This is the most recent novel by Rick Moody, and of the three I’ve read in the last couple of weeks, it’s the one I liked the most. It’s the only one of the three that supports the playfulness of the language in the story and structure of the novel, and it’s the only one for which the voice employed feels remotely “realized”. There’s not much real plot here, but instead what we’re reading is a series of long reviews of hotels across North America […]
As I write these lines it’s early spring in the Northeast, and Americans of every age and station are getting back into their cold, muddy, salt-befouled automobiles.
Hotels of North America by Rick Moody
