Excerpt from The Capital of Dreams by Heather O'Neill, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Excerpt
The Capital of Dreams by Heather O'Neill

Sofia followed the tracks. She was so nervous. It was strange to be lost. She didn't think she had ever been lost in her whole life. She knew the city streets so well, it was impossible to get disoriented there. There were also maps on the corners of each block. They were behind glass on the walls outside subway stations. You could always stop and look and see exactly where you were. How she wished she could come across one of those maps now and stand on tippy-toes to look at it.

She turned around quickly because she felt as though she was being followed. The trees stiffened in place, like a child playing a game of freeze tag. The trees would start moving again as soon as Sofia turned her back. The sound of the stones underneath her shoes started getting louder and louder. Her footfalls sounded like a train leaving the station.

There was whispering in the air. It was like bits of conversation had been ripped from the mouths of the children from the train, like pages from a book, and like a page, the bits had been blown by the wind for several miles until they reached Sofia's ears. Perhaps there was a child who was a ventriloquist who was throwing their voice a hundred miles.

The children were whispering. They seemed to be mocking her. What could they be talking about? They were making fun of her because they were dead and she was alive. They didn't have to worry about being cold or hungry. The Enemy meant nothing to them now.

Sofia couldn't stand the idea of dying. She didn't know whether that made her a coward. But she felt that she hadn't spent enough time on earth. She hadn't had any time to properly develop a personality. She wanted, at some point, to know what it felt like to be herself.

The wind was being awful and harassing her. It kept sticking its hands in her pockets. She didn't know what it wanted. Did it want money? She never had any money in her pockets. She was a child. She had forgotten how it was always colder as soon as you left the city. She was not ready for the chill.

Sofia finally came to a station. There were crowds of country people standing at the platform being watched by soldiers. They were arguing because they wanted to take the train somewhere. But the train was late. They were waving tickets in the air.

She felt embarrassed. She was too embarrassed to tell the people she was being pursued by soldiers. They would think it was her own fault. They would look her up and down and wonder what it was about her that had caused the soldiers to dislike her so.

She saw a truck park near the station. Two older farmers stepped out of it and began to load the back with crates of cabbage that were waiting for them. They did not seem to be especially concerned by the proximity of soldiers. They were farmers. They assumed they were necessary and would be the last to be shot. The word was out that the soldiers were murdering the elite and the overeducated bourgeoisie, which probably made them think, on some level, that the Enemy had a point.

Why had her mother dressed her as though she needed to impress people at a dinner party?

There was a girl her size in an oversized threadbare black coat and with a kerchief on her head. Sofia wore a red tam and a new coat that had been tailored in the city. She asked the girl if she wanted to trade. The girl looked surprised and was very happy with the trade. Sofia handed the girl her beret, although on cold days she would come to regret this choice. She wrapped the kerchief around her head and pulled the girl's coat around her body.

"Can you tell me where we are?" Sofia asked the girl.

"We aren't anywhere. We are just in the country."

"Which is the way to Oloman?"

"I wouldn't go that way if I were you."

The two of them stared at each other. And the girl pointed in a direction with her finger. They turned and walked away from each other. Each girl certain the other's identity was safer than her own.

Excerpted from The Capital of Dreams by Ryan O'Neill. Copyright © 2025 by Ryan O'Neill. Excerpted by permission of Harper. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.