I went to a friend’s dinner party recently. Six women, all from different parts of her life. High school. College. First job. It was tense. There was an argument about who knew her longest. I thought about Elin Hilderbrand’s book the whole time. So here is the question at the heart of The Five-Star Weekend: can you really gather all the versions of yourself into one room and expect them to get along?
Hollis Shaw and the Problem of Being the Host
Hollis Shaw is a food blogger who has lost her husband. Seven months after his death, she decides to host a weekend on Nantucket. She invites her childhood friend Tatum, her college roommate Dru-Ann, her mom-friend Brooke, and a stranger from her blog named Gigi. Her daughter Caroline comes to film it.
Hollis is not a perfect protagonist. She is, honestly, a little exhausting. She wants the weekend to be perfect. She plans the meals, the activities, the matching pajamas. But she does not want to talk about why Matthew died. She does not want to admit her marriage had cracks. She avoids the truth by making a charcuterie board.
I found myself frustrated with her. Then I realized that was the point. Hilderbrand does not let her characters off easy. Hollis’s need to curate her grief is the central conflict. She wants to be the host, not the widow. But the weekend forces her to be both. The tension builds because you can feel something unraveling. I will not tell you what happens. But I will say this: the best scene involves a lobster roll and a secret that changes everything.
The Mess of Female Friendship
The core theme here is not grief. It is the lie we tell ourselves about friendship. We think our friends know us. The truth is they know versions of us. Tatum knows the teenager. Dru-Ann knows the college girl. Brooke knows the mom. None of them know the whole Hollis. And they do not even like each other.
Hilderbrand’s craft is in the small details. She describes the way Dru-Ann rolls her eyes at Tatum’s accent. The way Brooke checks her phone every five minutes. The way Gigi is too calm, too polite. The key imagery is food. Hollis cooks to control things. Every meal is a performance. But the meals keep getting interrupted. The pasta burns. The wine spills. Hilderbrand breaks the perfect dinner scene to show inner fragility.
This struggle reveals a universal pattern. We all have friends who belong to specific chapters. We rarely let those chapters overlap. The weekend is an experiment in overlap. It is messy, awkward, and sometimes cruel. But it is honest.
The Mess Is the Point
Hilderbrand has written twenty-nine novels. This one feels different. It is lighter on the surface, but heavier underneath. Any woman over forty will recognize herself in at least one of these women. The book is for people who have lost someone and then had to figure out who their real friends are. It is for people who have hosted a party to avoid a conversation.
The limitation of the book is that some characters feel sketched rather than drawn. Brooke’s plot is a little thin. Gigi’s secrets are dramatic but a bit convenient. But the overall effect is worth it.
Maybe that is what friendship really is. Not the curated weekend. Not the matching pajamas. But the willingness to let someone see you burn the pasta and stay anyway. Hilderbrand gives us five flawed women trying to do that. It is a five-star mess.
“I realized that the people who love us do not need us to be the best version of ourselves. They just need us to show up.”
