Still, by Design. was written in this building — at the desk, in the dawn hours, between pouring the first coffee and the first guest coming down. The Inn in the novel is this Inn. The mountain is that mountain. While you are here, the whole book is open to you.
The way something is built is the way it is felt.
The complete book, in your hands, for as long as you're our guest. Ask the front desk for the word.
→The drone in A — the sound beneath the film, held for half an hour. Dim the screen and stay.
→The literary companion to the novel — the writing behind the writing. Read an issue.
→A signed digital edition for your own shelf, to open long after the mountain is behind you.
→A line, a photograph, the day it belonged to — kept in the house's own book of guests.
→A few times a year — a new book, a night worth driving up for, a note from the desk. No noise, no selling. Written by the same hand that wrote the novel you're holding.