House of Leaves
House of Leaves is about a haunted house. Or rather, it's about the documentary that was made about that haunted house (made by Will Navidson and his friends and family). Though it's actually an academic treatise on that documentary (which may or may not exist), written by Zampano. And it also has the notes of Johnny Truant, who assembled Zampano's notes and writings into an actual book. And then there are the unnamed editors who occasionally provide a translation that Truant couldn't find or otherwise clarify something.
It's a layered book. And it keeps jumping between the stories, some of which exist only in the footnotes or appendices. The text itself plays on the confusion, by playing with font and layout. Though actually what looks like a dense, confusing book ends up being surprisingly easy to read. The book teaches you to read it as you go, so that by the time you're digging a mirror out of your purse to read a section on the metro you barely even notice the strange looks you're getting.
The strange formatting makes it feel like the book itself is falling apart, even as the lives of the various characters begin to fall apart. It adds a lot to the experience and makes for a singularly interactive reading experience. There's also an absolute treasure trove of puns hidden in the footnotes. I laughed a lot while I was reading what is primarily a horror novel.
But really this book is about facing trauma and finding a way to incorporate it into yourself. The people who survive are the people who are able to embrace their fears. And the people who can't are doomed to keep running for the rest of their lives. I was surprised by how much love and catharsis there is in this book, and it made me re-evaluate the genre as a whole.
This book is an astonishing work of art. Everything about it is so precise, that there were times I just marveled at Danielewski's mastery of his craft. I'll almost certainly be revisiting this book in the future.
It's a layered book. And it keeps jumping between the stories, some of which exist only in the footnotes or appendices. The text itself plays on the confusion, by playing with font and layout. Though actually what looks like a dense, confusing book ends up being surprisingly easy to read. The book teaches you to read it as you go, so that by the time you're digging a mirror out of your purse to read a section on the metro you barely even notice the strange looks you're getting.
The strange formatting makes it feel like the book itself is falling apart, even as the lives of the various characters begin to fall apart. It adds a lot to the experience and makes for a singularly interactive reading experience. There's also an absolute treasure trove of puns hidden in the footnotes. I laughed a lot while I was reading what is primarily a horror novel.
But really this book is about facing trauma and finding a way to incorporate it into yourself. The people who survive are the people who are able to embrace their fears. And the people who can't are doomed to keep running for the rest of their lives. I was surprised by how much love and catharsis there is in this book, and it made me re-evaluate the genre as a whole.
This book is an astonishing work of art. Everything about it is so precise, that there were times I just marveled at Danielewski's mastery of his craft. I'll almost certainly be revisiting this book in the future.
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