Sick Houses: Haunted Homes and the Architecture of Dread, which was a delightful rabbit hole for anyone fascinated by creepy architecture and the psychology behind our fear of certain spaces. Taylor takes us through everything from real-life haunts like the Winchester Mystery House to the gothic Victorian mansions of cinema, exploring why these places make our skin crawl. I particularly loved her examination of the "witch house" and how aging women living alone somehow became symbols of dread in our collective imagination. The book has that perfect encyclopedic quality – like chatting with a fellow horror enthusiast who's connecting dots you never considered before. While sometimes feeling like a collection of thoughtful essays rather than a cohesive whole, Taylor's scholarly approach paired with her genuine enthusiasm for horror references both familiar and obscure makes this a fascinating journey for anyone interested in the psychological underpinnings of haunted houses.

I've found a new favorite topic to temporarily obsess over! As with most nonfiction of this structure, some chapters and sections spoke to me more than others—I could have read 100 more pages each about high-rises and public housing, murder houses, off-putting architecture, and dollhouses, and it still might not have been enough. The section on witch houses was the gem for me, though. Taylor's research is so good, and I was so grateful for the included photographs (although I think they will look much better in the physical book).

Raves:
I enjoyed how the book touched on fictional homes and real homes and how the former are often informed by the latter and vice-versa.
Witch house as a physical representation of the nonconformist woman! (Right into my veins, please.)
So much new (to me) information that I have pages of notes, but not so overwhelming or dense that I got bogged down.

The smallest of critiques, really:
I get that the section on Pruitt-Igoe was to be representative of many public housing projects across the US, but I was surprised Pink Houses, Cabrini Green, et al weren't mentioned (but probably that's just a different book that I need to locate.)
I understand why Taylor wanted to stay away from plantation houses, and she touches on it briefly in the early part of the book, but I think her perspective on those structures and the trappings that go along with them would be a really great read.

This is a tour of force through some of the most famous haunted houses and what made them what they are.

Taylor's work is well-crafted and it's obvious how much work was put into this book. It felt as though she sank into the foundations of these homes and interviewed them herself.

This book has become an essential for me that I will return to again and again.

I really enjoyed this one! It wasn’t what I was expecting at all and I was pleasantly surprised by it. There were a few typos here and there, but definitely did not take away my enjoyment. The research that went into this book is impressive. Definitely glad I read this one.

Thank you to Netgalley for this arc. I really enjoyed this and the horror and creepy haunted house element. This was a fun and quick read.

Sick Houses is a book that takes an unflinching and critical look at haunted houses. Through the lens of real-life and fictionalized haunted houses, Taylor presses the reader to go beyond what can make a home eerie but also what makes a home truly home. What legacy does a place where horrors have taken place leave behind? Can it ever be someone's home again?

The writing is conversational, the content is well-researched, and I connected with it immediately. I loved how this book elevated and venerated the haunted house and took an intersectional, cross-genre look at why the haunted one of the most enduring subgenres in horror. As a reader and writer of haunted house stories, Taylor connected a lot of dots for me, particularly in the' witch house' section, which explored how certain spaces, often associated with women, reflect the life of those who are rejecting social and cultural norms and unapologetically practicing their witchcraft.

This book is a comprehensive tour through some of the most important works in horror literature, television, and film. It's sweeping and detailed, so be prepared for spoilers. These references are fascinating and informative as I primarily read horror and don't watch it. Given Taylor's expertise and analysis, I suspect she expects her readers to be already intimately familiar with the horror canon.

If you loved Anna Bogutskaya's Feeding The Monster, you will likely love this. Sick Houses is a must-read for horror writers and enthusiasts alike. It's already sparked new ideas in my writing and deepened my understanding and appreciation of this subgenre.

Thank you to NetGalley for providing me with a review copy of this book!

This is the book I wish I had written! Leila Taylor offers a fascinating exploration of the relationship between horror — particularly in literature and film — and the house as both a physical space and a psychological concept of ‘home.’ From the American Dream and the archetypal domestic dwelling to witch-haunted houses, brutalist structures, and eerie dollhouses (a personal favourite), Taylor expertly covers a vast range of ideas in a concise, well-researched, and thoughtful way.

As a big horror fan, I was already familiar with many of the pop culture references, but seeing them woven together and contrasted so effectively was a real treat. The inclusion of real-life examples was especially compelling, and I appreciated encountering new insights alongside familiar themes.

Taylor’s focus is primarily on American culture, and while I’d love to see these theories expanded on an international scale, I recognise that this would be an immense undertaking. Still, for fans of haunted houses and those who find themselves captivated by the towering silhouette of the Bates house in Psycho or the enduring specter of Hill House, this is an absolute must-read.

Sick Houses is the sort of book I would've eaten up in grad school, at home with my interests in the gothic, horror, subversion, and genre fiction. This book is a cross-genre study of homes that feel wrong in one way or another. Whether haunted by ghosts or other weighty manifestations of the past (madness, witches, histories of violence), this study is rich with the unheimlich. It's a study of unease and the perversion of what makes a house a home and the way that trauma makes the past linger. This book is intriguing and well-argued, with an accessible tone despite the academic literary study approach.

Sick Houses
4.5

A fascinating examination of the "haunted house" and the important role they've played, just as much characters themselves, in horror movies.

Whether "based on a true story" or being used as a metaphor, Sick Houses thoroughly showcases some of the most important yet unnamed characters in horror cinema.

4.5 / 5

This book was somewhat hit and miss for me. Encyclopaedic in its knowledge of the haunted house across varying tropes, I would have enjoyed it better had it only selected a few for each chapter as opposed to rattling off multiple titles of media with very little in depth discussion into each. The sections that were in depth, however, were incredible. Especially because it’s harder these days to come up with any sort of unique take due to the ubiquity of the haunted house

Incredibly well written and researched. I thoroughly enjoyed all of the references and have compiled a reading/ watch list of my own. I really appreciated the way that this was set out and felt that each chapter really built on to the foundation that the author was setting.

As someone who has read hundreds of haunted house stories, this was extremely intriguing and creative. This was a fascinating read. If you are someone who loves horror and haunted house stories, then I would highly recommend this! Special Thank You to Leila Taylor, Repeater Books and NetGalley for allowing me to read a complimentary copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

A haunting exploration of trauma, grief, and history through the lens of haunted houses. Taylor blends psychological horror with deep introspection, creating a chilling and thought-provoking read

Leila Taylor's Sick Houses is a whirlwind scholarly journey through one of my favorite topics: haunted houses. Mixing horror films, horror literature, and real life examples, Taylor talks about houses that are metaphorically or literally haunted. Her real world examples include murder houses and other buildings with off-putting architecture, where the 'haunting' is our lingering knowledge of what happened there or just a bad feeling about the place. The book is a quick and wide-ranging read and Taylor wears her erudition lightly. Her prose is readable and lively, and I finished this book in just two sittings.

I think this book would be great for fans of other pop-scholarly books about the paranormal, including Colin Dickey's work. I definitely enjoyed it, though I felt that it was at times too wide-ranging. Rather than quickly jumping from example to example, I wanted her to dig a little more into the topic of each chapter. That said, I still enjoyed and recommend this book, and I definitely expanded my TBR and to-watch list while reading it.

Thanks to the publisher and to NetGalley for an early copy of this book.

n Sick Houses: Haunted Homes and the Architecture of Dread, author Leila Taylor delves into the unsettling intersection of domestic spaces and horror, examining how homes—symbols of safety and comfort—can transform into vessels of fear and dread. This comprehensive study traverses various architectural forms, from modest family dwellings to imposing brutalist structures, exploring their roles in both real-life and fictional narratives of hauntings and psychological unrest.

Taylor organizes her exploration thematically, with chapters such as "Brutal Houses," "Witch Houses," "Mad Houses," and "Forever Houses," each dissecting different facets of how architecture can embody and evoke terror. She seamlessly blends cultural analysis with personal reflection, offering insights into how societal issues of class, race, and gender influence our perceptions of haunted spaces. Her informal yet incisive prose makes complex concepts accessible, engaging readers in a dialogue about the deeper implications of what makes a house "sick."

One of the book's strengths lies in its multidisciplinary approach. Taylor draws from a rich tapestry of sources, including literature, film, television, and historical accounts, to illustrate how the concept of the haunted house permeates various aspects of culture. She examines iconic structures like the Amityville house and the Winchester Mystery House, as well as lesser-known edifices, to uncover the universal themes that make these stories resonate. Her analysis extends beyond the physical structures to consider the psychological and emotional landscapes that render these spaces haunting.

Overall, Sick Houses is a compelling addition to the discourse on horror and architecture. Leila Taylor's insightful examination challenges readers to reconsider their perceptions of domestic spaces and the latent fears they may harbor. This book is a must-read for enthusiasts of horror literature, cultural studies, and architectural theory, offering a fresh perspective on the places we call home and the unseen forces that may reside within them.

All in all, a thorough book covering a variety of different homes and occupants - spectral and otherwise. I appreciated that there were a good deal of modern films, and non English ones as well. I think this would be well enjoyed by fans of The Faculty Of Horror.

Sick Houses is an examination of the haunted house, but is not limited to the horror sub-genre. The haunted house is a reference point for the examination of the uncanny in lived space, or the representations of lived space, such as with a dollhouse.

As is usual with a book like this, the quality of the chapters varies, but I found it stronger than most. The strongest is on formal architecture and haunting as a part of the city, specifically the designed city. The weakest is the one on the concept of the Witch's house, which has interesting reference points but has trouble relating to the core concept. In general, the chapter weaknesses are in the forest, not the trees, with the individual concepts studied with care and profundity the spine not working to connect them.

The book has the right amount of personality. It includes authorial commentary and lived experience, which accelerates the already readable into the unique. In reading this, I started to wonder about this in comparison to the times I have read an author doing something similar, but where I disliked it. I think that there are two distinctions, the lesser being that the author writes with humor, or the right balance of humor to seriousness. The important one is that it fits the material. The special quality of the haunted house is the invasion of the interior world. It is about violation, even if Aristotle-style the violation is unintended. And that invasion is into the the most ordinary: the domestic versus the extraordinary. The author's comments, stories, and narrative fulfill a similar duty. A text about hauntings that is itself haunted.

The complaint here is spoilers. I would make this blink Geocities-style if I could, so let me be plain: THIS BOOK IS FULL OF SPOILERS. SERIOUSLY, THEY ARE EVERYWHERE. DO NOT READ IF YOU WANT AN INTRODUCTION TO THE HAUNTED HOUSE GENRE. Or at least be prepared to skip a few paragraphs now and again.

This ought to be obvious. You cannot do work like this without including the facts of narrative. I did not complain about this for books doing the same with Jane Eyre or Moby Dick. However, the media here often relies on the twist or other surprise. So you are warned.

I would also mention how much is not covered that could be. I could list works that I wish were included, because I want to see how the author would apply her theories to them, but the scope of the project is such that this is okay. And while the reason why is discussed in the introduction, the book is restricted in terms of its discussions about race. The explanation is persuasive, but I also suspect that it will be a point of criticism.

Ridley Scott referred to his movie Alien as a haunted house movie in space, which never made sense to me. If anything it is a workplace drama, premised on the confines of the ship like a house, sure, but its look is unfamiliar to us and the matter at hand is much more invasive in character. And if that is the sort of thing that you like to think about, you will love this book.

My thanks to the author, Leila Taylor, for writing the book and to the publisher, Repeater Books, for making the ARC available to me.

A pop-culture history of the haunted house as a concept, Taylor's book discusses novels, movies, and real-life spooky houses. If you like horror or other forms of spooky stuff, this book is a must-read to dive into all of the symbolism and the variety between types of spooky houses. I found this a very enjoyable read.

Unfortunately, this was a DNF at 10%. I liked the concept of this book, but I wasn’t drawn into the actual book itself, and found the writing to be dry.

*Sick Houses, Haunted Homes, and the Architecture of Dread* isn’t just about haunted houses—it’s about how homes themselves can embody dread, decay, and trauma. Taylor digs into the idea that a house doesn’t need ghosts to feel haunted; history, neglect, and societal pressures can turn any space toxic. The writing is sharp and thoughtful, blending personal reflections with cultural analysis. I loved how Taylor connected horror tropes to real-world issues like gentrification and displacement, making the book feel relevant and unsettling in a completely different way. It’s part memoir, part cultural critique, and part deep dive into the psychology of place, all wrapped up in moody, evocative prose.
If you enjoy horror, architecture, or social commentary, it’s definitely worth a read.