Mr. Trevor beams in his morality tale this time through a corrosive, middle-aged female photographer among some three-penny urban misfits in Dublin. Mrs. Eckdorf, divorced twice and brash as a blue-jay, explodes into the seedy confines of O'Neill's Hotel, its occupants and satellites placidly revolving around the silent world of its ninety-two-year-old owner,
the deaf-mute Mrs. Sinnott. Communicating with Mrs. Sinnott by means of school exercise books are her family, blood kin and orphans she has sheltered. Mrs. Eckdorf, at the height of creative and spiritual excitation, is increasingly convinced that the silent benison of Mrs. Sinnott's presence has united this unpleasing horde in mutual forgiveness. Madly photographing, Mrs. Eckdorf barges in on the bewildered, hostile "family." After a series of extravagant actions and confessions, Mrs. Eckdorf is holed up in a mental institution - completely potty. Only the priest, Father Hennessey, her only visitor, suspects - against his better judgment - that she may have been on to something. Not Trevor's best - there's just not enough leaven for the lunatic vision - but it's a full house of believable, likable rogues and rabble, with an unexpected joker. (Kirkus Reviews)
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