We're all enders

I just finished reading The Enders Hotel by Brandon R. Schrand, winner of the River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Prize and a Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers selection. I had looked forward to reading it because I knew he had a good story to tell-Brandon spent most of his childhood growing up in his family-owned Enders Hotel, Café, and Bar of Soda Springs, Idaho. Brandon is just a year or two older than me, so it was easy to connect his childhood and adolescent memories to what I remember of my own childhood, a time before cell phones, home computers, Netflix, Facebook, MySpace, etc. You had to make up your own fun, whether it was while reading a good book, exploring your house and town, or being with friends. (one difference was I didn't live in any hotels. I more than once, however, fantasized about my family living in Westroads Mall in Omaha. I think I was going to eat every meal at Bishop's Cafeteria and take the elevators everywhere I went. I could sleep far far away from my sister in a place like that.)

Brandon shares the stories of many interesting characters who came to the Enders Hotel to stay for various lengths of time--ex-boxers, ex-cons, down-on-their-luck families, you name it--I was sometimes afraid to read on in case something was about to go down either involving Brandon, his family, or the guests. He also shares his own personal stories of secret clubhouses, sinking rafts, childhood friendships, and some drug and alcohol experimentation that I naively didn't see coming. (although I have to say I think Brandon is the first person in my age group I've found who also remembers his parents smoking pot. I knew I couldn't be the only one paying attention to this stuff in the 70s.) Something about his coming of age antics reminds me of Stephen King's The Body.

I won't give away the ending, but I will tell you the Enders Hotel still stands. If I ever find myself in Idaho, I'd like to check it out.

Lastly, I really liked the cover. It wasn't until after it was far along in the design process and without any earlier consultation that the author told the designer that's exactly what their keys and key chains looked like. (That's the water cooler story I heard, anyway.)