haven’t read the book. 
The best moments are probably when the characters see something beyond themselves, such as when Mick wonders about John Singer: 

“She wondered what kind of music he heard in his mind that his ears couldn’t hear. Nobody knew. And what kind of things he would say if he could talk. Nobody knew that either.” (P.1, ch.3) 

Or when Mick realises her father’s loneliness: 

“That was when she realized about her Dad. It wasn’t like she was learning a new fact - she had understood it all along in every way except with her brain. Now she just suddenly knew that she knew about her Dad. He was lonesome and he was an old man. Because none of the kids went to him for anything and because he didn’t earn much money he felt like he was cut off from the family. And in his lonesomeness he wanted to be close to one of his kids - and they were all so busy that they didn’t know it. He felt like he wasn’t much real use to anybody.” (P.1, ch.2) 

Most of The Heart is a Lonely Hunter is about the characters’ loneliness, yearning, despair, and their attempts to communicate, to reach out for companionship and understanding. A lot of the times they misunderstand or get misunderstood, or all they get is a one-sided relationship. But above is one of those moments when a character understands another, and they have a conversation.  
There is also a magnificent moment in the novel, when Mick listens to Beethoven for the first time, and gets a glimpse of something beyond herself, beyond her daily life. I won’t put it here though, you need to read it in the book.  
The book is full of insights, and Carson McCullers writes so well. 
The other day, I saw someone on Twitter write that, except for Tolstoy’s best novels, he never read any book that showed so much love for the characters as The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. That’s probably true.