For years my friends have been urging me to read House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. Recently, at their pushing a copy into my hands and again telling me how good it is, I finally started. It is good. Odd, but an incredible creation. And unsettlingly, even though I’m not that far into it yet.
It is a testimony to just how eerie a mood it creates that tonight after reading another section, I decided I’d best put it down, take a bath and read something else to sooth my mind before sleep, and selected The Tomb by H.P. Lovecraft as more likely to produce pleasant dreams.
MetaGrrrl 
I slept in and when I awoke, picked up the book again and lost myself for two hours in the wonderous, awesome, artful chapter IX. Seeking and then finding footnote 183. A moment of feeling conspicuous – even though no one is watching – and then running to the bathroom mirror to see. This book wants to take you in ways to which you are not accustomed; this chapter is where the reward outweighs your resistence and you really surrender.
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I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone selecting Lovecraft to get *better* dreams. What kind of scary-ass author *IS* Danielewski?
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Yessssss…. She is in the housssssseeeee now….. But have you finished it yet?
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I have and it is sitting waiting for me to return it to you. Or possibly sitting waiting for me to be walking by before opening into a great black void into which I will fall.
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Hey, didn’t that bookshelf used to reach the wall? Was that closet always there?
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