Its denizens are a host of disabled children who are ostensibly there to learn and be provided personalized medical care. It’s unclear whether the House is truly an entity, whether it’s simply a conduit for something entirely different, or if, perhaps, those who live in it have merely dreamed it all up. The House is a liminal space between reality and a surreal secondary world which may or may not truly exist. The reading experience nearly evokes Mervyn Peake’s Gormenghast novels in the pictures and images it creates. The book reminded me of nothing so much as City of Saints and Madmen by Jeff Vandermeer a great deal is interconnected and requires that the reader be actively involved in pulling out the different threads of the story. In terms of genre, this is an excellent example of weird, surreal, slice of life fantasy with a dose of magical realism. I loved it so much that my blog title is a reference to this book, even. I loved the characters, I loved the prose, I loved the structure, and I loved the surreal sense of mysticism and deep unease that permeated the whole of the House. I loved the whimsy, I loved the quirkiness, and I loved the constant uncertainty. I genuinely, unabashedly adored this book. The answers to all our questions are right around us, all we have to do is find them. But there must have been a purpose to them lying forgotten and lost in some corner all this time, right? And then being found suddenly? They might contain some sort of magic. “These things are nobody’s things,“ Tabaqui insists.
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