You wouldn't understand
I finished reading ‘house of leaves’ whilst my mother was dying only to discover that the book itself was a reaction to the author’s Father dying of the same thing.
This book really struck a chord, I can see many a shape and character unfold in both my life and Navidson’s not least the parts about him being a photographer.
The various narrators moods flux and influx when speaking free minds to you, when you (like them) try to make sense of a seemingly impossible new environment. This warp of a psyche I can relate to, some days I can feel it bend and contort beyond any shadow of recognition.
I struggle to see this book as anything other than a book about love and death and a coming to terms with them both. Two agonizing beauties I have come to know well.
Mark Z. Danielewski, I declare with Lips too cold to pray and too dry to sing that these images are for you and our amorous sleepers, now let them sleep in unimagined bliss for death cannot touch the secrets of their souls.
Posted by ELLEN JANE ROGERS at 6/03/2010
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