House of Leaves 
An Untraditional Horror Story

Mark Danielewski’s House of Leaves (Pantheon Books, 2000) is no ordinary horror story or haunted house narrative. It’s written as an academic text by the recently deceased Zampanò, commented on by building resident Johnny Truant, and edited before publication. Zampanò writes about The Navidson Record, a film about a family who moves from New York to Virginia for a quaint suburban life. They quickly discover oddities about the house–a quarter inch larger inside than outside, a hallway leading into a maze of darkness, and an endless spiral staircase that expands or contracts at will. The staircase movements are so disorienting that at times, you must rotate the book on specific pages or flip through multiple pages to finish a single sentence. You literally experience the environment as if you’re in it.

But Zampanò hardly stays on task, straying into tangents on carbon dating and sound frequencies. Truant also gets off topic, but his tangents are life experiences that illustrate his gradual descent into insanity. The irony isn’t lost on readers–an unreliable narrator commenting on an academic text written by an unreliable narrator. Unable to trust the narrators, you’re constantly speculating what will happen next, hooked on every page.

This is on-brand for both characters, but the tangents make the story incredibly boring at times. We’re invested in the dual narrative: the mystery behind the house and the outcome of Truant’s newfound madness. It’s clear that The Navidson Record is propelling Truant’s spiral, but the rambling forces readers to labor through pages of fluff. Yet the tangents are critical to the novel’s character development. Without them, it might not be obvious that Zampanò and Truant are as conceited as Danielewski leads us to believe. Zampanò's arrogance comes in the form of posing as an expert on what he rants about; Truant's is dismissing Zampanò as a fraud while highly exaggerating his ability to attract women. This mirroring effect keeps you on your toes whenever the novel switches narrators.

In addition, the house’s impact on the characters adds a layer of realism to an otherwise imaginary setting. Zampanò delves into the house’s role in the relationship between Will Navidson and his partner Karen, adding anecdotes from Karen’s past to flesh out her persona. In this way, Danielewski builds her into a strong, standalone supporting character rather than simply a plot device.

Karen initially ignores the house’s oddities and forbids Will from exploring the mysterious hallway. She gradually breaks free of her dependence on Will when he’s presumed dead (before he reappears). Even after acknowledging that she doesn’t need him, she realizes how much she loves him when, after having taken their children back to New York while Will continues exploring the house, her heart hurts without him. She ends up going back to Virginia to be with him. Her character arc adds a refreshing tenderness to what would otherwise be a quirky horror story.

If you’re a traditional Stephen King horror fan, this book may not quite hit the mark. But if you enjoy psychologically-driven novels that mess with the characters’ minds (or horror without the gore), House of Leaves is right up your alley.

I could go on and on about the novel: The Navidson Record appendices, Truant’s emotionally-charged relationship with his mother, and the gripping conflict between three hallway explorers. Instead, I’ll wrap up by echoing Truant’s warning about opening Zampanò’s manuscript.

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If you’re gonna pick up House of Leaves, be ready. Once you’re enveloped in the book’s maddening darkness, the only escape is finishing the final page.