Does House Of Leaves Genres Include Elements Of Found Footage Horror?

I've read 'House of Leaves' multiple times, and while it's often labeled as horror, its connection to found footage is more about form than genre. The book mimics the style of found footage through its layered narratives—like a documentary about a documentary—but it doesn’t rely on the visual or immediacy of traditional found footage horror. Instead, it messes with typography, footnotes, and unreliable narrators to create a sense of unease. The horror comes from the disorientation of the text itself, like the labyrinth in the story. It’s more experimental literature than pure found footage, but the influence is there if you squint.

As someone who dissects horror tropes for fun, 'House of the Leaves' is fascinating because it subverts expectations. Found footage horror usually relies on shaky cameras and ‘real’ footage, but this novel replicates that vibe through structure. The nested narratives—Zampanò’s academic analysis of the Navidson Record, Johnny Truant’s frantic annotations—feel like piecing together a corrupted hard drive of evidence. The horror isn’t in jump scares but in the text’s physical decay: words spiraling, pages blanking, footnotes leading nowhere. It’s meta-found footage, using the book as a medium to simulate the genre’s fragmented reality.

That said, it’s not a 1:1 match. Found footage horror thrives on immediacy, while 'House of Leaves' is deliberately obtuse, demanding you work for the terror. The disjointed layout mirrors the house’s impossible dimensions, making you feel lost in the act of reading. It’s less about ‘found’ and more about ‘lost’—lost sanity, lost coherence. If you want a book that warps the found footage concept into something literary and chilling, this is it.

I adore horror that plays with format, and 'House of Leaves' is a masterclass in that. The found footage element isn’t literal but conceptual. Imagine finding a dusty manuscript full of scribbles and chaos—that’s the vibe. The Navidson Record pretends to be a recovered documentary, complete with academic critiques and personal confessions, which gives it that ‘discovered artifact’ feel. But the real horror is how the book manipulates you. Footnotes force you to flip pages madly, mirroring the characters’ descent into madness.

It’s not like 'Paranormal Activity' where the fear is visual; here, the terror is in the reading experience itself. The text physically warps, making you question what’s real. That’s why it’s often grouped with found footage—it replicates the genre’s sense of uncovering something forbidden, but through words instead of film.