Quirky story that was heartwarming at points but the pacing of the book took me out of the reading experience. The story was also very predictable and at the end I felt glad that the book finished which isn't the feeling one should ideally have when a book finishes.

This book was really melancholy, which was a bit difficult to read during a pandemic (though it's my fault for waiting so long to read it). It was also really philosophical, which isn't really my cup of tea. Surprisingly, I didn't hate it, but it was just OK to me.

This is a strange, intriguing little book. Philosophical and full of that Scandi melancholy and somewhat darkness, yet I could not stop reading it. And it offers a full hand of guarded, realistic - but yes, hope.

Jónas is a man who has lost the meaning of his life. His wife divorced him and accompanied the end of their marriage with the information that his only daughter is not his. His mother is slowly dying, he has no education...nothing but his capable handyman's hands. So he decides to die. Driven by the fear of his daughter (one can not change the love to the child even after the information, right?) finding his dead body, he chooses a country without a name, we only know that there has been war recently. And this country, torn by war as it is, can change Jonas's life.

I do not like everything about this book (too much unnecessary philosophy), but do I like Jonas and I like the message of this book. One truly can find meaning when doing something for others. One can heal this way. And one can find and give hope.

Strange little book - yet how enriching, deep read this is.

Since this book was winner of both the Icelandic Literary Prize (2016) and Nordic Council Literature Prize (2018), I figured Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir was a good Icelandic female author to add to my repertoire of Nordic literature. It was a quiet and enjoyable story about an almost 50-year old man who feels his life has lost meaning after a recent divorce during which he also learned that his daughter is actually not his own. He travels to an unnamed war-torn country by the sea with the intent to end his life, but instead he begins to find new purpose. What was supposed to be only a few days visit with no return turns into a weeks-long stay. It’s a moving and heartwarming story of unlikely friendships as he gets to know people who have suffered much more than him and second chances both for him and the people he helps.

Short and melancholy book. I didn't really enjoy it honestly and I'm not sure who I'd recommend it to.

Jonas wants to end his life. After knowing that his daughter is not his and him being divorced, nothing is exciting as it was supposed to be in life for Jonas. So he goes to a faraway country (unnamed) only because he doesn’t want his daughter to find the body and be forced to clean out his apartment.
But once he is in the unnamed country and stays in Hotel Silence, slowly he sees the life around him, totally different from his. He is back in demand. He finds a purpose.

Slow paced but it explores the human emotions beautifully.

- liked the melancholy and at times pure sad tone of the work
- death as per se was very tangible (not bad, I liked it.)
- very little direct speech, which I admire, as well. Not many authors manage to bring the story forward without constant dialogues
- I loved the "power of kindness and altruism" (evne the accidental one)
- The book could have done with a bit "more" but it still was a fantastic read!

Check out this book on Goodreads: Hotel Silence http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38324273-hotel-silence

Sometimes to save yourself, you have to find others to save instead. Jonas flees to a near-term country to kill himself. While his daughter may not be his daughter, and his wife no longer his wife he does want them to find his body and feels this is the best way. Somewhat sad, definitely wistful, but ultimately heartwarming, this novel is a quick read and an important reminder that we are all part of a larger world.

Fiction is full of tales of redemption featuring characters who are pulled back from the brink and given either a second chance or a transformed outlook.

Quirky, fun read that develops slowly, but in the best possible way - a thoughtful novel that reminded me a bit of A Gentleman in Moscow.

A story of a man who can fix anything but not himself.

Jónas Ebeneser is a man beset by misfortune. His wife left him, his mother is succumbing to dementia, and the daughter whom he loves and believed was his own is someone else’s. Jónas is not a man who destroys things, but rather a man who fixes things that are broken but he cannot fix himself, so he sets out on a life-changing, mind-altering expedition planning to make it his last. He is a thoughtful man, after all, wanting to spare his family from cleaning up the mess of his demise. He chooses a war-ravaged danger zone for his destination where, with luck, he may step on a land-mine or find himself in the path of a stray bullet. When he arrives, he checks into the dilapidated and almost empty Hotel Silence which has seen better days. Unlike other men who travel with their toothbrushes, Jónas is a man who travels with his drill and uses it to do repairs for the brother and sister team who are running the hotel and ends up doing jobs for various other people in the town. By extending his stay to accommodate everyone, he prolongs his life and even begins to appreciate it.

Jónas asks questions that many of us should ask ourselves – will the world miss me? Will the world be any poorer without me? Will the world survive without me? Is the world a better place now than when I came into it? What have I done to improve it? The book also makes you realise that it is only when you do things selflessly for others that you can truly appreciate your life and see your self-worth. By helping someone who is in a worse situation than yourself you can regain your purpose in life because it allows you to focus on someone else and not yourself.

Saphira

Breakaway Reviewers received a copy of the book to review.

"From internationally bestselling author Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir, a charming and tender novel about a recently divorced man on a life-changing journey into a war-torn country, where he finds the tools to mend the lives of those he encounters."

Yeah, the description is so non-existent this is all cover lust!

The title of Hotel Silence by Audur Ava Olafsdottir (translated by Brian FitzGibbon) in the original Icelandic translates to "scars." That is the heart of the book all the way up to and including the very surprising ending. Each person bears the scars of his life. The scars of physical wounds are visible, but the scars of emotional wounds manifest themselves in different ways. Jonas thinks his path takes him to ending his life. In helping others, he finds himself. Therein lies the lesson of the book.

Read my complete review at http://www.memoriesfrombooks.com/2018/06/hotel-silence.html

Reviewed for NetGalley

I had no expectations whatsoever and I admit that during the first couple of chapters I felt a bit lost in the story. It felt like there were missing pieces to it, and not the kind the reader fills out in her/his mind. Tbh, at first it felt like this was a short story someone tried to stretch out. Nevertheless, as I kept reading I started to feel more connected to the characters and understand how the author created their connections to each other and what it all means. The last few chapters had a completely different rhythm and fit perfectly to story. I loved the ending!!

This was just a really depressing story about a really depressing man who just wants to die. I understand that it was supposed to be meaningful and deep but I just felt bored. It wasn't like "A Man Called Ove" where I actually felt connected to the main character, I felt nothing for this man or his situation. I know that sounds cold but I just didn't understand what was going on.

sweet story - great novels coming from Iceland lately - quirky a bit but good writing style - enjoyed it.

Jónas Ebeneser isn't quite 50, but his life seems to have come to a harrowing end. He's lost his wife, his daughter, and his business. He feels there is only one thing left to do... end it all at a hotel in a far away land, but this is where Jónas' life takes an unexpected turn and he finds that he has something more to give.

I love how the redemption of the run down Hotel Silence runs parallel to Jónas' own spiritual redemption.
I would recommend this book to anyone, regardless of their usual reading tastes. Hotel Silence offers a story that anyone could find meaning in, and I believe the greatest books are ones that create an experience that brings people together, from all walks of life. This one hits the mark.

Hotel Silence tells the story of Jónas, a man in his late forties who’s decided to end his life. He goes on a journey to an unnamed war-torn country to spare his daughter the horror of finding his body. It was an okay read. It was interesting to read about a country grappling with the aftermath of war. However I don’t think I connected with any of the characters in the story.

I notice that my reading and viewing material over the last week is full of suicide. This concerns me a little: Is the universe trying to tell me something? Has the universe always been trying to tell me this thing and I'm just now noticing?

About behaviour completely incomprehensible to me.

[I don't mean to suggest anything in common among these works apart from this broad subject, but 2 novels (Hotel Silence and The Zero and the One) and 2 films (The Sense of an Ending and The Child in Time) have circled round each other and brought me here.]

Hotel Silence, by Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir, is a slight novel, about a man in the grips of midlife crisis. Perhaps "grips" is too strong a word. More like he's nudged up against some uncomfortable emptiness. Maybe this is crisis for some people. [I'd've thought that the Icelandic disposition had an affinity for emptiness.]

Though Jónas is not sensitive to it, his friend Svanur is also in crisis.

<blockquote>I hear him say that he suspects Aurora has started to read poetry.

"When I slipped past her through the bathroom door last night, she said that I was eclipsing her horizon."

He shakes his head.

"Sometimes I feel it's better to think about Aurora than have her beside me. She'd never understand that."</blockquote>
(As if poetry were some kind of disease!)

Jónas buys a one-way ticket to an unnamed country in the aftermath of war, the perfect setting for the act he intends to commit, ostensibly to spare his daughter the trouble of finding his body. But Jónas unexpectedly finds himself outside his own head.

<blockquote>"Will you be gone? In ten days' time?" she asks with feigned nonchalance.

I reflect on this. In the land of death there isn't the same urgency to die.

"No, I don't expect to be gone," I say. And I think, this is the kind of place to linger in.</blockquote>

He doesn't exactly find purpose, but he gains perspective on his troubles and on those of others, perspective on what matters (spoiler: kindness!). (This plays into the question of whether depression is a first-world problem, but doesn't explore, or exploit, the issue — to the novel's credit, I think.)

Favourite sentence: "She slides against me and I feel her closeness grow like a full moon."

I'm somewhat surprised that this novel should have received the accolades it has. Thank goodness it steers clear of sentimentality; its stillness saves it. It's quiet, somewhat unfocused, ultimately tragic in a totally unexpected way. Perhaps like most of our lives.