How to Sign a Guestbook by Karen Ackland

When you find the guestbook in the cottage where you’re vacationing you imagine your mother saying, if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Nothing would be OK with you, but then you remember you’re a writer and should write something.
    You flip through the book and note the liberal use of exclamation marks. Wonderful view! Bill and Cathy are charming hosts!! Delicious muffins!!! All these exclamation marks suggest the guestbook signers are the kind of cheerful people you came here to get away from, who presumably came here to get away from people like you.
    The view from the cottage, looking north along the rocky coast, was pictured on the Web site. It matched your expectations, and you have paid your bill. Of course you would have paid your bill even if the view hadn’t matched your expectations, so perhaps the reason to mention the view in the guestbook is to complement the owners on their lack of hyperbole.
    Cathy was pleasant enough when you arrived, but you haven’t seen her since and you never met Jim, so you can’t confirm if they are charming or not. In fact, Cathy seemed a bit resentful when you showed up, even though she cashed your deposit months ago. Of course this might mean they found other guests more charming than they found you, inviting them to a barbeque on the deck where everyone drank margaritas.
    You try not to feel excluded. You’re sure if given a chance your hosts would recognize your quiet good humor and invite you to visit again. You’d joke with friends about your home away from home but, although you wouldn’t want to hurt Cathy’s feelings, you don’t like to go to the same place year after year.
    You appreciate the specificity in the entry about muffins. Food is a subject you could write about. Yesterday the muffins left on the deck in a basket with a pot of coffee were good, if too sweet, but today’s muffins were burnt on the bottom. While you don’t mean to complain, you aren’t comfortable praising burnt muffins. You could write about the restaurant in town where you had dinner, but then it would be obvious you weren’t invited to the barbeque, and future guests might disregard your comments. That would be unfortunate because you’re sure the ahi tuna you ordered for dinner, seared quickly and still raw inside, was better than anything Cathy prepared.
    Perhaps Cathy and Jim are shy and the guestbook provides a way to communicate with them. They left a typed note by the phone, covered in plastic, which you read when you arrived. As per their instructions, you were frugal with water, wrapped your garbage in plastic, and didn’t open the sliding glass door that goes off the track in the bedroom. You could write, “Lovely view, kitchen faucet leaks.” But you already left a note for Cathy about the leak and you don’t want other guests to worry about leaks that no longer exist.
    You wonder if you have misunderstood the purpose of the guestbook, considering it a memoir when it is really closer to genre fiction. After all, there is romance in the guestbook—second honeymoons and lingering sunsets—but no sex on the dining room table.
    Probably the guestbook is not literary at all but serves the same purpose as those cheerful warranty cards that fall out of the box after you get your purchase home. Just when you are beginning to wonder if you spent too much money on a new pair of hiking boots or if you really need a stick blender, the warranty cards affirm you made a superior purchase. In the same way, the guestbook removes any lingering suspicions that the cute little inn down the road served a full breakfast and didn’t burn the muffins. You were happy here, the guestbook insists, you made the right decision.
    Your husband comes in for the second time to ask if you’re packed. You say you’re almost finished, an assurance neither of you believe. He goes back outside and you hear the tires crunch on the gravel driveway as he turns the car around. Because you’ve read the guestbook, you feel better than he does.
    “Thanks for sharing your piece of Paradise!” you write quickly and sign your neighbor’s name. “We loved the barbeque!”

About the author:
KAREN ACKLAND has been published in Quarterly West, PIF, Salon, Insolent Rudder, Paumanok Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Santa Cruz, California, where she also writes marketing materials for technology and small business clients. To read more of Karen's writing, visit her Web site at www.karenackland.com.