The Labyrinth and the Lacuna: Metafiction, the Symbolic, and the Real in Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves

Abstract

In this article, I examine the ways in which the figures of the labyrinth and the lacuna organize Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves. The novel's labyrinths appear in a variety of forms, and yet each has at its center a lacuna in which signification is problematized. I argue that these labyrinths and lacunae can be read as representations of, respectively, the Symbolic and the Real, and, as such, they suggest that the book's metafictional nature allows it to engage critically with the dynamic between what can be signified and what cannot.

Keywords::

• Mark Z. Danielewski
• House of Leaves
• Jacques Lacan
• metafiction

Notes

Notes

¹ The first edition of House of Leaves existed only as a digital copy distributed to a small group of Danielewksi's friends. There is, however, a multitude of U.S. versions of the second edition, with variations existing of both the hardcover and paperback editions. Differences between versions included various printing anomalies, and the color of the compass that appears on the novel. There is also an apocryphal “full color” edition, as well as the more recent, and widely available, “Remastered Full-Color” edition.

² Linda Hutcheon proposes that metafiction be regarded in terms of “an allegorical reading of the Narcissus myth” (8). This myth tells of the proud young man who, cursed by a spurned lover, falls in love with his reflection in a pool of water. He becomes so engrossed with his own image that he cannot leave it, and so, eventually, he withers away to be replaced by a white flower that bears his name. Hutcheon argues that the history of critical reception of the self-reflexive novel can be seen as analogous to this tale: metafiction's preoccupation with its own form signals the death of the novel, just as Narcissus's love of himself leads to his demise. Hutcheon, however, stresses that Narcissus does not die at the edge of the water, but, rather, he metamorphoses to become both Narcissus-the-flower at the pool's edge and Narcissus-the-man who resides in the Underworld. Hutcheon superimposes this reading of the myth onto the history of self-reflexive fiction to conclude that both metafiction (represented by the flower) and realism (represented by the man) can coexist as two manifestations of the same genre (the novel).

³ As far as I can tell, credit for this observation is due to the user “eoin” on the MZD Forums.

⁴ The use of A Novel as a subtitle appears to be a trend in contemporary works of metafiction or otherwise problematic writing. Consider, for example, Thomas Pynchon's Mason & Dixon, Against the Day, and Inherent Vice; Bret Easton Ellis's Lunar Park; Barbara Kingsolver's The Lacuna; and Paul Auster's Sunset Park.

⁵ The formal narratological name given to this transgression of narrative levels is metalepsis, and it can be defined as “one or more illicit movements up or down the hierarchy of diegetic levels structuring discourse” (Herman 133). Marie-Laure Ryan distinguishes between rhetorical and ontological metalepsis. The first forms the basis of Gérard Genette's discussion, and it occurs when a voice on a given level addresses a voice on another level. Ontological metalepsis, which occurs here, involves crossing the border between “two radically distinct worlds, such as ‘the real’ and ‘the imaginary,’ or the world of ‘normal’ (or lucid) mental activity from the worlds of dream or hallucination” (442).

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Nick Lord

Nick Lord is a PhD candidate at the University of Queensland. He has taught courses on contemporary and Australian literature, and his dissertation explores the significance of the figures of the labyrinth and the lacuna that structure works of metafiction.