The House of Leaves
An excerpt from The House of Leaves, all credit to Alan Trotter.
I’m not sure where to start with THOL, the unique book penned by Mark Z. Danielewski. Do I start by mentioning it’s hidden puzzles and layers? Do I start from the beginning where the book literally starts? Do I start from the POV of the book’s “author” Zampano? Or from the book’s organizer and unlucky additioner Johnny Truant? OR, should it be from the owner of the house itself, Will Navidson?
The answer, much like the book itself, is unclear and obtuse, and to pick any one specific piece to focus on would be to blur out and ignore the others. I finished reading THOL some time ago and yet I keep coming back to it.
I’ve heard it described as a horror story; this much is true. There are elements of the book that border on Lovecraftian and I love those elements dearly. Others have described it as a love story, a twisted romance both of the house and the occupants therein. I can see that too. This is a book about love, about revulsion; about fear and lies and staring reality in the face.
The house itself is also another subject of discussion, see THOL is a story within a story within a story, and all of it focuses on the titular house that Will Navidson and his family live in.
The house seems normal at first, but small inconsistencies begin to crop up. Some rooms seem off, like they’re just a hair bigger on the inside than the outside; a new room is added seemingly overnight. These are just the beginning of the house’s problems. The very book itself seems to actively fight what is going on. But, I like keeping spoilers to a minimum in my recommendations, so all I’ll say is things get intense.
Does one ever really stop reading THOL? I haven’t and I’ve already finished the book! I’ve looked back over it countless times, seeing how else it can be read, seeing how else it can be understood.
If you’re looking for a strange story that can be read and re-read differently each time, check this one out. The House of Leaves is a beautiful book.
