I put this book off for too long, but now I know better than to hesitate when it comes to Emily St. John Mandel. I read Station Eleven in 2020 and it was one of those rare, powerful reads—but I wondered if that were partly due to the timing (being a pandemic read) or not. Well, this book didn’t quite achieve the same effect, but it was still enthralling in all the right ways.
The Glass Hotel centers itself on a Ponzi scheme, modeled after the infamous Madoff scheme. I had not really heard of this, or if I had, it was never something I paid attention to, so the details in the story didn’t feel too rehashed. As usual, SJM excels in bringing together a cast of disparate characters who are all connected by a central event—in this case, the Ponzi scheme in place of Station Eleven’s pandemic. I did find it interesting how certain characters get limited amounts of page-time, like Paul, for instance. However, the book does intentionally focus on our protagonist, Vincent, and the mastermind behind the scheme—a certain Jonathan Alkaitis. SJM tends to write characters in a beautifully complex way; none of them are endearing or positive in the traditional sense, but all are varied shades of grey, with questionable motivations and desires. You don’t always want to root for the characters, but at times, you may be surprised by what reactions they can elicit. The decision to do a Greek tragic chorus-inspired chapter for a certain group of people was genius.
The plot does meander a fair bit, in typical SJM style, but it was slightly more confusing than Station Eleven to piece together. Perhaps it is because the events here were less linear in time than in the former book. Some reactions to certain events didn’t always make sense, and understanding the back-and-forth nature of the time-jumping narrative did require some effort. Much of the beginning sections of the novel were also quite confusing, but going back through them after finishing, they made a lot more sense in context—they were even brilliant, in some ways. However, the plot does proceed in a fairly reasonable manner; if not entirely believable, it is at the very least plausible.
One of the central themes of this book is defining the ambiguous moral line between doing terrible things and being a bad person; what could compel an ordinary, average person to do something so evil? The novel hints that perhaps the line is closer to us than we are ready to admit. Other avenues in the book include: the examination of a certain kind of passive life—whether you let life happen to you, or if you control the reins of your journey; the various ways we are connected to other people, biological or not; and the fleeting, sometimes untrustworthy relationship we have with our memories. There is a lot of interesting food for thought here, and delving deep into these themes will be satisfying for any curious reader.
After reading this, I am getting a better sense of SJM as an author, and this book has definitely solidified her status as one whose works I will always reach out for. I definitely need to try her other novels soon. I wholeheartedly recommend her books to anyone who appreciates contemporary literary fiction and doesn’t mind somewhat unconventional plot threads. To paraphrase what one critic said, SJM has a talent for bringing the extraordinary down to the level of the mundane, all the while showing us what it reveals about human nature and ourselves.
Favorite quotes:
※ ‘There’s the idea of wilderness, and then there’s the unglamorous labor of it, the never-ending grind of securing firewood; bringing in groceries over absurd distances; tending the vegetable garden and maintaining the fences that keep the deer from eating all the vegetables; repairing the generator; remembering to get gas for the generator; composting; running out of water in the summertime; never having enough money…’
※ ‘There is exquisite lightness in waking each morning with the knowledge that the worst has already happened.’
※ ‘He’d seen the shadow country, its outskirts and signs, he’d just never thought he’d have anything to do with it.’
※ ‘Once he was proud of himself for evading his fate, but more and more lately he feels it moving toward him, his fate approaching from a long way off.’
※ ‘Give me quiet, he thought, give me forests and ocean and no roads. Give me the walk to the village through the woods in summer, give me the sound of wind in cedar branches, give me mist rising over the water, give me the view of green branches from my bathtub in the mornings. Give me a place with no people in it, because I will never fully trust another person again.’
