“If we find that all our efforts have failed and someone buys the house, we shall set fire to it and burn it down. We will do this at night, before it is occupied. In another time they would have plowed and charred ground and sowed it with salt. If it should come to that, I do not think we will be punished. I do not think we will be alive long enough."
Prepare for a brain-dump of all my adoring thoughts about this book:
Folks, I have never devoured and loved a book so fast in my entire life. Alright, so that’s not entirely true, but it’s been so long since I’ve adored a book so wholeheartedly to the level of wanting to shove it into the hands of anyone I come across.
This book has now joined Ira Levin's Rosemary's Baby and Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House as one of my favorite modern-classic horror novels of all time. And it didn't need pages of blood and gore to make the list.
THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR is a southern-gothic horror novel about a newly built, contemporary home that rocks the foundations of a very quiet, prominent neighborhood in 1970's Atlanta, Georgia. This is a haunted house story experienced from the perspectives of its neighbors, mainly the next door neighbors Walter and Colquitt Kennedy who are hellbent on ridding their street of the house’s influential evil, brick by brick. Why? Because terrible, unspeakable things always seem to happen when people move in.
Why do I personally think this book to be as brilliant as it is? Well, where Hill House in Shirley Jackson’s well known masterpiece is openly brooding, menacing, and even ugly, the house that author Anne Rivers Siddons dreams up is beautiful, unique, modern, enviable, and inviting–all the worse for the unfortunate victims that are lured by its façade. The house is not some centuries-old, isolated mansion built near a graveyard. It dwells in a pristine, friendly neighborhood. No cobwebs to dust, no creaky doors and floorboards, no demons or ghosts to exorcize. All the better to mislead each inhabitant that walks through the door and makes themselves comfortable. And that’s unsettling, the fact that this seemingly charming home is wearing a mask. However, similarly to The Haunting of Hill House, the true origin of the house’s evil is a mystery--even though the readers and the characters are witnessing the birth of an unknown malevolence in Siddons' house as it is being built from the ground up. I freaking love that.
But I didn’t just fall in love with the book’s steady pacing, unsettling atmosphere, subtle eeriness, and growing paranoia. I loved Siddons' memorable characters, the domestic details, the polite American Southern-ness of it all. I also consumed this book within the confines of my own newly-moved-into home and felt an extra vulnerability while reading. I LOVED THIS BOOK. And I don’t think I could gush enough without this review turning into an essay. So I’ll stop here and just recommend this book to lovers of southern gothic fiction, unconventional haunted house narratives, and/or horror novels with subtle scares and lasting impacts.