"Hotel World" can best be described as a book that 'haunts' you, from the first page, from the first paragraph, from the first word (which, amusingly, is 'wooooo-hoooo!'). Once picked up, it won't let you go until every word and idea is consumed, until the plot is exhausted.
That, in my opinion, always makes a good read.
"Hotel World" revolves around the tragic and untimely fate of a teenage swimmer, Sara, who plummets to her death in a dumb waiter. The first 'chapter' (if it can be called that; it's more of a vignette) begins with Sara's 'ghost', mislaid from her body, wandering the earth she has left and trying to make sense of it. The 'ghost' visits Sara's body in its coffin and begs it to give her insight into what happened on May 24th, the day she died. Sara's body explains that she had just fallen in love, suprisingly with a female employee of a watch shop, and that her fall in the dumb waiter had been a tragic accident: a Ł5 bet that went horribly wrong.
If any of this sounds silly or hackneyed, it is the fault of my description only because Smith's writing is incredibly imaginative, insightful and unique. The melancholy theme of Sara's death is never over-played, and is conducted in a highly creative and contemporary manner. The strongest vignette in the book is that 'written' by Sara's younger sister, Clare. Although written in a somewhat baffling stream-of-consciousness style without punctuation, Clare's chapter is the most wonderfully evoking and emotional (without being too sentimental) account of grief I have ever read. Picking up tiny diamond-details with a fine-tooth comb, Ali Smith has an impossible eye for the subtle wonders of humanity: Clare, going to put onion peel in the rubbish bin, finds her sisters's swimming trophies in amongst the trash; she picks them out and tells her father that the rose bowl trophy has to be passed on to whoever wins the prize next year. Clare, remembering that dust is partial dead skin particles, keeps 'some of her sister' in a handkerchief in her top drawer, saving her sister from the hoover.
The main body of the story is generated when Clare, dressed in Sara's spare uniform, goes to the Global Hotel and searches for the now hidden dumb waiter shaft, obsessed with finding out how many seconds it took the steel box to fall. She then unwittingly involves a cast of strangers who also play their part in the seamless beauty of "Hotel World": Penny, a bored and disenchanted journalist and Else, a homeless woman who is given a free room by the hotel receptionist, Lise, who is sick and tired and wants to rebel about the corporate chain, Global Hotels. They are all linked in some way, as Smith stitches an engaging and colourful patchwork of death, hope and the endurance of love.
I read Smith's novel in around 4 or 5 hours; it was impossible to stop or delay finishing it because the characters, and the world they weaved, just captivated me. "Hotel World" leaves you feeling full and empty at the same time, enriched, confused, happy, futile, and -- if you're a writer -- jealous and frustrated. Her talents are enviable. The descriptions, visions and observations she uses in her book are profound, but never ficticious or pretentious. I must admit that I cringed slightly at the idea of a well-paid style writer and a homeless woman who collect pennies and wraps newspaper around her boots joining together to help a young girl, and by any other writer the story would seem false and preachy, but in Smith's hands it is true, tentative and remarkable.
It is clear why this book was nominated for the Booker Prize and the Orange Fiction Prize, the calibre of writing is fantastic- although I wouldn't actively recommend it to anyone who finds anything other than the classic beginning-middle-end novel structure challenging, as it's fragmented style maybe be a bit too brave for the tastes of some.
