There’s something in it, he decides later, standing in line for dinner. It’s possible to know you’re a criminal, a liar, a man of weak moral character, and yet not know it, in the sense of feeling that your punishment is somehow undeserved, that despite the cold facts you’re deserving of warmth and some kind of special treatment.
The Glass Hotel by Emily St. John Mandel was one of the books I was most-looking forward to reading this year because I loved the author’s previous novel, Station Eleven.
The Glass Hotel is good. Not as good as Station Eleven. But good.
