A moody, slow-burning gothic that blends haunted house tropes with sharp social commentary. The atmosphere is rich and unsettling, and the writing has a lyrical, almost dreamlike quality—but the story itself takes a while to find its footing. Some threads felt underdeveloped, and I wanted a bit more from the characters emotionally. The idea haunted houses reflect not just individual trauma but systemic issues like patriarchal systems full of racism, inequality, mental health that makes it real. While the pacing is deliberate and a few character arcs felt undercooked, the blend of haunted-house chills and sharp social commentary gives it a thoughtful, eerie edge. Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC!

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.

This was nothing like I expected. I'm not sure if I knew it was going to be more about TV / Movie houses instead of focused on real life houses. There are definitely references to real life examples. I think I expected a more "True Crime" version of the book, where we explore specific houses where tragedies happened. The book is well written and I didn't have any issues with comprehension or text. I have to say it was just a bit slower read, and aside from the photos, I may have liked an audio version more than physical. I found myself entertained for about a chapter/ section before wanting to move on to a fiction story. I really did enjoy the addition of photos to the text.
I'm having a hard time reviewing this (you can probably tell). I don't normally review non fiction. I was just so intrigued by the concept of this book as I love haunted houses. Maybe that is one reason I picked it up, I thought it may be telling stories of real life haunted house stories.

This is an amazingly detailed deep-dive into one of the oldest and most well loved horror tropes, the haunted house. Both in real life and across fiction we see time and time again the house, a place that is supposed to be the symbol of comfort and refuge from the outside world, becoming an agent of fear and dread. A house by itself can cause so much discomfort and fear that it becomes legendary in its own right, but what causes that kind of fear to arise from something completely inanimate? Leila Taylor breaks down how everything from architecture to myths to the socioeconomic climate can not only create but also instill these fears in us. Some houses that are beautiful from the outside can be tainted by the wrong doings of people who have lived there in the past. Other houses are specifically built in styles to make the average person feel like they don't belong there at all.

This book is interspersed with so many references to amazing horror media, from literature to film and television. The whole time I was reading I kept note of it all and now I've got plenty to watch and read. It was all incredibly well researched and insightful, you can really tell how passionate she is about the topic. This is great supplemental material for any horror lover. I learned so much and will definitely be reading it over again in the future.

While this book is incredibly well-written, thoroughly researched, and detailed, I found it a bit repetitive at times, which made it hard for me to stay fully engaged. I had to take breaks throughout, likely because non-fiction isn’t typically my go-to genre. That said, I can definitely see how the right reader—especially someone more drawn to this type of content—would really enjoy it. I’m giving it 4 stars for the quality and effort that clearly went into it.

Unfortunately, due to time conflicts, I could not finish this book before it expired.

I do have to say, what I read was crazy informative and actually gave me great knowledge and maybe even some little trivia about houses (what a weird thing to say, I love it) .

Thank you for the opportunity, nonetheless!

I loved reading about the messed up houses of messed up crimes, hauntings, and spooky tales. From the unabomber to Amityville we get to look at the spaces our favorite creepy criminals and spooky historic happenings call home.

This book is right up my alley! Nonfiction about haunted houses? Sign me up!

I had a great time with this book as it covered many aspects of what we think of as "haunted houses" both in film and societal concepts. It hits on the popular haunted houses from well-known movies and then talk about archetypes of types of homes from different media categories, and then brings it out to our interactions.

You can definitely see the author's interest in the topic which sometimes comes out a little off-t0pic, but it wasn't too much of an issue. I enjoyed this one a lot!

Thank you to the author, publisher and Net Galley for providing a free e-arc of this title in exchange for my review.

When I heard of this book, I was very excited. I LOVE haunted houses in any form, so a non-fiction about haunted houses? Sign me up! This book covers the various forms of haunted houses, houses vs homes, and what a haunting is. The author tackles topics of horror movies to illustrate where some of the folk lore and haunted house stories come from. I was pleasantly surprised to note that the author avoids true crime details and instead explores real and fictional scares.

Overall, a really fascinating book, and I would love a part 2 with more information!

4 stars - recommend to anyone who enjoys books about houses, haunted houses or just a different viewpoint for horror stories.

We are fascinated by haunted houses. There are ghost tours in many cities around the world, looky-loos at homes were awful things happened, and many devour ghost stories by the handful. This is the first time I've considered what makes some buildings so unsettling.

Homes are often seen as extensions of those who live there. Personalities show up in organization, cleanliness, possessions, and more. One can tell a lot about someone by visiting their home--or at least see the story they want to tell about themselves. Thus when awful things happen in homes, it can unsettle us and fascinate us.

If you've ever felt intrigued by a haunted house or a ghost story, pick up a copy of this book.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for an ARC!

Informative and fascinating. A great exploration of one of my favorite tropes, the haunted house. I loved that this includes movies I would not have thought of

I would describe this as an essay about architecture at the very least. I went into this with no expectations or really a concept of what it might be about. And to be honest, I was pleasantly surprised.

It starts of tackling your common "haunted" houses. Those homes in Amityville Horror, The Conjuring, The Exorcist, Psycho, etc. Starting with this, I was a bit apprehensive. I know those horror movies, I know those stories, I know those houses. But then, it starts to get really good.

The author enters into a world about architecture and how structures inherently garnish "problems" or "occurrences". The high-rise apartments, the low-income areas created into a modern utopia (that fails), and the dollhouses that mimic human life.

The author does a wonderful job of relating either real world architecture (ie the home of the Unabomber), or from movies (the treehouse in Hereditary) to create this picture of "sick" houses and how they shape our viewpoint of what something mean to be haunted.

I actually thoroughly enjoyed this and have added quite a few movies to my "to be watched" list.

I marked a star down just for being nonfiction, which I generally struggle with as a reader.

I want to thank NetGalley, the author and publishers for this ARC in exchange for an honest review.

A big thank you to Repeater Books, Leila Taylor and Netgalley for my digital review copy of this book.

I am a huge sucker for reportedly haunted, dilapidated-looking old houses. The first tour I signed up for when I visited London was a haunted places tour. I eat that stuff up. So this book looked to be right up my alley when I saw it on Netgalley.

I found this book mostly engaging and entertaining. I wanted more of what the title suggested though, because those parts of the book were truly engrossing. I loved learning about different house archetypes - the "witch house", the haunted house, the dilapidated modern building fallen into decay and disrepair. However the book feels disjointed at times. When it's on, it's extremely interesting - I loved the real-world examples. But at times the author delves into random tangents that feel unrelated to the overarching focus of the book and they were jarring. And at times the discussion surrounding fictional examples of these archetypes went on too long for my taste. An example or two from film or other media about each archetype, discussing symbolism and imagery and how masterfully (or not) the creator of that media was in conveying the archetype? Sure, I can dig that. But there were just too many and I wanted the author to get back to the real-life stories that are the reason those archetypes exist in the first place.

Overall, this was an enjoyable and quick read. If it had felt less disjointed and more cohesive it would have been an easy four stars for me but that aspect was distracting enough to detract from my experience reading it.

What a captivating and insightful read on some of the most horrifically beautiful architectural structures that have inspired the horror classics! 🏚️🖤

Filled with references to many of my favorite films and books (plus mentions of more that I've now added to my endless TBR heh) I thoroughly enjoyed this beautifully written and witty reflection on the terrifying transformation of our sacred space turning into a place of desolation. Be warned 🚨 some of the chapters do contain film spoilers for those who wish not to be!

I'd really like to thank Repeater Books & NetGalley for this ARC 👏🏻 and opportunity to review this book in my own words!

A very readable, eloquent story about houses: haunted, scary, evil, doll, bomb shelters. The author's voice is very enjoyable, and the bibliography impressive, but I did think the actual essays could have delved a little deeper - the descriptions of plots and historical details could have been shortened and interpretations expanded. But it still read very well, and I particularly enjoyed the historical and architectural detail (the horror movies I mostly knew or knew of).

I really enjoyed this smart and well-argued book about the roles of houses and homes in horror literature and screen media. Taylor writes clearly and elegantly about the ways in which living spaces represent the body and mind, the state of the world in which characters and readers live, and how readers and viewers might theorize unsafe spaces as part of their understanding of the zeitgeist. She uses up-to-date examples and explores a variety of subgenres and different approaches from creative artists to support her ideas, and writes in such a way that readers don't need to be academics or grounded in any particular kind of language in order to follow her thoughts. I know folks in gothic studies are already looking forward to the release of Sick Houses, and I'm sure it will find a wide audience among general readers as well.

Thanks to NetGalley and the author for granting me a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

God, I love reading about haunted locations.

Sick Houses: Haunted Homes & The Architecture of Dread is a great little read, scratching a non-fiction itch I didn’t even know I had. Pacey chapters grouped by types of “hauntings” - from traditional haunted houses to witches’ huts, and from the likes of the Amityville House to the Unabomber’s cabin - explore the ins and outs of how the every day becomes a nightmare, blending media analysis with historical research and anecdotes from Taylor’s own life.

Where Sick Houses shines is how it showcases what horror can really do, challenging the notion that the genre is little more than just cheap scares and gore. Horror plays with our ideas of safety and security, blurs the lines between fantasy and reality, and wreaks havoc with our emotions in the most unexpected of ways. Sick Houses pays testament to that with its examination of how the supposedly safest of spaces - the home - can become a vessel for something altogether more horrifying.

Sick Houses is highly accessible for any horror aficionado, even those who generally stay away from non-fiction, with Taylor striking a fine balance between surface level research and a potentially intimidating deep dive. And, if nothing else, you’ll be left with a fairly chunky list of movies and TV shows to enjoy with an even keener appreciation for the nuances of the genre.

I really enjoyed this! This is a detailed compilation of houses that have been labeled as haunted in some way or another. These include Ed Gein's House, the Amityville Horror House, etc. This was an interesting read as a whole, and it is definitely worth a read!

I don't often read nonfiction but I love a good haunted house story, so I decided to pick up "Sick Houses" by Leila Taylor. I admired how Taylor stretched the definition of a haunted house to include things like dollhouses, serial killers' houses, and the Winchester Mystery House. Readers got both fictional haunted houses and nonfictional haunted houses influencing each other, and Taylor was quick to make connections about how these houses influence society's perceptions of ghosts as well. While sometimes it felt like a thesis and it was very US-centric, overall "Sick Houses" is a very thought-provoking and well written account of what it means when we say "this house is haunted."