A review by j_ata
Hotel Du Lac by Anita Brookner

3.0

A novel that seems to play out like some forgotten old black and white European film projected a few frames a second slower than it should be, so every gesture and every word seems to bear a heavy, languorous weight. Indeed, one might be tempted to call it a parody if it for even for a moment wavered in it seriousness, but it never does. Brookner writes in dense, lengthy paragraphs that seem like blocks of ice that must be fastidiously chipped through, reflecting the general mindset of the introverted, melancholy protagonist, a romance novel writer named Edith. As she "endures" a self-imposed exile in a stately hotel on the Continent sparsely populated by expected "types"--eccentric aristocratic sorts that seem to exist solely to make appearances in such places--she begins a process awkward interactions and grudged introspection that slowly gives way to difficult realizations and eventual decisions.

If this review has seemed to be a bit dismissing in tone, it's not entirely intended to; I actually enjoyed reading it quite a bit. But I discovered it didn't live up to the cryptic and austere opening chapters, where I found myself oddly relishing the elegant stasis. I admire that Brookner resolutely avoids sunshiny, transcendent revelations, instead attempting something more difficult and diffuse (even though I remain, I admit, not entirely convinced).