Title: House of Leaves
Author: Mark Z. Danielewski
Publisher: Pantheon Books, 2000
I finished House of Leaves about a week ago, maybe more.
I would really rather not open it again.
First, the style:
This is what I would call a postmodern novel. In essence, that means it won't follow certain rules that one expects novels to follow. This includes publishing various editions of the text (see the bottom of this page), providing an unbelievable number of footnotes (here), and using multiple voices in the text.
At other points in the book, Danielewski bends the rules of presentation. Take this page, which is pretty representative of the book at its strangest. Elsewhere, pages contain one sentence or fewer, like this. The layout of the novel challenges expectations of what a novel is.
The story is even crazier. In fact, which story should I start with?
Zampano is an old blind man who dies. Johnny Truant finds Zampano's manuscript, The Navidson Record. Johnny Truant reads Zampano's book and slowly goes crazy transcribing it. What we read is mostly The Navidson Record by Zampano. The Navidson Record is about a movie, invented in Zampano's head, with the same title. In the movie, photojournalist Will Navidson, his partner Karen Green, and their children make a documentary about moving into their new house.
They soon discover this house is larger inside than outside--it has extra rooms, mysterious pitch-black freezing-cold rooms.
Wait, let me go back. Maybe "They SOON discover" is being too kind.
Zampano loves his digressions. And in his insane made-up world, The Navidson Record (the film) has a cultural impact on the level of the Bible. So every two pages or so, he stops and lets us know what the experts, the academics, the obsessive Navidson freaks--none of whom are real, remember--have to say. He has made-up quotes ranging from Good Housekeeping to Psychology Today. These account for many of the book's obscene number of footnotes.
So the story plays out pretty slowly, but it is interrupted every few pages by a rambling Johnny Truant footnote. Truant is an aimless drug addict, teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown. His footnotes wander aimlessly, grasping at some sort of bizarre half-reality in which he fears The Navidson Record and yet devotes his life to it.
Those are the players. Navidson, Zampano, Johnny Truant.
Now, let me go way back to when I first opened this book, in my parents' house, just before I came back here to Dayton at the end of spring break. My mom saw me with House of Leaves open and stopped in her tracks.
"Don't read that," she told me.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I tried to read it once. I had to put it down," she said. "It gave me a bad feeling."
Truly a ringing endorsement. But I pressed on. C'mon, it's a fucking book.
Well, in some ways I see what she meant. It's just not pleasant to read. Something about it is...not threatening, exactly, but upsetting. This is probably the most effective book I've ever read. It really makes you feel wrong.
At the same time, the layers of symbolism and hidden meaning are incredible. At least once a chapter, I would lower the book in shock because Danielewski just blew my mind again. The characters are perfectly crafted, and the action is so painfully paced--Zampano sets the story aside for six pages, then suddenly things are happening like crazy--that I couldn't put the book down, even though I knew it was making me feel bad.
The horror story is incredibly effective--I really care about the characters, I am really frightened by the mysterious evil, and I really want to know what the fuck is going on. Danielewski's greatest success, I think, is keeping the nameless terror in the void just beyond the reader's grasp.
The book is a success in many, many ways. Its haunting themes and eventual conclusion are wonderful. It truly is frightening and unsettling, and its characters are all fantastic.
So what does it do wrong? The same thing, I think, that At the Drive-In does wrong, for many people. It just won't stay put. It won't act right. In some sections, parts of words or entire words are missing, burned by ashes, Johnny Truant tells us. In other cases, Zampano has removed text with ink blots, which Johnny Truant represents with bold black XXXXs. The novel refuses to be contained, grasped, or mapped out. Its unrelenting confusion can turn people off.
That said, I've already had a few requests to borrow the book. Patrick Coate gets it first, and I'm sure he'll enjoy it. Mostly.
Oh, I never explained why the word house is always presented in blue. This occurs in the book, of course, and it is never explained there. In fact, it's thrown in the reader's face in the index (of course House of Leaves has an index); the index reads "house (blue)," followed by many entries, and "house (black)...DNE". So there. I don't know why he does it, but it adds to the unsettling feeling in its own way.
Summary: House of Leaves is one of the most challenging books I've read recently. It defies explanation. It is only approachable as an engima, a wall to climb, and its success lies in puzzling and disturbing the reader. Don't come to this book lightly.
Grade: I'm very tempted to give House of Leaves two grades; one if you're ready for the book and one if you aren't. But I think I'll settle for a B. I don't think it did anything wrong, and I don't think it could be improved in any way, so in that way it gets an A. Ultimately, though, I can't give something an A if I don't think people will like reading it. Think of shredder guitarist Steve Vai. He doesn't play poorly, but he sure shouldn't get an A--I can't get through two of his songs myself. So:
Grade: B.
Please, ask any questions you have. I'd be glad to deflect and ignore them.
One more thing: any day now, my new opinion article should appear at the Flyer News website. It's a good one. Enjoy.
Love,
Steve
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