Stephen King devotes a significant number of pages to Anne Rivers Siddon's The House Next Door in Danse Macabre, his remarkable study of all things horror. Without King's reference, I would probably have never crossed paths with this novel. Siddons is not a horror writer, yet in this, her second published novel, she has produced a rather remarkable work of psychological horror, tilling the same fertile fields of Southern Gothicism that a William Faulkner might have worked in decades earlier. The Atlanta suburb of Siddons' creation is a social microcosm of the South in juxtaposition between the old and the new, a place where one's identity is determined by one's position and set of friends, and it is the effects of the house next door on this tight-knit, structured community that really serve as the focus of Siddons' attention. As such, the "haunting" is never really creepy and is certainly not frightening in the least, especially given the fact that we see the effects of the horror through the eyes of our protagonist and her husband, relying on their reports of sights and sounds we really never get to witness firsthand. There is no ghost in the normal sense here, no discernible force that seems to lie behind the horror of events. Siddons' grounding of her tale in reality and in a community her readers can visualize and relate to in a tangible way is absolutely necessary in order for this novel to work. As Siddons has said in reference to The House Next Door, "Without belief, there is no terror."
Some readers have had trouble fully connecting with the narrator of events, Colquitt Kennedy, and her husband Walter, but I really do not. Colquitt can sometimes become a little tiring in terms of her laments of mounting pain and sorrow, but she does not come across to me as a person who puts her social or mildly affluent social position ahead of her humanity. After all, the Kennedys make some entirely self-less decisions when it comes to warning future homeowners of the danger lurking in the walls of the beautiful house next door. The house is unique and brand new, a brilliantly designed structure erected on a site local architects claimed could never support a house. The very antithesis of the traditional haunted Southern manor or plantation house, the house uses its loveliness to entice families inside its seemingly normal walls, somehow isolating each family member's greatest weaknesses and vulnerabilities and playing upon those to enact the destruction it thrives on. The brilliant young architect becomes an important player in this drama, and his character helps build a bridge of plausibility between the brand new home and the tragedies befalling those who live within it. The book is basically broken up into three sections, each one telling the story and eventual tragedy of a different new family, the haunting and tragic factors increasing dramatically as the house feeds itself on the evil forces it unleashes. This premise works beautifully, making The House Next Door a fascinating read for both horror lovers and general readers alike, casting its nets far and wide to entrap readers of all sorts in its unsettling clutches. The ending, which seems to disappoint some readers, really feels right to me and is by no means anticlimactic. Anne Rivers Siddons succeeds in transplanting classic Southern Gothic horror into a modern, idyllic setting in which it seemingly does not belong. This is what makes the house so dangerous and makes the story all the more fascinating.