When Robert Olen Butler’s last novel Hell was published a couple of years ago, I realized that I had the opportunity to read one of the preeminent writers of our time. After all, he had won the Pulitzer in 1992, for a collection of short stories entitled Good Scent from Strange Mountain.
After I finished the last chapter of Hell, I realized that I had read one of the best satires of the times. In fact, when a customer comes in Lemuria these days asking for a humorous book, I take him or her to look at Hell. Ranking in my mind just after the funny factor of Confederacy of Dunces, Hell is a laugh out loud novel, which takes the reader to “Hell” to meet the Clintons, the Bushes, and even the Pope, since, after all, no one on earth has been perfect, so all end up in Hell, but rarely know why.
So, suffice it to say that when I got a copy of Butler’s new novel A Small Hotel, I was rather expecting some satire and humor, but after a couple of chapters, I realized that my expectations were way wrong. Instead, I realized that I had happened upon a very depressing book. In case you, reader, are wondering why I would want to read such a depressingly dark novel, please keep reading because that is precisely what I did, and I am very happy that I did.
As far as subject matter, Butler handles the break up of a long term relationship with clarity and poignancy and empathy, but, and that is a big “but”, his time treatment is what makes the novel remarkable, as well as its ending. We all know that few writers can handle simultaneous time with skill. In other words reporting on what is happening at the exact same time with two characters who are not in the same proximity, requires talent to avoid redundancy and triteness. Robert Olen Butler achieves this without confusing the reader, nor boring him.
Because the novel is primarily set in New Orleans, particularly in the French Quarter, in “a small hotel”, the Southern reader feels right at home. Also, since some of the main action of the novel, occurs during the craziness of Mardi Gras, the reader feels a certain connectedness. As the novel progresses, it becomes clear that a lack of communication thwarts the lives of the protagonist and her husband, or vice versa, depending on perspective. In particular, the power of the word “love”, said out loud, or the lack thereof, becomes more and more powerful.
Toward the end of the novel, the action takes a fast turn forward, which is interesting, since heretofore, a large majority of the action takes place in the past. Once again, Butler’s treatment of time emerges as one of his most valued assets. Without giving away the ending, I will say that this initially depressing book ends with hope for the future. How Butler gets to this hope remains, once again, as a valued talent, for it is in the telling of the story that the reader finds gratitude.
See Kelly’s post on A Small Hotel.
We still have signed first editions of A Small Hotel. Click here.
-Nan
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