House has been on my shelf for a couple of years, and it was one of the novels I didn’t make it to on last year’s spooky October list. I made it first this year to be sure I actually got to it, and I’m sorry that I bothered. I read and liked Frank Peretti’s Veritas Project novels when I was younger, but they in no way prepared me for this. There’s a lot of bitterness ahead; you may want to bring an umbrella. Spoilers will be clearly marked. Trigger warning: rape.
Two couples find themselves trapped in a house in the middle of nowhere while a killer stalks them. Once they’re forced into the basement of the house, the killer preys upon their worst fears and tries to convince them to kill each other before dawn.
I reserve one star ratings for that special blend of structural and ethical failure. This book isn’t just a disaster of bad writing; it’s actually offensive. In a year and a half of running a book blog, I’ve never had to give something one star because there’s almost always something redeemable about a novel, even if it isn’t for me. But the more I thought about House, the angrier I got.
Let’s start with structural failures, since that’s usually what I focus on in my reviews. I care about how novels are put together, about how they work or don’t work, and this novel doesn’t work. The beginning is a mess of horror cliches, from the car breaking down to the creepy, backwoods family living in the only house for miles. There are rip offs from any number of horror films, and House brings nothing new to the concepts. The middle is a lot of aimless running through rooms in the basement that could never logically exist, with no attempt at explanation, and then it just spirals into absurdity. White wants them to kill each other; in a game based on sin, it doesn’t make sense for any of the characters to think that murder will help them win. For a horror novel, there’s nothing remotely frightening about it except how awful it is.
A big part of this failure is in character. I don’t care for novels where every single character is a selfish jerk; they’re not even unlikable in an interesting way. Randy is a cliche of a male villain, and Stephanie is so vapid it’s almost criminal. Along with the outright violence against the female characters, there’s a casual sort of sexism going on as well. The girls are frequently slapped or told to shut up, even though they’re hardly the most offensive characters on the page.
As for the thematic failures, I should point out that I’m not the audience for this book. Frank Peretti and Ted Dekker are well-known Christian writers, and I don’t particularly subscribe to that faith. The thing is, I shouldn’t have to. If the book is well-written, it has the potential to appeal to anyone, and I’ve been moved by Christian subtext in the past. (Supernatural? Constantine? Love them. You don’t have to believe in heaven and hell and redemption to love them.) But the mythology is so shallow and so beaten over the head of the reader that it’s nauseating. There’s no attempt at subtlety, or even at bringing a new angle to old ideas. It’s as flat and tasteless as the rest of the novel.
What bothers me most about House is the overall message that all the characters are SINNERS and ATHEISTS who should be punished. There’s a long tradition in scary movies that characters who “sin” will die first (no drinking, no drugs, no sex), and it’s not even slasher movies that have taken this up; the entire Saw franchise is based on punishing so-called evildoers. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t like any of the characters in House, but that doesn’t mean they deserve what happens to them, and I dislike the very heavy-handed implication that they do.
The worst part is, again, the sexist implications this has for the women. There’s an underlying message that Leslie deserves to be violated by Pete because she’s a whore, and I’m about eighty-seven kinds of uncomfortable and pissed off about that. It’s rape apology at its finest hiding behind so-called faith, and I’m so offended I almost threw this book in the garbage. I’m not sure it’s doing anyone a favor to donate it. (Also, I hope that line about White really being black is metaphorical, or we have a whole other set of problems.)
SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS. TURN BACK BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.
The failure to make sense of all the rooms in the basement is poorly explained away by saying it’s a reflection of the characters’ insides. Er, okay? That’s actually worse, since Leslie is the only one for whom this parallel really makes sense, and it’s outright offensive. Then there’s the fact that Lawdale is the villain. There’s a big reveal for it toward the end of the novel, as though we’d never seen a single horror movie. Naturally, he’s in on it; he’s the one who leads them off the trail to begin with. Susan, save us sinners and feminists from this bad writing.
I review regularly at brightbeautifulthings.tumblr.com.