House of Leaves

I will open by saying that my estimation of this book may have suffered from its reputation. I generally try not to expose myself to a lot of hype around books I'm interested in, but that was how this one even ended up on my radar. I will also say that it may appeal more to fans of horror (which is not a description I would apply to myself). That is not to say that this is strictly a horror story, but I think it overlaps more with horror than anything else. I was mostly interested because I like weird stuff, and the way this was described made it sound like it qualified there. I suppose it does a bit, but I expected more.

That said, I will give the author some credit, as I imagine this took some thought and effort to put together. I think the presentation does add another layer of enjoyment, and I like that there are a few little tidbits that open up possibilities for interpretation. However, in my opinion, none of that was enough to overcome the fact that most of the actual contents are fluff wrapped around what amounts to a pretty short story. It's not exactly pointless fluff, because it does play a role, but it is fluff nonetheless. This is where my comment in the title line comes from. A lot of it I didn't even find to be enjoyable fluff, and some of it outright annoyed me.

Despite not loving it, I don't regret reading it, because I would have been forever curious. Clearly there are people who do love it, so if you're curious I'd say it might be worth a shot.

The typesetting stuff in House of Leaves is unique, clever, impressive from a technical standpoint, and certainly not like anything I had ever seen before. Unfortunately, it is often little more than a gimmick — some of the most striking and complex printing in the entire book is used for what amounts to filler, never used for anything with more depth than adding some visual flair to a linear text. That might be enough for some, but it was hard not to be disappointed after hearing so much about the the novel's legendary reputation.

I enjoyed the book. I enjoyed the academic/informational presentation of the main text, I enjoyed the house and the analysis surrounding it, and I enjoyed some of the narrative around Johnny Truant, even if I found his footnote interjections mostly tedious and annoying, particularly earlier into the novel. I don't think I would have enjoyed these elements any less if the book's strange typesetting was taken out entirely, though, which seems like a real missed opportunity.

This is probably the strangest book I've ever read. One of those cult favourites where you'll either passionately love the book, or vehemently hate it. Everything depends upon how much are you willing to invest - when you have to read the words upside down or sometimes vertically, when there are pages after pages after pages of incomprehensible texts, when you lose control of story at every step of the way and wonder what's really happening, are the characters losing their minds or is it you - you have to remember that this is just a book. Nothing more, nothing less. Otherwise, you'll end up like me, obsessing over every tiny detail, wondering at midnight whether the emptiness and coldness you feel is just because the temperature is low or are there other factors in play.

I know. I sound paranoid. But this is exactly what the author intended.

On surface, House of Leaves is a book about a house which expands on the inside while remaining unchanged on the outside, the vast empty space consisting of nothing but darkness accompanied by a vicious and nerve-wrecking growl. But it is so much more than that. This is the story of a famous photojournalist who is retiring from his life to fix his broken marriage in a quiet, suburb place. What he gets instead is a haunted house which initially intrigues his interest, but later on consumes him completely with its idiosyncrasies. How the paranoia creeps into his wife and his friends, threatening to break their entire relations. Eventually, it becomes a tale of how love redeems him and brings them closer than ever. All this sounds like a normal story, except the way Mark presents it makes it special. You find footnotes to footnotes of a book inside the book, with narrator consistently interrupting the flow with his own, fucked up life, slowly spiralling out of control from reality.

I'm glad I picked it up. The only letdown was that I read it on kindle, 'cause I couldn't afford the paperback version at this time. But, this is a book that is meant to be read on paper. I will surely revisit it once I have the paperback in my collection.

1) "This is not for you."

2) "A little while later, when we said goodnight, Thumper gave me a big, sweet hug. Almost as if to say she knew where I'd just been.
'You're alright Johnny,' she said for the second time that night. 'Don't worry so much. You're still young. You'll be fine.'
And then as she put her jeep into gear, she smiled: 'Come down and see me at work some time. If you want my opinion, you just need to get out of the house.'"

3) "Can Navidson's house exist without the experience of itself?"

4) "Audrie, however, claims Karen only flirted and her indiscretions never went further than a coy drink or a curt meal. She maintains that Karen never slept with any of them. They were just a means to escape the closeness of any relationship, particularly the one with the man she loved most."

5) "Though Karen gives her piece the somewhat faltering title A Brief History of Who I Love, the use of Navidson's photos, many of them prize-winning, frequently permits the larger effects of the late 20th century to intrude. Gordon Burke points out the emotional significance of this alignment between personal and cultural pasts:
'Not only do we appreciate Navidson more, we are inadvertently touched by the world at large, where other individuals, who have faced such terrible horrors, still manage to walk barefoot and burning from the grave.'
Each of Navidson's photographs consistently reveals how vehemently he despised life's destruction and how desperately he sought to preserve its fleeting beauties, no matter the circumstances."

6) "(Untitled Fragment)

Little solace comes
to those who grieve
when thoughts keep drifting
as walls keep shifting
and this great blue world of ours
seems a house of leaves

moments before the wind."