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An unusual quiet descends on the house.

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Many critics of The Navidson Record have humorously added lines in their reviews about the comparative youth of the so-called characters depicted within. A line that is quoted consistently throughout papers is David Kahn's iconic phrase: "Karen Green, a 37 year old woman, should not have been within the depths of that house. Being youthful, she should have instead been at the club."⁶⁹ Several responses to this paper have pointed out that just prior to the filming of The Navidson Record, Karen Green had been attending numerous clubs.⁷¹

⁶⁹ See David Kahn's Ramblings and Blatherings about Ash Tree Lane, Tumbler Magazine, August 8th, 1994, reprinted December 16th, 2022⁷⁰

⁷⁰ Club, my ass. Lude tried to take me there last night. He called me and said something along the lines of "we should go out tonight, Hoss--coke'll be cheap." I can't remember now. I just thought about the club, and it made me think about the poles there, pillars, like Greek architecture, monster and mansion combined. I didn't sleep. I told him I'd be there, but I didn't show up. He didn't call back when I didn't show. Something's tearing apart my seams. Unraveling me like a ball of thread. I'm tired of this cat that's playing with me. The claws are sinking in, tearing neon markers... Five more minutes.

And I'll be there.

⁷¹ Expanded on further in Chapter IX.

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picture that. in your dreams.

at long last: the house of leaves poster! I love this book so much. it is such a fucking pain in the ass to read at times but it's so so worth it.

notes:

why is fire so hard? why?

those are all my hands... more or less.

spent way too long squinting at blurry photos of hot oil scars for this

if I fucked up the stairs, no I didn't, blame the house

the God quote is my favorite but also wow there are so many killer lines I totally forgot about

johnny truant I love you will navidson I love you zampano you verbose bastard I love you too

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𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

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This took me an hour to make in Instagram create tab

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ok. Narrative obfuscation in House Of Leaves. It’s a relatively simple story about a man who moves into a house with his wife and kids, and the house is haunted. That’s it. The core themes are very transparent.

Except, that story is documented by a famous war documentarian, then published as a series of rare tapes, which are discoursed by film buffs, then interpreted from viewings and reading film critique by a blind old man, then his thoughts are transcribed into a manuscript by a series of young women, which is then compiled from scattered notes by the most mysoginistic, damaged, toxic pothead drop-out who won’t stop talking about his life, which is THEN edited and published by some vaguely nefarious agency who soberly refuse to provide any clarification or context.

It’s not simple, but there are so many different hands on the wheel with wildly differing opinions that you can’t discern the truth.

Johnny Truant is such a miserable hopeless fuck up. He has no sense of academic rigor or archival professionalism. Any interference he provides only muddies the waters and taints what would otherwise be a gripping piece of metaphysical film criticism. His neurotic rambling and personal anecdotes cloud an otherwise reasonable story.

If he wasn’t in it, if we could read Zampano’s manuscript directly, WE would be able to understand the truth. We would get it completely, and we wouldn’t have to encounter so much violence, so much miserable graphic detail. It would be a better story.

And fuck it, if we didn’t have to read all of Zampano’s tangents and analyses and interpretations, if we could just find a copy of the famous “five-and-a-half minute hallway” vhs, if we could SEE it, we’d understand. We wouldn’t need endless pontification of what Navidson and Karen’s marriage might entail, or recitations of what a director once said in a Rolling Stones article. We’d see the hallway itself, stretching out into what should be the backyard, and we’d get it. Hell, Zampano is blind in his old age. He can’t even watch the damn movie! But we could. We’d know instantly, the second we saw it. The impossibility of it, the gravity of it, the weight of that dark abyss.

And well, the VHS recording is a little dark, and the quality is poor, and maybe the white balance isn’t so perfect. And actually, VHs tapes could be manipulated. We can’t be sure that Navidson isn’t just using clever videography tricks to invent a hallway. If we were there, if we found the house (it’s in virginia, isn’t it? we even have the address). If we GO there, we could look down that hallway. And it’s dark, so if we just brought a flashlight, maybe took a few steps inside-

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my dealer: got some straight gas🔥😛 this strain is called house of leaves😳 you'll be zonked out of your gourd💯

me: yeah whatever. i don't feel shit

5 min later: dude i swear the house is 1/4" bigger on the inside

my buddy, will navidson, pacing: our house is God

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Oh hehe that's funny, why is the cover of this book a quarter of an inch shorter than the insid-

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house of leaves is the perfect book for people who love wikipedia but wish it could be scarier

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>first day of a class that the professor stresses is very difficult

>ask if it’s challenging material or taught poorly

>professor doesn’t understand

>pull out a diagram showing what is challenging material and what is taught poorly

>professor laughs and says “it’s a good class, sir”

>look inside

>taught poorly

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ending every fully botched sentence with "thats my sentence i hope u liked it"

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"Camilla Hect, yet another of devotion's casualties"

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Doodles