Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves was a big hit among followers of horror literature in 2000. It was the only horror novel that has actually scared me as an adult. The second night I was reading it, I actually had to turn on extra lights and check to make sure the walls of my apartment were staying where they should have been.
That good, and that scary.
And we haven’t heard a thing since.
It’s a rare event that I like a horror novel anymore. But I loved House of Leaves, a gripping story about a house whose dimension on the inside exceed its dimensions on the outside, about a legacy of madness, and a lingering sense of irrelevence and helplessness.
Shear terror, and shear brilliance.
So, in 2005, I hope to hell we see a new novel from Danielewski, wherever he is.