On the internet, our demographics, preferences, and interests are closely monitored by Big Tech companies seeking to increase their profits. They track our keystrokes, time spent on web pages, and behavior to better understand us. But what if this information was shared with a government aiming to monitor our every move, not just to enforce laws but to predict and prevent crimes? This is the premise explored by Pulitzer Prize finalist Laila Lalami in her latest novel, “The Dream Hotel,” released this month.
In this gripping narrative reminiscent of the dystopian themes in Margaret Atwood and Franz Kafka’s works, protagonist Sara Hussein faces a harrowing ordeal upon her return to Los Angeles from a conference in London. Due to a sleep device unknowingly transmitting her dreams, Sara is flagged as a potential threat for violence and detained in a “retention center.” Her stay, initially meant for observation, is extended multiple times by the center’s staff for trivial reasons, subjecting her to a restrictive environment.
Sara, like Lalami herself, is of Moroccan American descent. Lalami, known for delving into her heritage in previous works such as “The Moor’s Account,” a 2015 Pulitzer finalist, and the bestselling “The Other Americans” from 2019, crafts a narrative that reflects on societal issues and personal identity.
The novel’s backdrop is a society shaped by the aftermath of the Crime Prevention Act, enacted following a tragic event during a Super Bowl halftime show where lives were lost on live television. The Act empowers authorities to leverage commercial data for law enforcement purposes, leading to increased surveillance and preemptive measures against potential threats.
Under this new regime, individuals like Sara are subject to intense scrutiny, with personal data and even dreams monitored for signs of deviance. The narrative unfolds within a system where suspicion can arise from mundane life events, and citizens face intrusive government oversight in the name of public safety.
As Sara navigates the challenges at the retention center run by the Safe-X company, her longing to reunite with her family underscores the human cost of a surveillance state. Lalami paints a haunting picture of a world where dreams are scrutinized as a means of law enforcement, reflecting on the erosion of personal freedom and privacy in the pursuit of security.
In a poignant observation, Lalami writes, “Police officers used to patrol neighborhoods they called ‘rough,’ stopping and searching people they thought were suspicious, now they sift through dreams.” Through “The Dream Hotel,” Lalami invites readers to contemplate the consequences of a society where the line between security and surveillance blurs, and individual freedoms hang in the balance.
