do you have any horror book recs about fucked up houses? i just finished reading the haunting of hill house for the first time and im now in love with the idea of a building or house being a character in the story
House of Leaves is about so much more than a fucked up house but it is also in part about a fucked up house and I cannot recommend it enough. Also: A Stir of Bones by Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Hörrorstor by Grady Hendrix, and Man, Fuck This House by Brian Asman. Reprieve by James Han Mattson's fucked up house isn't sentient but that book is also incredible. Likewise, the fucked upness of the house in In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado is abuse rather than architecture, but the book is very good. And Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff has a fucked up house, amongst other things.
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Grain elevator at Collingwood, Ontario. Like a big spooky house.
(Library and Archives Canada)
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Thinking about John with all the posts on the dash. Thinking about how he was such an emotionally cowardly person?
Like a brave mean tough son of a bitch who'd do what had to be done? Yes
A loving if deeply flawed father who'd face down hell and all he hates for his sons? Yes
But a coward in the face of his own shortcomings and shame? Yes
Like - let's lie to Sam his entire life and say it's to protect him when really I'm terrified of what it all might mean. Keep Sam from the burden of knowledge about how his mother died and what it all might mean, even if not knowing puts him in danger, even if it won't protect him at all, even if he's a goddamn target and needs to know -- and pretend it's protection instead of terror guiding that choice.
Because if you hide the truth long enough, then maybe just maybe you'll never to look at him and see a monster. Maybe you'll never have to look in his eyes and see the horror when he learns the truth. See the betrayal.
Because if you bury the truth deep enough maybe Sam and Dean will never learn that Mary sold them to this.
(Because John must have known, have learned at some point, we know the entries in his journal of the parents and families that Azazel visited, families that John interviewed. He knew, eventually. He was protecting her memory too, too cowardly to face that truth either.)
He does the same thing with Ellen. Never tells the boys who she is, that she's a friend, an ally, a person they can actually trust and rely on. He hides her existence from them because he blames himself for Bill's death, and ultimately he's just protecting himself from the shame. From his kids hearing that story, from having to reckon with it. He cuts Sam and Dean off from a genuine ally in his fear and in his selfishness.
(and if we allow that Kripke originally intended for Jo to be John's daughter, he cut his kids off from their actual family, their sister, so as to hide the evidence, the shame of what he did with Ellen when Bill was still around. Maybe even a little the shame of stepping out on the memory of Mary. And look where that gets Dean and Jo.)
Look at all the ways John's secrets come back to bite people, the very people he pretends he's protecting by lying to them. Lying doesn't keep people safe, it never keeps them safe. He knows what Mary's lies brought to their family.
He knows better, and yet. And yet. That's the lie he tells to himself.
It's selfish and self-serving, a child hiding the sheets after wetting the bed. It doesn't change the smell of piss.
John loves his sons. He loved his wife. He might even have loved Ellen. Loves too, in his own ornery way, Pastor Jim, Bobby, Caleb. None of this diminishes that, nor that he wanted, desperately, to protect them.
But none of that love or hope or courage or intellect diminishes this either, that John is fearful, is cowardly with his shame, and he hides like a child rather than trust the ones he loves the most.
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I recently bought a Lego "mini architecture" kit and assembled it, then sent a photo of it to a friend to brag and had the best possible exchange about it.
Important context: my friend works for the federal government in Washington DC.
[ID: A text exchange with said friend; the first text is an image of a tiny Lego model of a building with columns, high arched windows, a latticed roof, and a little cupola on top. My friend asks, "Is that the Fed?" to which I respond, amused, "It's the Disney Haunted Mansion." She says "I mean. Same energy." and I reply, "Neoclassical architecture: inherently cursed? It's possible."]
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