Kim Possible :kimoji_fire:<p><span class="h-card" translate="no"><a href="https://a.gup.pe/u/bookstodon" class="u-url mention" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">@<span>bookstodon</span></a></span> I've also completed a review of HOUSE OF LEAVES, by Mark Z. Danielewski, a challenging and very long book, prompting a very long review:</p><p>First off, you will either dig this book or abandon it pretty quickly. There is no in-between. Definitely one of the strangest books I've ever read. It's dense with etymology, literary references, parallel plot lines, and at times, seems absolutely impenetrable. It requires effort and time.</p><p>I am in the category of those readers fascinated by this multi-layered and heavily detailed story. Imagine how hard it would be to write this. I think it took the author ten years to put it all together. </p><p>The book is hard to explain because it is both esoteric and experiential. It relates to tricks of the mind, the hypnotic, deep, and slippery nature of darkness. It asks more (impossible) questions than it answers. </p><p>What are we more afraid of: what we see, or what we can't see? The one thing we know from this book, is that darkness is not nothingness.</p><p>The reading of the footnotes concurrently with the main narrative is essential to understanding the story as it unfolds, because it is part of the main story. And there are some true gems either hidden or right there in plain sight. I particularly loved the real information embedded in fictitious articles referenced, such as the revelation that the etymology of "to read" and "to reason" have the same Greek and Latin roots as "to fit" or "to arm." This suggests that interpretation of this story involves not just our analytic mind, but also the active fight it takes to make sense of what is happening, and what it all might mean. </p><p>All information, commentary, and cataloging of events, funnel down to a single inescapable question: Which is scarier: to be lost in reality, or to be lost in your own mind? And add its corollary: If reason fails, must we resort to violence? (If it doesn't fit, we must fight.) If all the walls of your reality fail, it will be up to you to construct your own.</p><p>The interrogation of terror by this author is mind-boggling in both depth and scope. The indescribable feeling conveyed here reminds me of an experiment in which a subject is enclosed in a "quiet room" that has been engineered to be absolutely completely silent. The combination of solitary confinement in a vacuum, and a space so still that you can hear the blood flowing in your veins, is enough to freak people out almost immediately. I think the longest anyone could stand to be in there was 15 minutes. We are much more sensitive to our perceptions than we realize.</p><p>The comparison of the confounding maze of dark corridors in this story to the famed labyrinth of Greek mythology is obvious. But, taken one step further, this labyrinth is constructed both in reality, and in the mind. And yes, the labyrinth in the mind also has a Minotaur of its own, but no helpful thread from Ariadne. Can you really escape either, without successfully navigating both? There are no arrows to mark the way of the mind. The comparison of the house to the labyrinth of the Minotaur can only be seen generally, as there are many differences. People enter this labyrinth in the house voluntarily, and this one stretches and contracts. The strongest parallel is that both are born of family dysfunction. </p><p>Johnny Truant is the world's most unreliable narrator, but there is symbolism to be unearthed and sifted from his rambling musings. I was particularly struck by his casual mention of his mother being institutionalized at "the Whale" and other mentions of both Jonah and the Whale, and Ahab and his White Whale. Remember that Jonah had to be flung into the dangerous dark not once, but twice, so that others might find peace. </p><p>The author brilliantly employs various representations of replicating, never-ending, directionless, shifting reality, even in the layout and text of the book itself. One such way is by making enormous lists that seem to go on forever, and that appear backwards, upside down, sideways, in italics, even in different font styles and sizes. This achieves a kind of vertigo in the reader. It is truly disorienting. Even the placement of the amount of text on the page expands or contracts the amount of blank space, which correlates to the expansion and contraction of shifting spaces within the house's labyrinth. </p><p>The theory that differences in how large or small the caverns of the house are perceived directly depend on each person's mental state and history at that moment, actually makes sense to me. I know that perception can be interpreted differently by the same person at different times. I have traveled a road from one end of a small island to the other, when it was undeveloped, and it seemed to take forever because the view from the car never changed: obscured by trees on both sides. Years later, I traveled that same road, but by then it had been completely developed on both sides. The road seemed impossibly shorter, because there were visual breaks instead of that long unbroken view of thick forest on both sides. It also reminds me of how on a flat desert road, you can become hypnotized by the far horizon, and it may seem as if you aren't moving at all, that the horizon is always the same distance away. This phenomenon also explains the common fear of outer space: the unknown, so much nothingness that goes on forever and cannot be circumscribed or contained. There's nothing to hold on to. It's terrifying. The more frightened you are, the bigger it seems or the more you feel like you're trapped. </p><p>At the same time, there are numerous breaks from the tension, much of which is devoted to exposition and/or character development. I admit my absolute fascination with the word play asides and etymological deep dives, especially the origin and multiple meanings of words compared to their references in ancient texts. So, not only did I learn to interpret these references in new ways, I also saw them as clues to the story itself: particularly the examination of "Echo/echo" and of the Biblical story of fraternal twins Jacob and Esau. Such a simple concept, but it was a revelation to see Echo as both personified and as an expression only through the voice of others. It suggests that the house is alive only through the lives of those who inhabit it. Will and Tom are also fraternal twins with opposite personalities. If the comparison to Jacob and Esau is true, "The first shall be last" sounds ominous. Of course, "The first shall be last" can be interpreted in many ways: diminished status, relegated to last place, last one to make it, or last one standing? Will was the first to investigate the mysterious hallway in the house. That has to be significant. The book itself suggests that the fact that Tom and Will are twins does not make them antagonists. Tom is just too passive. Holloway is a better stand-in for the violent struggle for dominance with Will Navidson. </p><p>As I was reading, trying to figure this all out, I kept wondering if the house fed on fear, or just fed on interaction. We've heard that paranoia will destroy you, but bravado does not seem to favor the explorer, either. Maybe the real saying for this situation is "The House always wins." When Tom makes jokes to keep his spirits up, and utters the line "His house lasts until judgment day" that struck me cold. When a place is described as being "as dark and cold as a grave" they rarely mean the depths of the mind, but maybe they should. There is a thread connecting the symbolism in this story with The Library at Mount Char. It hit me with the discussion of the Minotaur and Perilaus' Brazen bull. A terrifying epiphany. It's also interesting that both the brazen Bull, and Jonah's whale, refer to the "belly of the beast," which is, in turn, an apt description of the dark recesses of the house. </p><p>Meanwhile, every chapter of this book conjured a philosophical question. Most often: "Do we transform any space simply by being in it?" We can blame the house for everything, but in the end, it's people who haunt themselves. I never got an answer to this, but I kept wondering if one of the characters in the novel was actually a constructed persona for another character, through which he could process his trauma.</p><p>Halfway through the novel, what drove Zampanò remains a mystey, though we have gained a better idea of what forces of the past have caused this peculiar obsession to consume both Holloway and Johnny Truant. Motivations for the others are pretty clear, too. I did think, for a while, that in Holloway's wandering, he was trying to escape a being, when he was really escaping *being*. </p><p>An unexpected revelation of this novel was how we interpret someone else's experience by filtering it through our own. I had to smile at that one fun section whereby the author imagined how each esteemed person or celebrity who was asked to give feedback about this crazy house story resorted to their own pet perspectives. The only response that was objective was by Walter Mosley. Assuming the responses were written in reflection of how they would respond in real life, it made me want to read his work. At the other end of the spectrum, did Mark Z. Danielewski ever have a real life beef with Hunter S. Thompson? The fictionalized representation of how he would respond makes him look like a malignant narcissist.</p><p>How are we to define THE HOUSE OF LEAVES? Is it horror, a tragic play, experimental fiction, all of the above? It's the nesting doll nature of the layered narrative that sets it apart. Its very oddness is what makes it work. Both myth and urban legends find their connection in a story like this. We like a thing that could be true. It must straddle the line. I will have to complete a re-read at some point, because no detail seems superfluous and the meanings of the poems listed at the end of the book eluded me entirely. They do seem heavily haunted, referring to things only the poet would know. Quite frankly, some seemed like the work of a disturbed mind.</p><p>There are several references to the title of the book, though which one resonates will depend on the reader. The one that clicked with my understanding of the story was near the end:</p><p>"Little solace comes<br>to those who grieve <br>when thoughts keep drifting<br>as walls keep shifting<br>and this great blue world of ours <br>seems a house of leaves</p><p>moments before the wind."</p><p><a href="https://beige.party/tags/books" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>books</span></a> <a href="https://beige.party/tags/bookstodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>bookstodon</span></a> <a href="https://beige.party/tags/horror" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>horror</span></a></p>