The House Where Death Lives
Alex Brown, ed.
Hardcover / Ebook
ISBN: 9798890030122
Page Street Publishing, August 6, 2024, 352 pgs

The House Where Death Lives is a great anthology for folks who read and enjoyed those classic horror anthologies—the ones stuffed with old-timey horror pieces—but who wanted the tales to better reflect the people of today. A lot of the entries have that classic vibe, especially when it comes to the horror elements or creepy descriptions. More than once I had vague memories from The Penguin Book of —. But those old stories tend to be wall to wall white protagonists; The House offers an array of lived experiences and perspectives. Plus, those old-timey tales are often about someone inheriting a manse or being alone in the dark after all the servants have gone for holiday, and the concerns of the characters in The House Where Death Lives are far more relatable.

Traci Chee’s “Vanishing Point”, for example, opens with what feels like a classic setup—which is perhaps expected from a book full of house stories: vague misgivings about a hallway on the second floor, and relatives who seem to not share that apprehension. But Chee’s narrative is infused with personality via a distinctive voice, and the notes of the setup are compelling. Viv has to live in a house she doesn’t want to be in, and no one else seems to see that the house is a scary place to be. Her mom and dad are dead, and the pain is raw. The hallway is no ordinary hallway, of course, though Viv isn’t sure what exactly it is; but she knows it tried to trap her once. While painting a vivid horror tale, Chee also paints the delicate but important details of relationships: mother and daughter, daughter and grandmother; deftly exploring the subtleties of these dynamics, giving the narrative even more power. There is also the narrative element of Viv dealing with the death of her mom, and the ways that this grief manifests, as well as dealing with her mother’s illness even before death. This conversation, around the complex griefs of those moments, gives the story yet another layer of narrative power.

Sometimes a house story is only thinly a house story. Shelly Page’s “Let’s Play a Game” grabbed me immediately by describing a dark and suspicious looking house, with the protagonist thinking, “I’ve always admired it.” That splash of the unexpected speaks to an outcast character, a person who relates more to a dilapidated and dangerous house than to the regular houses; and in turn, this is a character I can root for. One night, our surprising protagonist Jayde is drawn to the house by a whisper, and a vision of a monster. She isn’t afraid as she enters the creepy place, she is curious—and finds in one of the rooms the entire video arcade where she used to hang out with Charlotte . . . For Jayde, Charlotte was definitely not “just a friend,” but she can’t quite remember what happened. What she knows is that everyone in town blames her for Charlotte’s disappearance. The narrative mostly (but not entirely) uses the house as an entry point, but where everything goes is unexpected but fun.

“Mirror Mirror” by Nora Elghazzawi starts with an engrossing set up: a story told from the perspective of Dalia, who is in love with the sibling of a dead best friend. After the friend died, what’s left between Dalia and the sibling is a weird, hard to define connection, or perhaps lack thereof; not to mention feelings which may not be requited at all. Elghazzawi gives us a wonderful depiction of awkwardness and longing, not to mention insecurity. Meanwhile, there may be a djinn involved, it may have found Dalia through a mirror she is avoiding, and it may be toying with her because it wants her for itself. There’s great subtext here, too, about the role of mirrors and the ways we engage with them in general. Ultimately this story speaks to me about the kinds of traps that can look like love, and about the desperation of youth, and of loneliness.

“me i’m not” by g. haron davis features a different kind of interesting family dynamics, where Carlotta’s parents have died and the protagonist has to live with grandparents who are almost strangers. The grandparents immediately impose wishes which further estrange the protagonist and are even, to some degree, counter to the wishes of the parents. This is instantly compelling friction, as the protagonist tries to maintain tenuous connections to their parents, with the grandparents in the way. Along with all this tension and friction is a house that perhaps whispers, a house which doesn’t quite feel safe. In this sense, the house can be seen as the embodiment of that relationship, expertly rendering the subtler interpersonal negativity as an ominous and vague threat. haron does great work with exploring the internal movements of terror, and the way fear can play with survivor’s guilt and grief.

Kay Costales gives us “Cradle and All,” which, like haron’s story, takes on heavier topics. A big sister feels the weight of being a good role model, a good Catholic girl, and a good daughter. She is also navigating the world of conflict and contradictions that comes with being part of an immigrant family. But she is not perfect; she has made her mistakes. One of those larger mistakes may be haunting her, along with the guilt she feels at being less than perfect in several other ways. When things start to ramp up, she has to face her past and come to terms with it, or it might destroy her. This one is a great example of horror used to explore and express real life crises, and while I don’t want to give away what it’s about, it’s a topic I don’t see discussed enough in fiction for young adults—particularly in anthologies like these.

The entries in The House Where Death Lives range in how much they focus on or utilize a house. This isn’t a book about haunted houses, per se: it’s a book about houses and, well . . . death. They also range in their final outcomes, from fairly heartwarming to grim. There are ghosts and monsters and fairies and more. Importantly, along with all this, there are people who have problems the likes of which you just might have. I’ve shared my thoughts on a few of the stories to give you some idea of what’s in store, trying my best to avoid spoilers. It’s a solid book of stories by talented storytellers, most of which have important things to say.