Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves is full of evils: monsters, spaces that defy physics, paranoia, murder, suicide, addiction; but a theme that goes curiously unexplored in academic discussions regarding the beast of a novel is the inclusion of sexual violence.

What is even curiouser is that most of the examples of sexual violence are surrounded by discrepancies over whether or not they actually happened. For example: Johnny’s mother Pelafina attests that the staff of her mental health hospital are raping her; Karen Green’s estranged sister says that they both were raped by their step dad and put down a well; Johnny’s lover reveals that she was raped, but then takes it back and is angry that she said anything.

The most interesting examples, I think, are the ones that Johnny gives by ascribing false stories to the women of his friend Lude’s sexual conquests. Why this transition from lightheartedly and superficially toying with sex and romance, to viewing it as something possibly dark, disturbing, and wrong? Why are these anecdotes included, and how does it affect our psychological understanding of the characters, storyline, and house itself, if it should affect it at all?

On the most superficial level, it seems to be a parallel to the house. Our homes and our sexual experiences are supposed to be comforting, enjoyable, and generally positive. When these expectations are violated and transformed into something invasive, dark, wrong, and negative, it seems especially heinous and disturbs us at a deeper level.

The references to rape and other forms of sexual violence also accentuate the theme of repression in the novel, and the way the house feeds on the deep psyche of the people inside it. Freud’s theories regarding repression come into play here: Sexual violence in House of Leaves is perhaps the most poignant example of repression and resulting conditions, such has post traumatic stress disorder. Karen never even enters the labyrinth until the end–as a last resort to save Will–due to her intense claustrophobia, undoubtedly a result of being put down a well after being raped by her stepdad (if that really happened).

The labyrinths of the house are even described as a “spatial rape,” so it’s confusing to me that such a glaring aspect of the novel has been so thoroughly ignored.The most reasonable explanation I have is that it’s socially unacceptable to discuss uncomfortable sexual experiences and their effects on victims, so critics have easily ignored its inclusion in House of Leaves when there is such a ridiculous amount of other interesting themes and conundrums to discuss. It’s fairly easy to get around: Freud talks about repression? Let’s talk about Johnny! Karen has claustrophobia? Well at least she overcomes it! Johnny makes up stories for Lude’s partners? He’s crazy!

The fact is, though, that this is a hugely interesting aspect of the novel, and we shouldn’t ignore it. The references to sexual violence should be enhancing our understanding of the novel and the characters, because it’s the most disgusting, influential, and (arguably) important evil in the novel.

A book designed perhaps just to be as complicated as possible, Mark Z Danielewski’s House of Leaves (2000) is a puzzle of sorts, with layers that must be solved before other sections can be viewed clearly. One of the main ways in which a puzzle is presented is that of the footnotes by “author” Johnny Truant. The fictional character that splits his time between compiling a dead man’s life work and nights of binging on alcohol and drugs is a complex point of access to the intentions of this book. Written as a man plagued by perhaps some very serious mental conditions, Truant’s voice is heard almost purely as footnotes in the text. In these footnotes he often goes on long seemingly unrelated tangents. A first glance at these ramblings would assume them to be just the ramblings of a man highly distracted from his work, but knowing the context of the text and the vision with which it was made one can assume that there is some greater meaning to these drawn out passages. With Zampano dead Johnny is the most direct point of access to the manuscript and therefore the way in which he is established as a character can add a great deal of context to the story. Much as the house drives the residents and their friends crazy the writings seem to drive Johnny into some disconnected state when he is studying them. This fascination goes beyond normal boundaries, perhaps approaching obsession at times. It is never clearly stated whether Johnny’s lack of focus can be attributed to the writings, drug use, or just some mental handicap left untreated but this ambiguity serves the same purpose as much of the rest of Danielewski’s tricks to make the book into a riddle. The main focuses of further work on this topic will be delving into possible parts of the manuscript that spark Johnny’s tangents as well as the reverse in how the footnotes provide a deeper understanding of the main text.

In House of Leaves, we are only told Navidson’s story through Zampanò’s text. When Johnny remarks that many of the books cited in the footnotes are fictitious (xx) we immediately begin to question the reality of the narrative. In fact, as we continue reading, we realize that it’s quite likely that Zampanò fabricated the whole story.

The Navidson Record is title of both the film about which Zampano is writing but also the title of his writing. When it’s called “a hoax of exceptional quality,” the statement can just as easily refer to Zampanò’s writing. An unconscious example of Zampanò hinting at his authorship is on page 320: “[Tom] might have spent the whole night drinking had exhaustion not caught up with me.” Zampanò’s typo can be seen as a Freudian slip admitting to his part in making up the story.

Zampanò describes the film so thoroughly that he must have a copy of it to study while he writes about it. However, in the six sets of instructions at the beginning of the appendix (530-5) he doesn’t include any stills from the film or primary sources (The Reston Interview and The Last Interview are noted by the editors as missing). It is uncharacteristic of the thorough and meticulous compiler of data that he shows himself to be throughout the text.

The Delial narrative has an obvious real-life parallel that is acknowledged by the editors on page 368. The editors suggest fictionality by saying that Delial “is clearly based on Kevin Carter’s 1994 Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph….” Again, such a studious researcher as Zampanò would have certainly mentioned the parallel. The fact that he ignores it shows that he doesn’t want to draw attention to it.

Lastly, in one of his handwritten notes (552), Zampanò muses “[p]erhaps I will alter the whole thing. Kill both children” and goes on to describe the deaths of Daisy and Chad inside the house. Zampanò has left behind evidence of a potential plot point that he decided not to use after all.