House of Leaves
Just finished reading House of Leaves. What a trip/journey/interesting read. It took me only a few days to read it, and the bulk of it was done in two days. Those two days were pretty intense, I'll admit.
I'll start with recording some of my favorite quotes from the book:
"Lude would never feel how 'empty hallways long past midnight' could slice inside of you, though I'm not so sure he wasn't sliced up just the same. Not seeing the rip doesn't mean you automatically get to keep clear of the Hey-I'm-Bleeding part." -pg. 49
"'Nice to meet you,' she said in a way that almost sounded like a psalm. And then even though she clearly enjoyed the effect she was having on me, she turned away with a wink, leaving me to ponder and perhaps pray.
"At least I had her ten words: 'hello thank you what's your name nice to meet you.' Ten whole fucking words. Wow. Wow. Wow. And hard as this may be for you to believe, I really was reeling. Even after she left the Shop an hour or so later, I was still giving serious thought to petitioning all major religions in order to have her deified.
"In fact I was so caught up in the thought of her, there was even a moment where I failed to recognize my boss. I had absolutely no clue who he was. I just stared at him thinking, 'Who's this dumb mutant and how the hell did he get up here?' which it turns out I didn't think at all but accidentally said aloud, causing all sorts of mayhem to ensue, not worth delving into now.
"Quick note here: if this crush-slash-swooning stuff is hard for you to stomach; if you've never had a similar experience, then you should come to grips with the fact that you've got a TV dinner for a heart and might want to consider climbing inside a microwave and turning it on high for at least an hour, which if you do consider only goes to show what kind of idiot you truly are because microwaves are way too small for anyone, let alone you, to climb into." - pg. 53
"The crowd believes the tears are a sign of gratitude while we the audience understand they are tears of loss. The king's heart breaks, and while he will go on to be an extremely just ruler, it's a justice forever informed by the deepest kind of agony." - pg. 111
"David Copperfield: It looks like a trick but it's a trick that constantly convinces you it's not a trick. A levitation without wires. A hall of mirrors without mirrors. Dazzling really.
Karen: So how would you describe the house?
Copperfield: A riddle.
[Behind him the Statue of Liberty disappears.]" -pg. 364
And then there's the whole Douglas Hofstadter / GEB reference, which I won't reproduce here because if you want to get it you should read through both books. Yup, that's me referring you to over 1k pages of reading just to get one paragraph-long reference. You'll be better off for it, though.
In reading a bit about the book, I found out one interesting tidbit - Mark Danielewski wrote the book while residing in Berkeley. This is interesting to me because I pointedly did not want to read that book while I was living in Davis, even though I've had it around for several years now. I even kept it on my Shelf of Honor, which is the shelf with my favorite books, be they fiction/non-fiction/scientific/technical/biographical. But for some reason I didn't want to touch it while living in the new house, and I never found time to read in the house before that. I think I was waiting for the right kind of environment/architecture to read it in, and this place, with its mysterious attic, old leather couch, cracked floorboards and mysterious levers (!) seemed to draw the book out of hiding and into my hands. I read it in a week, with the bulk of the reading occurring on Wednesday and Friday of this week. (Fizz - sorry I was MIA, but I was lost in a lightless labyrinthine hallway.) I'm really glad I waited until now.
The book's central metaphor is of the mind's internal structure being reflected in one's physical surroundings - in this case, in the actual architecture of the space around the characters. Since our minds are plastic, the same is true of the walls of that house. I've always been very sensitive to the nature of the space around me, and a big part of why I wanted to move to Berkeley is that I have always felt better adapted to the architecture around here - it's designed for the sustained support of people's livelihoods, whereas that of Davis is aimed at baseline survival for the transient student population; it's as if Davis homes tend to have a narrow view of what kind of lives they can support, but Berkeley homes are, like the town's residents and neighborhoods, made to accommodate whoever shows up in them. That's my first attempt at describing the distinction I experience between the two. Anyway, I'm not at all surprised Danielewski wrote the book in the same town that pulled the book off my shelf and into my lap.
I also think the book was an interesting companion for me in the last two weeks, when I was constantly changing my surroundings between the familiar-uncomfortable/unfamiliar-comfortable (Davis/Berkeley). It's interesting; while the house in the book changes due to its inhabitants fragmented mental states, I found that changing my environment served to solidify my own identity. This has almost always been the case for me - I feel far more at home with myself when I'm on the move than when I'm stationary, with the exception of waking up to fog/rain, which always makes me feel at home, and lord help you if you try to get me to move in those circumstances. Those mornings remind me of living in Holland... but that's a different story.
I have been meaning to write more in here, since things are changing so fast for me nowadays, but funny how when you have so much to say you also have so many other things to do than to say them.
Before I bid you adieu, I will give you this for good measure:
I'll start with recording some of my favorite quotes from the book:
"Lude would never feel how 'empty hallways long past midnight' could slice inside of you, though I'm not so sure he wasn't sliced up just the same. Not seeing the rip doesn't mean you automatically get to keep clear of the Hey-I'm-Bleeding part." -pg. 49
"'Nice to meet you,' she said in a way that almost sounded like a psalm. And then even though she clearly enjoyed the effect she was having on me, she turned away with a wink, leaving me to ponder and perhaps pray.
"At least I had her ten words: 'hello thank you what's your name nice to meet you.' Ten whole fucking words. Wow. Wow. Wow. And hard as this may be for you to believe, I really was reeling. Even after she left the Shop an hour or so later, I was still giving serious thought to petitioning all major religions in order to have her deified.
"In fact I was so caught up in the thought of her, there was even a moment where I failed to recognize my boss. I had absolutely no clue who he was. I just stared at him thinking, 'Who's this dumb mutant and how the hell did he get up here?' which it turns out I didn't think at all but accidentally said aloud, causing all sorts of mayhem to ensue, not worth delving into now.
"Quick note here: if this crush-slash-swooning stuff is hard for you to stomach; if you've never had a similar experience, then you should come to grips with the fact that you've got a TV dinner for a heart and might want to consider climbing inside a microwave and turning it on high for at least an hour, which if you do consider only goes to show what kind of idiot you truly are because microwaves are way too small for anyone, let alone you, to climb into." - pg. 53
"The crowd believes the tears are a sign of gratitude while we the audience understand they are tears of loss. The king's heart breaks, and while he will go on to be an extremely just ruler, it's a justice forever informed by the deepest kind of agony." - pg. 111
"David Copperfield: It looks like a trick but it's a trick that constantly convinces you it's not a trick. A levitation without wires. A hall of mirrors without mirrors. Dazzling really.
Karen: So how would you describe the house?
Copperfield: A riddle.
[Behind him the Statue of Liberty disappears.]" -pg. 364
And then there's the whole Douglas Hofstadter / GEB reference, which I won't reproduce here because if you want to get it you should read through both books. Yup, that's me referring you to over 1k pages of reading just to get one paragraph-long reference. You'll be better off for it, though.
In reading a bit about the book, I found out one interesting tidbit - Mark Danielewski wrote the book while residing in Berkeley. This is interesting to me because I pointedly did not want to read that book while I was living in Davis, even though I've had it around for several years now. I even kept it on my Shelf of Honor, which is the shelf with my favorite books, be they fiction/non-fiction/scientific/technical/biographical. But for some reason I didn't want to touch it while living in the new house, and I never found time to read in the house before that. I think I was waiting for the right kind of environment/architecture to read it in, and this place, with its mysterious attic, old leather couch, cracked floorboards and mysterious levers (!) seemed to draw the book out of hiding and into my hands. I read it in a week, with the bulk of the reading occurring on Wednesday and Friday of this week. (Fizz - sorry I was MIA, but I was lost in a lightless labyrinthine hallway.) I'm really glad I waited until now.
The book's central metaphor is of the mind's internal structure being reflected in one's physical surroundings - in this case, in the actual architecture of the space around the characters. Since our minds are plastic, the same is true of the walls of that house. I've always been very sensitive to the nature of the space around me, and a big part of why I wanted to move to Berkeley is that I have always felt better adapted to the architecture around here - it's designed for the sustained support of people's livelihoods, whereas that of Davis is aimed at baseline survival for the transient student population; it's as if Davis homes tend to have a narrow view of what kind of lives they can support, but Berkeley homes are, like the town's residents and neighborhoods, made to accommodate whoever shows up in them. That's my first attempt at describing the distinction I experience between the two. Anyway, I'm not at all surprised Danielewski wrote the book in the same town that pulled the book off my shelf and into my lap.
I also think the book was an interesting companion for me in the last two weeks, when I was constantly changing my surroundings between the familiar-uncomfortable/unfamiliar-comfortable (Davis/Berkeley). It's interesting; while the house in the book changes due to its inhabitants fragmented mental states, I found that changing my environment served to solidify my own identity. This has almost always been the case for me - I feel far more at home with myself when I'm on the move than when I'm stationary, with the exception of waking up to fog/rain, which always makes me feel at home, and lord help you if you try to get me to move in those circumstances. Those mornings remind me of living in Holland... but that's a different story.
I have been meaning to write more in here, since things are changing so fast for me nowadays, but funny how when you have so much to say you also have so many other things to do than to say them.
Before I bid you adieu, I will give you this for good measure: