House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski is a complicated and psychological, imaginative book that plays around with the concept of narrative. House of Leaves is actually about a book inside of a book, written by an elderly man named Zampanò who had strangely passed away in his boarded up bedroom. This book was found by a man named Johnny Truant, who reads it and then describes to us his slow and painful deterioration (in multiple ways), which he explains will happen to us (the readers) when we read the book, too.
Then no matter where you are, in a crowded restaurant or on some desolate street or even in the comforts of your own home, you’ll watch yourself dismantle every assurance you ever lived by. You’ll stand aside as a great complexity intrudes, tearing apart, piece by piece, all of your carefully conceived denials, whether deliberate or unconscious. And then for better or worse you’ll turn, unable to resist, though try to resist you still will, fighting with everything you’ve got not to face the thing you most dread, what is now, what will be, what has always come before, the creature you truly are, the creature we all are, buried in the nameless black of a name.
I really like this quote because you can interpret it however you want, because Johnny Truant never actually explains what this deterioration was even about, or specifically cause by. I choose to believe this quote really digs into what actually makes us humans, what we are built by and around and most importantly, what we build. Denial. It goes to show how, we are so built up of our denials, we become a different person, we change in some sort of way, and when we are stripped of that, we are back to what we truly are: a creature, without a name because none of us even know who we are anymore. Then, you’ll watch, and realize, and try to stop the shredding of your skin, of your identity, the one that never really belonged to you. And you’ll fight and resist the grab in which your belongings and your walls are torn apart by, but you can never truly stop it, because in the end, you are still denying yourself.