I don’t think a book has ever scared me off like this.

Actually, that’s not true. Doorstops scare me off all the time. But Mark Z. 

The elevator pitch for the book is inviting. A horror novel about a family who buys a home only to learn it’s bigger on the inside than it appears from the outside. Start reading, and you’re met with a bit of a challenge: The story of the Navidson family is told through a manuscript written by a man named Zampanò recounting the documentary Will Navidson released (it doesn’t exist).

That’s then filtered through footnotes of his neighbor, Johnny Truant, who includes plenty of his own asides (he’s losing his mind). That’s then filtered again through the “editors” of the book you’re holding in your hands.

Flip through the book and you’ll see why it has a reputation. Text changes fonts, sizes, orientations — some pages have barely any words on them, and others wrap into odd shapes. Footnotes go on for pages at a time, often eclipsing the book they’re commenting on.

And on the first page, a single line: “This is not for you.”

While on a family trip with my in-laws, after everyone else had gone to bed and I could hear the rain outside, I finally decided to crack it open. And in simply reading about home video footage of a man going to great lengths to show the outside wall of his home, only to go back in and open the door to a long, dark hallway that shouldn’t possibly exist, I was legitimately shaken. I thought, “This is something I’m going to need to be in the mood for.” And then a few years passed.

Then, earlier this year, it was the soon-to-released movie “Backrooms” that got my gears turning again. While I wouldn’t necessarily label “House of Leaves” the same brand of “liminal horror” as “Backrooms,” the two share a bit in common: Spaces that defy physical constraints and seem familiar but just a bit … off; obsessive creative types more than willing to ruin the lives of people around them for the sake of exploring those spaces; and a good found-footage sequence that’s just plain damn scary.

Now, having finally finished this book I opened years ago, I can see why it’s at the top of so many people’s lists of “If you liked ‘Backrooms’” recommendations. It’s not exactly a breezy beach read. It asks you to spend a lot of time with a narrator who’s pitiful at best and despicable at worst. Pages-long non sequiturs and a barrage of footnotes and appendices seem almost like the book is fighting you.

But in the same way “Backrooms” captured my imagination — maybe more so — the disturbing, unwieldy tension of “House of Leaves” got its hooks in me. With over two decades of writing and fan theorizing on the book, I think I’ll stay a little longer inside the house on Ash Tree Lane.