Women’s Hotel by Daniel Lavery

The curse of being an avid reader is that, at a certain point, every book will remind you of other books you’ve read – for better or for worse. Most recently, I have posts about The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon and Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin going up where I end up talking about the other book for part of each review. (Spoiler alert: I preferred Chabon’s book). 

For Women’s Hotel, I kept being reminded of a book I read back in my undergraduate days called The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark. And Women’s Hotel came out on top.

The first thing to know about Women’s Hotel is that there’s no plot in the traditional sense. It’s a peek into the lives of the women who live in the Beidermeier Hotel, a fictional women’s hotel in 1960’s NYC. The book is pretty short, probably just barely not a novella, and gives us insight into women of various ages and backgrounds who really only have the one thing in common – where they’re living right now. They go through life as neighbours, occasionally bumping into each other and allowing their lives to intersect as they try to go about their goals for the big city. 

While there isn’t much to say about it, given the length and lack of plot, the thing that struck me most was that I felt like I had read a worse version of this book many years ago.

While Women’s Hotel is set in the 60s, The Girls of Slender Means is set in the 40s, following a group of young women who live in a girls home in London throughout WWII. It dealt with many of the same themes, like relationships, friendship, and the general trials and tribulations of being a young woman in their era. While I remember enjoying Girls at the time, Women’s Hotel had everything I enjoyed about that book and executed it better.

At the end of the day, both books tell the stories of women who are stuck in a situation together, likely not a desirable one, and who help each other out or cause each other strife – depending on the day. Both books show us the big and small tragedies, and how those weave together to create a life.

“When there is only the memory of affectionate yet mild proximity to sustain a friendship, it tends to wilt and eventually droop to the ground slowly enough that it gives nobody any cause for alarm.”