Sick Houses: Haunted Homes & the Architecture of Dread by Leila Taylor

Sick Houses book cover

Author Leila Taylor

Major thanks to Repeater Books and NetGalley for providing me with an advanced copy of Leila Tayor’s new book Sick Houses: Haunted Homes & the Architecture of Dread. I previously read and loved Taylor’s other book Darkly: Black History and America’s Gothic Soul. I was so glad to find this book, especially looking at the well designed cover and captivating title. As Taylor states in her introduction, she’s “drawn to houses that feel wrong for whatever reason.” While this book examines some of the more popular haunted house stories and films, it also examines some interesting and sick houses that have captivated Taylor for various reasons. Furthermore, Taylor also examines how these kinds of haunted house stories make us feel, likening the feeling of a kind of invasion or unwelcoming to other stories like possession and exorcism stories, where our most sacred and personal spaces are often invaded or overtaken by some unwelcome guests. The book is broken up into different types of houses where Taylor goes on to examine representations of these kinds of haunted houses in history, folklore and legends, books, films and television shows. I read some reviews that were disappointed that Taylor’s book examined popular representations of these kinds of houses, but for those criticisms, I think they missed the point and many of her observations of real houses and some of the true stories behind popular representations of haunted houses (like the Psycho house and how it compares with the house of Ed Gein, whose story influenced the book Psycho, and the Hardesty House from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which was influenced by Psycho). Furthermore, much of Taylor’s analysis is rooted in history and social movements that influence the styles of homes and the social push for home ownership in mostly American culture. In particular, Taylor closely analyzes class distinctions in housing, and how homes and their designs as well as their interiors are often representations of class. I found her analysis and careful observations of these differences and themes in haunted house stories, myths and representations to be both distinctive and well-researched, leading to a fascinating read that challenged my thinking about the space of a home, as well as the physical features and the meaning of a home (as opposed to a house). 

The first chapter, “American Houses”, explores the idea of home ownership as part of the American Dream, and examines some horror stories and films in which that dream is destroyed by a haunted house. It’s interesting to see how popular this idea is in films especially from the 70s and 80s, and how this coincided with increased home ownership in suburban areas. As Taylor notes, many of these families are white, middle class families that are often moving due to new situations like jobs or the need for more space. Starting with The Amityville Horror, where the family was the first to own a home in generations, their desire to own property and a part of the American dream also comes at a price when they buy a home discounted due to the gruesome murders that occurred there. Other films like Poltergeist also posit the idea that the ground upon which the home is built is cursed due to moving bodies. These two films in particular are some of my earliest horror memories, since I feel like they were always on TV when I was younger. Poltergeist was always such a fascinating and scary movie since the family seemed a lot like mine, yet the experiences in the home were so graphic and terrifying. I always was scared that I might go to the sink and start peeling my face. Taylor also notes that not all families experience positive changes, finding a few films in which the families are experiencing a kind of downward mobility, like The Conjuring and Sinister, two movies I’ve been a little afraid of watching since I’ve become a home owner. I also appreciated her inclusion of Us, a film I absolutely loved that challenged my ideas about accessibility and difference for people in America. Taylor identifies Us as one of the few films about a Black family of home owners (and a vacation home) that experience this kind of invasion, although it is from their underground or shadow selves. Nevertheless, Taylor explores how these films often follow a common storyline that exploits our desire for their American dream of a place to care and raise a family, or a place where someone can identify with and call their own. One of the other points about this chapter that resonated with me was how Taylor identifies that the American dream wasn’t always attainable for all, and pre-planned suburban developments, like Levittown, often excluded Black families and discouraged Black home ownership, despite the idea of home ownership or landownership being a part of freedom, agency and self-determination. As Taylor explains, this kind of exclusion not only included Black families, but women as well. I wondered how much of this horror from the 70s and 80s was about white flight and featuring white families invaded by the other. It is a fascinating idea to consider for these films that continue to maintain popularity and resonance with audiences. 

One of the reasons why I started this book now was because I was traveling around Southern California, and took a tour of The Whaley House, which apparently is America’s most haunted house. It was creepy, mainly due to a possibly haunted doll in the home, but I didn’t experience some of the hauntings the tour suggested. There’s a kind of lived in presence I felt, and have experienced in other historical sites, where artifacts and residue of the living remain. However, reading the chapter “Brutal Houses” also made me realize how much cool and unique architecture is in Southern California. Taylor explores some of the unique settings in films and in real life, sharing a surprising story about a Frank Lloyd Wright house in LA that has a connection with the Black Dahlia murders (I also need to check out the limited series I Am the Night thanks to Taylor’s recommendation. Some of the other modernist homes that Taylor analyzes are in the films High-Rise and Shivers, both of which feature a kind of self-contained world in these large apartment buildings, and how this desire to almost wall oneself off from the world can breed both severe class distinctions and, in the case of Shivers, a sickness that easily spreads. Taylor then links these kinds of homes to housing projects from the 60s and 70s that eventually deteriorated. I was thinking about the Cabrini Green projects from Candyman, but the horrors experienced by the Pruitt-Igoe residents and the dilapidation that occurred are just as bad. Taylor also cites the project form Clockwork Orange, and how this setting helped to signify the types of bleak future these planned communities offered residents of lower socio-economic status, serving as a kind of nightmare in itself. 

One of my favorite chapters focused on “Witch Houses”, which Taylor explains can be represented in different ways and have different meanings. I loved that she referenced Haxan and Brand New Cherry Flavor in the same chapter (among some other great films and stories). This chapter was one of the most fascinating in the book because, as Taylor explains, “the witch house eschews domesticity as the central purpose of the home and the matriarch as a caretaker. Instead, it frames the house as a locus of power.” Although women labeled as witches were often on the margins of society, many of the accusations were also due to their unique positions as women landowners, and the accusations came from a place of envy or greed, not of superstitious beliefs. As Boro in Brand New Cherry Flavor shows to Lisa, a witch is not necessarily evil, but more like a guide or mediator who can provide knowledge or insight. I liked that the witch is framed as someone whose power extends from knowledge, much like medicine people. I was also so excited to see that this chapter also included an analysis of Nobuhiko Obayashi’s Hausu, one of my all-time favorite movies. I never thought about the Auntie as a witch, but Taylor provides a unique read on the film that explains how the Auntie is like a witch in reverse, one who gets stronger from feeding off of the girls who come to visit. She then relates this to other witch stories like Hansel and Gretel (also providing me with additional films to view—I haven’t seen the Oz Perkins version of this story yet, but will need to check it out). Other films include some of Argento’s films that relate to witch covens (Suspiria and Inferno) that have some kind of connection among The Three Mothers. Framing this chapter, though, is Taylor’s explanation that she wishes to live in a witch house that appears decayed on the outside, but would challenge perceptions about its inhabitants by showing kindness to any kids who are dared to knock on the door. It’s a reminder about the kinds of ironies that often arise in these witch stories and their houses, where the inhabitants tend to offer more that their homes suggest. 

The last three chapters were also interesting in that they dealt with different types of imagined houses. “Mad Houses” focuses houses where crimes are committed, typically those of people deemed insane. Taylor starts by analyzing Ted Kaczynski’s shack, which I didn’t realize was actually transported to storage and then put on display, where Taylor was able to visit in its exhibit. She describes the oddly placed windows and small door that lacks a knob, explaining that it demonstrates that this was more of a house, a structure used to house someone, not really designed for living. She then moves to explore Norman Bates’ home from Psycho, and how this kind of Victorian design initially represented wealth and privilege, but frequently fell into disrepair as the economic tides turned around the turn of the century. She also describes Norman’s and his mother’s rooms as being in a kind of stasis, where nothing really changes and things are preserved in a juvenile, undeveloped state. She compares this to Ed Gein’s home, who was the original inspiration for Bates. This chapter was graphic in describing some of the evidence found in Gein’s home. She links this site to another murderous family from the Midwest, The Benders, who devised a strange way to cover up their murders of boarders looking for respite from travel. The chapter also examines the Hardesty House from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which includes much death and decay, at least in the film. The theme seemed to be a kind of insanity, but it also looks at the decay that arises from a kind of stasis, where things fail to grow. “Little Houses” focuses on doll houses and other small representations. This chapter examined the use of the miniature home that Annie develops to manage her depression and anguish in Hereditary. I was glad to find this analysis, since I’ve wondered about its meaning since watching that film. I haven’t been bold enough to re-watch this film, but Annie’s desire to control and manage her life through the miniature representation seemed meaningful, especially as her own family and life seemed to spin out of her control. There are some other great references to films and televisions shows that I need to check out that feature creepy dollhouses. “Forever Houses” looks at bunkers and other prepper homes that are in films and history. I’m not too familiar with these stories, especially those kinds of dystopian future survival stories. Part of the reason that Night of the Living Dead scared me so much was the claustrophobic feeling. Nevertheless, 10 Cloverfield Lane sounds like a fascinating film that I will also need to check out. I loved how Taylor reframes this idea of prepping as more of a wish that a fear, as she quotes Mark O’Connell. That is, preppers seem to have a feeling of losing control, and their idea of preparing to hole away for an indeterminate time provides them with a sense of control. This seemed apparent in It Comes at Night, a truly terrifying film more for the behaviors of the survivors than what has actually destroyed society. It’s the kind of power and control that the father seeks that brings on further violence. There is also a horrible true event that Taylor shares about another father who sought to control his own family. It’s a shocking and sad story, but it also speaks to some of the horrors that plain, nondescript homes may hide inside, and how the idea of home ownership can also be a means of control for some fathers. 

I absolutely loved this book and couldn’t put it down. It was easy to read, but also a thought-provoking book that challenged my ideas about homes and society. The themes and examples are excellent, and Taylor is a thoughtful and inventive critic and analyst, creatively making connections between historical and popular examples. I feel like my viewing list has expanded significantly after reading this book, and I’m also looking more closely at homes and architecture. Although I loved this book, I felt like there were a number of other examples that could have been included in the book. When reading about The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I kept thinking about Ti West’s Maxxxine triology, especially XXX and Pearl, where the home is the site of some horrible acts. Rather than a refuge that it seems, it’s a space of murder and derangement. It made me think of other Ti West films like House of the Devil, where the home is the site of subterfuge and a dark arts ritual. I wondered if there could be a chapter on Satanic or devilsh houses. The Norman Bates home also made me think about Red Dragon, and Dollarhyde’s first home with his grandmother. I don’t think it’s shown as much in the film, but it left a deep impression on me from the book, providing some insight into how he became the Tooth Fairy. I know there are others that I’m missing (the American version of House, about the traumas of war), but I loved that this book had me thinking more about the role of homes in horror and the deeper meaning it has for our own desire for a place to call our own. I highly recommend this book and really appreciate the images that are included throughout the book.

Some images from The Whaley House