Floating Hotel by Grace Curtis
(Hodderscape, 2024)
Reviewed by Steven French
If you liked Becky Chambers’ The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet, or ‘cosy’, character-focussed SF in general, then you’ll most likely enjoy this too. In a galaxy-spanning empire that enforces a rigid social hierarchy and chews up planets for their resources, together with their inhabitants, The Grand Abeona Hotel offers a measure of respite as it sails majestically from one star system to the next. (Appropriately enough, ‘Abeona’ was the Roman goddess of departures.) The staff are led by Carl, himself a former refugee, taken under the wing of the original owner and manager, Nina, before rising through the ranks. Remaining unflappable throughout, it is Carl who ensures that everything runs as it should, while the hotel itself slowly and gracefully runs to seed. His duty of care embraces both guests and staff and even the tough and battle-scarred, like Dunk, the sous-chef, or the sharp and sarky, like Rogan, the life-guard, turn out to have hearts, if not of gold, then at least of something noble-metal adjacent. Indeed, one of the pleasures of the book are the glimpses into their past lives, as each chapter presents their distinct points-of-view.
Into this comfortable and predictable existence, however, three different series of missives intrude. The first is a set of Shakespearean sonnets, initially thought by some to be personal love-notes. The second consists of a string of dispatches by the mysterious ‘Lamplighter’, mocking not only the aristocratic elite but, treasonously, the Emperor himself. It is these that draw the attention of the Empire’s agents, who by correlating the transmissions with the hotel’s itinerary, come to suspect that the Lamplighter is on board. The third adds a further layer of mystery as the participants of an academic conference regularly held in the hotel, are unexpectedly assigned the task of decoding a array of mathematical symbols. Taking the lead on this is a frequent guest, one Mara Azad, jaundiced Professor of theoretical linguistics, who’d much rather be in the sauna than the seminar, and Ooly Mall, early-career mathematician and, stereotypically, energy drink addict. Working together they manage to crack the code but given the references throughout to the Emperor’s acute xenophobia, it is no great leap for the reader to surmise where these particular messages are coming from.
As these various threads entwine and bind the stories of guests and staff alike, the coziness starts to fray around the edges and, in one scene of blood and brutality, evaporates entirely. Nevertheless, order and calm are restored and the book ends as it began, with Carl, still an optimistic people-person despite everything, saving the hotel, his staff and the mysterious Lamplighter in a way that is unexpected but also entirely in keeping both with his character and the tenor of the narrative.
Overall then, the book is well-written, neatly constructed and, as a result, very easy to read. Barring the odd note of stereotypicality, the characters and their back stories are engagingly well-rounded and interesting. And the hotel itself, with its steampunkish pneumatic pipes carrying hand-written messages and its huge mobile in the lobby, physically modelling its current location, is very much a compelling presence throughout. There is a caveat however: this is really ‘SF-lite’ as the story could just as easily be situated on an Orient Express-type train, trundling through middle Europe during the early part of the twentieth-century, with assorted odd characters boarding and departing and a crew of lovable misfits led by an unflappable conductor who averts disaster and saves the day. But then again, a space-bound version of The Lady Vanishes is not to be dismissed by any means and as with that movie, Floating Hotel is a satisfying way to spend an afternoon, perhaps with a cup of tea and a hobnob, or two!
Review from BSFA Review 24 - Download your copy here.