House of Leaves
by Mark Z. Danielewski
PLOT SYNOPSIS (from Amazon)
Years ago, when House of Leaves was first being passed around, it was nothing more than a badly bundled heap of paper, parts of which would occasionally surface on the Internet. No one could have anticipated the small but devoted following this terrifying story would soon command. Starting with an odd assortment of marginalized youth—musicians, tattoo artists, programmers, strippers, environmentalists, and adrenaline junkies—the book eventually made its way into the hands of older generations, who not only found themselves in those strangely arranged pages but also discovered a way back into the lives of their estranged children.
Now made available in book form, complete with the original colored words, vertical footnotes, and second and third appendices, the story remains unchanged. Similarly, the cultural fascination with House of Leaves remains as fervent and as imaginative as ever. The novel has gone on to inspire doctorate-level courses and masters theses, cultural phenomena like the online urban legend of “the backrooms,” and incredible works of art in entirely unrelated mediums from music to video games.
Neither Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist Will Navidson nor his companion Karen Green was prepared to face the consequences of the impossibility of their new home, until the day their two little children wandered off and their voices eerily began to return another story—of creature darkness, of an ever-growing abyss behind a closet door, and of that unholy growl which soon enough would tear through their walls and consume all their dreams.
Series: Single Book
Age Recommendation: 18+
Content Notice: Strong obscenities, explicate and pervasive sexual content, thematic elements, drug use, horror elements, and really bad life decisions
Faith Based: No
ISBN: 978-0375703768
Overall
Characters
Story/Plot
Writing
Setting
Consistency
THE BOTTOM LINE
Messy, uninteresting, and remarkably empty for all it contains.
THOUGHTS…
House of Leaves begins with the words, “This is not for you.” It was right in my case and, I dare say, for anyone who likes good books. Some people have described the positively glacial pace of this story as a slow burn. It burns so slowly, in fact, that the fuel source is entirely intact by the end. The novel is ridiculously light on plot even with two mostly unrelated storylines running concurrently. Each one is sufficient for a short story, but even taken together, they cannot adequately fill the allotted pages in this book. To make matters worse the story randomly switches back and forth between the plotlines through the use of footnotes, a term I use here in the broadest possible sense. This stylistic choice is far from the only unorthodox decision in this book. Extraordinarily unusual use is made of text layout and orientation in an attempt to produce feelings of claustrophobia, acrophobia, confusion, and many other effects. I am not necessarily opposed to unusual visual arrangements of text to induce desired emotions or feelings, but this book is ridiculous on its face in this area and, more importantly, fails to produce the desired emotions. Additionally, the story is constantly interrupted by scientific-like examination of the story, treatises on marginally related topics (ex. explaining the science of echoes), and frequent forays into the drug fueled sexual escapades of a person who is reading or perhaps writing the very book we are reading. These idiosyncrasies draw attention to themselves and this, combined with a format seemingly designed to separate the reader from the action, a person writing a journal about a book about a documentary about a haunted house, ruins any chance of immersion and makes the novel feel very safe. Not once during my reading of this book did I feel anything remotely approaching fear, despite the fact that I am normally a wuss about such things. The only positives are a joke I found pretty funny, and the fact that it is a relatively short and easy read once you move past the clutter. In sum, House of Leaves is messy, remarkably empty, uninteresting, not scary, and fails in almost every way to accomplish what it sets out to do. I do not recommend anyone to purchase it except, perhaps, as a prank gift.
RANTS AND RAMBLES
- DISCLAIMER: When I review books, weaknesses and inconsistencies tend to dominate my discussion; therefore, I will emphasize that any particular rant (and, yes, they can be long-winded) does not have special bearing on my unified opinion of the book. For this, please refer to my overall star rating. Additionally, this review is my personal opinion, intended to help like-minded readers navigate the plethora of available options. Use it as a tool but do not assign undue importance to it (i.e. feel free to disagree with me).
- This book has a joke about monks which I found to be pretty funny. It is sandwiched between two other jokes and it feels like the author thought these gags were hilarious and wanted to share them with the world, so he included them. With very little/no impact on the story, their inclusion seems gratuitous. It should be instructive that one of the most memorable things about the book is a joke with no bearing on the plot.
- Perhaps the worst part about this book is the pretentiousness. Due to the construction of the narrative, there are often invented “quotes” from fictional and sometimes non-fictional people pontificating about the mental, moral, and philosophical aspects of the story. This feels like Danielewski wanted to speculate about odd dreams and their underlying meanings but could not find any weird enough to suit his fancy, so he invented one. Yes, this is clearly just my interpretation; however, providing praise for or analysis of one’s own book in the text of said book is about the most self-entitled, egotistical, and meta form of pretention I can imagine.
- Much can be said, and probably has been said, about the odd formatting and textual layout decisions of this book. I went in with an open mind. After all, maybe they would function well in the context of the story. At the very least, there is nothing wrong with experimenting. The main problem with the odd layout is that all instances either add nothing to or even detract from the novel. Many “footnotes” destroy the emersion and exist solely as a vehicle for Danielewski’s second plot line. The only thing these notes have in common with actual footnotes is that they are located at the bottom of the page. When they don’t go on for multiple pages, that is. The footnotes which do not fall into this trap add only marginal value to sell the world the book is set in. As to the main text of the book, some blocks of words have no bearing on the story at all. Others are organized to elicit specific feelings. For example, the words in one section are organized like a ladder while the character is climbing a ladder. Or as an arch for a wide-open cavern. Or to make the reader feel the ceiling or walls closing in. Some pages have sideways or upside-down text. Others contain only a single sentence or word. None of this has the intended effect. Indeed, having to periodically rotate the book or otherwise fight the formatting to read the text only made me realize one thing very clearly: this is a book. It obliterated any chance of suspense or immersion.
- MINOR SPOILERS: The setting and world of the book have a lot of potential. For example, the basic core element of the story is pretty frightening on its face: a malevolent house which lures in people to maim or kill. The non-Euclidean nature of the house is also scary, making way for expanding and contracting corridors, rooms, and stairwells, halls sloping in both directions, and shifting walls in an ever-changing labyrinth, theoretically impossible to solve. The idea of a monster stalking from the shadows should be terrifying. The house intensifying core traits of anger, violence, cowardice, etc., while not original, is interesting and scary. Perhaps most of all, the idea of a space in which things which are not thought about quickly disintegrate and disappear is terrifying and unique. Yet, the detached nature of the narrative, the bizarre style which constantly reminds the reader that this is a book, and unhelpful interjections breaking the tension and suspension of disbelief absolutely butcher any horror potential the story has.
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