House of Leaves

When I picked up this book, I didn't know what I was getting into. I was intrigued by the description and a few of the reviews so I went ahead and read it. For those who want to know whether or not they will like this book:

- It is experimentally told, and a lot of the writing reads like a textbook.
- You have to read the footnotes and the appendixes or it is not worth it.
- None of it is true. Not even within the book itself.
- It's “meta”
- It is smart and knows that it is smart. It dares you to have any opinion of it at all. It dares you to try to understand. If that bothers you (which apparently it does for some people), then don't bother.
- It doesn't end with a tied bow and you will realize right away that there is no way that it could.

I won't say that I liked this book. I won't say that I disliked this book. I will say that I enjoyed reading it, if nothing else because it is unbelievably clever. I enjoyed how it toyed around with my mind. I enjoyed the brash contrast between static academic writing and heart-rending poetry. I laughed at myself as I flipped to the appendixes, balancing multiple book marks, as my arms got tired from holding it up and flipping back and forth. Sometimes I thought it could not possibly go anywhere, other times just one line or footnote struck me and I had to pause to think and feel before continuing on. I honestly liked how foolish I felt reading it and how foolish I felt trying to understand it, and even how foolish I feel trying to understand the end now.

The poem the title comes from does a better job of summing up the book than any review:

“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.”