If this is a microcosm of a luxury resort hotel in Florida, give me Imperial Palace and Grand Hotel instead. For a shoddy piece of fustian this one turns out to be, with scarcely a moment of relief from tedium. Even the hotel is never convincingly plush; it seems to be simply a Hollywood front, with pretence and shabbiness, sordidness and perversion, eccentricity and dullness behind the scenes. Room by room, with excursions into the offices, the reception desk, the elevators, the bar, for variety, the reader is introduced to the pathetic- and almost never amusing- characters grabbing at the shreds of life for entertainment. There's drama and melodrama, there's tragedy --with indifference, there's distortion of romance, and there's very little honest emotion or honest laughter. And the style, supposedly keyed to the changing personnel, irks rather than reveals. I should think it would take more than Auntie Mame to rescue this.