House Of Leaves: Counterfactual Review.

HOUSE OF LEAVES

by Zampanò Johnny Truant Mark Z. Danielewski

Pantheon Books, 2000

** 1/2.

HOUSE OF LEAVES was not written by Jorge Luis Borges, and indeed would not have been written by Borges even if it had been. This is because Borges is, in large part, known for thinking "Say, wouldn't such-and-such make a great book?" followed by "What a pity I'd have to write it," followed by "Say, why don't I not write it and say someone else did?" followed by "Then I can just write a review of it!"

HOUSE OF LEAVES, as I say, was not written by Borges, and is in fact one of the books not by Borges that Borges never even thought of not writing. Still, though not written or even thought of by Borges, it is one of those books that, had Borges thought of it, Borges would never have written.

HOUSE OF LEAVES is a book about a book about a book about a film about a Shirley Jacksonian fractally-dimensioned evil or at least bad-tempered HOUSE, wherein most of the books, the film, and their authors (not to mention the HOUSE) don't exist, never existed, and never will exist, except in such cases where they actually do, did, or will, except in the case of the actual book HOUSE OF LEAVES, which itself has had at least one edition that, apparently, did not exist. It is constructed in large part of erudite fictional reviews and fictional commentaries on the film at its heart, including denials on the part of the reviewers and commentators that they ever reviewed or commented on the film (although they may be lying, despite the fact that the film does not exist). All of this adds up to an illusion of depth, which is the pen-ultimate concern and theme of the book, expressed both literarily and literally.

Or, at least, so I understand.¹

¹I do not know it first-hand, for I have not actually read HOUSE OF LEAVES, but merely read about it; for, after spending considerable time reading reviews of and commentaries on the book, it dawned upon me that the only genuine way to respect the Borgesian philosophy of it, despite my curiosity, is to not read it but review it anyway.