Insignificant

Profound sadness.  If I had to label the emotion I felt at the end of this novel, it would be precisely that: profound sadness.  As if the opening scene focusing on the unfortunate accidental death of a teenage girl isn't enough, this novel continues to introduce the reader to a cast of characters whose lives are ultimately revealed to be insignificant and ineffectual.

Sara was an incredible swimmer.  Her talents were unparalleled and she possessed numerous trophies to prove that.  Because of her untimely death, however, her true potential would never be fully realized or appreciated.  Sara's potential is literally thrown out with the trash as her sister, Clare discovers her trophies in the family's waste bin.  As she witnesses their parents discarding all of Sara's possessions from her mattress to her photos, Clare is struck with the painful realization that the memory of her sister is being erased.  The only solace she seems to find in this situation is imagining that one day, hundreds of years from now, someone would find one of Sara's discarded medals and remember her as a wonderfully fast and impressive swimmer.  Clare's brief uplifting hope is quickly overshadowed by her next thought that whoever were to find this medal in the future is more likely to be unimpressed by her Sara's speed.  Therefore, even though Sara may have achieved numerous accolades in her lifetime, her short and relatively uneventful life will soon be forgotten.    

Sara's job as a hotel chambermaid is also quite sad.  Much like Lisa--one of her coworkers--is unable to remember what Sara looked like in person, it can be said almost with certainly that guests of any hotel would never be able to remember anything significant about a hotel chambermaid.  In terms of labor and economics, they are a dime a dozen and the turnover rate is quite high.  In Dr. Karl's essay, Eva Cherniavsky speaks to a similar sentiment and would quite possibly label Sara's job as a chambermaid as "disposable."  I risk sounding insensitive, but the manner in which Sara dies could also be viewed as a sort of "disposal"--her body was disposed of in the same vehicle that guest's food was also disposed in.

Smith's use of a hotel as the setting for this novel is brilliant.  While hotels are a space in which intimate occurrences take place, they are also quite impersonal, if you think about it.  To the people who stay in hotels, their stay often signifies a celebration, a getaway, a significant event.  However, to the staff of that very same hotel, guests are merely a number, the new shift, the weekly turnover. And although the Global Hotel seeks to make one's stay pleasurable and unforgettable, the guests, ultimately, are just that: forgettable.  They are just a quota intended to be met and just another pound in the staff's bank accounts.  The insignificance of each guest is observed in the tiny watered-down shampoo bottles, individually wrapped Q-tips, and in the generic greetings written on stationary scattered throughout the rooms.  

So, next time I stay in a hotel, rather than feeling a sense of significance, I will instead, sense the sad emptiness of a bed inhabited by another insignificant soul, like Penny, just hours before.  I will wipe the dust from the headboard and feel the skin of another--perhaps Else's--between my fingers.  I will wave goodbye to the depressed receptionist and give the haunting young girl on the sidewalk a knowing smile.