This story is a fable about the purpose of life, the
vanity of earthly greatness, ambition, pride. The guest has lofty ambitions for his
life, not because he wants to improve mankind, but because he wants to be remembered.
Ironically, the reader discovers that he has really done nothing remarkable and yet, he
makes comments that imply that the family with which he is visiting is wasting their
lives. The guest is a wanderer and has no connection to humankind whereas the family,
although perhaps not doing anything remarkable to ensure that they are remembered when
they pass on, nevertheless are in community with each other. They enjoy each other's
company, they like to sit by the fire.
The major irony of
the story occurs when they are all destroyed by the landslide, yet nothing remains of
the ambitious guest. What does remain are small, poignant tokens of the family that used
to live in the house. These tokens leave the reader to ponder what is really important
in life - living it while you can, doing something to improve the lives of those left
behind, or going around telling people how great you are and how insignificant everyone
else is.
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