This one was for me.

            House of Leaves, written by Mark Z. Danielewski, quickly became the most brilliant novel I have ever read, soon after the dedication page. It had a profound impact on me, and I’m not just saying that. The novel, with its many literary and literal twists and turns, seemed tailor-made for me to rediscover the essence of the book as a physical object and the enjoyment therein. With the constantly growing use of the internet as a medium of communication, the physicality of the book is being forgotten. It’s a shame.

            It hit me like a ton of bricks when I first admired the book at my local library (the content within, not the book itself, though it certainly is heavy enough), House of Leaves is like few other novels. The layout of the text, the appendices, footnotes, even the characters themselves can barely be contained in the pages of the book. To attempt the same feat on a single web page would be nothing short of a travesty! This novel requires a more physical presence, which I have come to appreciate upon reading it.

            Sure, those who know the novel could argue that while a single web page can’t work, maybe an entire website could be devoted to the story. Clickable links could serve as footnotes, separate web pages in place of actual paper pages, everything the internet has to offer. A piece of the charm remains absent. After all, the story of House of Leaves begins with a trunk full of documents and writings. What better way to relate the tale with its format, than to print it in book form?

            Books may be on their way out, obsolete, antique, to most that prefer to live their lives on the World Wide Web. To me, books still remain a method of temporary escape and reprieve, especially from being connected in so many ways to the electronic universe. They still remain the occasional rare collector’s item, cerebral late night snack, and a conceptual feast for the imagination. Once upon a time before House of Leaves had taken up permanent residence in my home, books were on their way out of my life. Thanks to an incredible tale and a few kind words from its author, I search to satisfy my intellectual hunger in whichever pages I may find myself. Physical pages, that is. Real books.