Haunted House novels are uniquely unsettling, at least I think so. They’re one of my favourite types of horror novels, and I don’t mean ghosts or creaking floor boards, I mean houses that feel alive in the worst ways. Houses that leap off the page, that watch you from the margins, that remember and slowly begin to close around the people trapped inside them, that drag you in as well. Haunted house stories are some of my favourite kinds of horror because the setting becomes part of the nightmare itself. The walls feel wrong. The rooms shift. Reality starts slipping sideways, and the longer the characters stay, the more impossible…