Mrs Ivy Eckdorf is a strange gal – 40-ish and divorced again,   she works as a photographer.  She decides to visit Dublin‘s O’Neill’s Hotel because she’s  heard it’s got strange things going on now and in the past.

The aging deaf and mute Mrs Sinnott, who lives in one of the upper  rooms,  owns the hotel,  but her son, Eugene, a drunk and a gambling addict manages it, spending as little as possible on maintenance.    It used to be an upscale sort of place,  but it’s fallen into disrepute – serious disrepute – and disrpair as well. The aging Mr O’Shea  does the butlering but he seems not quite right in the head anymore,  longs for the old days.  And  a guy named Morrissey uses the rooms for his line-up of aging hookers.

Mrs Eckdorf in O’Neill’s Hotel
by William Trevor (Ireland) 
1969 / 265 pages (and I’m reading the paperback!)
rating –  8  – 20th century fiction  
The eponymous Mrs Eckdorf,  whose intrusive and somewhat unbalanced character is on display from Chapter 1,  has decided  to investigate matters.  She heard about the hotel from a barman on a cruise ship and being a photographer (or saying she is) she wants to find out what she senses must be the real tragedy that initiated the downfall of the hotel.

When she finally get there Mrs Eckdorf says  she’s thinking of buying the place and interviews several people including the son Mr Sinnott,  his ex-wife Philomena and their  son Timmy.  She also calls on Mr and Mrs Gregan,  Mrs Sinnott’s daughter and her hubby as well as Father Hennessy,  an aging  Catholic priest from across the street.  Finally she peruses the “exercise books” which have been kept by old Mrs Sinnot over the years in which the other regulars of the hotel characters have left messages because not only is she 91,  she’s also deaf and mute.

Mrs Eckdorf is convinced that soemthing terribly tragic and romantic happened there – but did it?  What did happen?

This was a hard book to get hold of  -it’s older and not in print – not even avaialble in teh US except by 3rd parties.  So that’s how I read it.  –  And paper is no longer my chosen  version anymore for several reasons – my eyes and the inherent clumsiness of pages mostly.