If you haven’t heard of Felecia Gould, you’re about to. Actually, most people know her as the woman who vanishes into thin air in the middle of a crowded Vietnamese street. That’s the inciting incident of Build Your House Around My Body, a novel by Violet Kupersmith that honestly defies every single genre box you try to shove it into. Is it a ghost story? Sort of. Is it historical fiction? Definitely. Is it a body horror fever dream that will make you look at your own skin a little differently? 100%.
It's messy. It’s dense. It spans decades of Vietnamese history, from the French colonial era to the modern day, and it does so with a sprawling cast of characters who are all, in some way, haunted. Not just by ghosts, but by the weight of the past and the literal ground they walk on.
The Nonlinear Puzzle of Build Your House Around My Body
The thing about this book is that it doesn’t care if you’re confused for the first fifty pages. Violet Kupersmith writes with this incredible confidence, jumping from 1986 to 2011 to 1944 without a roadmap. You’re just dropped into the humid, buzzing atmosphere of Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City) and told to keep up.
Basically, the plot follows two main disappearances. First, there’s Winnie, a young Vietnamese-American woman who moves to Saigon to teach English in 2011. She’s adrift. She’s "the girl who isn’t there" even when she’s standing right in front of you. Then, we have the 1986 disappearance of Binh, a mixed-race woman who vanishes from a rubber plantation. How do these two connect? The answer involves a lot of vengeful spirits, a very creepy Frenchman, and some of the most visceral descriptions of the human form I’ve ever encountered in contemporary literature.
Kupersmith’s prose is jagged. It’s sharp. One minute she’s describing a boring expat party with biting humor, and the next, she’s detailing the way a spirit enters a body like a hand into a glove. It’s uncomfortable.
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Why the Body Horror Hits Different
Most ghost stories focus on the "spooky" stuff—the cold spots or the flickering lights. Build Your House Around My Body focuses on the meat. The title itself is a clue. It suggests a physical enclosure, a sense of being trapped within something else, or perhaps making a home out of something that shouldn't be a home.
In this world, bodies are porous.
They are susceptible to invasion. There’s a specific sequence involving a snake that honestly made me put the book down for a second just to breathe. It isn’t gore for the sake of gore. It’s an exploration of colonization and trauma. Think about it: when a country is colonized, its land is taken, its resources are stripped, and its people’s bodies are controlled. Kupersmith takes that political reality and turns it into a supernatural nightmare. The ghosts here aren't just "sad souls"; they are manifestations of a land that has been violated for centuries.
Key Characters You’ll Meet (and Fear)
- Winnie: Our 2011 protagonist. She’s relatable in her mediocrity, which makes her eventual transformation all the more jarring.
- The Brown Brothers: Two siblings who specialize in catching things that shouldn’t exist. They provide a bit of a "noir" detective vibe to the middle of the book.
- Binh: The 1986 disappearance. Her story is the emotional heart of the book, representing the "lost" generation of the post-war era.
- Fortune: A man whose connection to a rubber plantation spans decades and serves as the bridge between the old world and the new.
Historical Context and the Ghost of Colonialism
You can’t talk about this book without talking about the rubber plantations. The "Michelin" plantations in Vietnam were notorious for their brutal conditions during the French colonial period. Kupersmith uses this setting as a literal breeding ground for horror. The trees themselves seem to bleed.
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This isn't just "background flavor." The history of the land dictates the rules of the magic. There is a specific kind of ghost in Vietnamese folklore called a "Ma," and Kupersmith plays with these traditional beliefs while injecting them with a modern, surrealist edge. She acknowledges the limitations of the "Western" lens—Winnie, being half-Vietnamese and having grown up in the States, represents the reader’s struggle to understand a culture that is both hers and not hers.
It’s about the "Great Hunger" and the displacement of people. It’s about the way stories get lost when people are forced to flee. Honestly, it’s a lot to process.
The Architecture of the Plot
The structure is a bit like a house being built around you, piece by piece. You don't see the full shape until you're already trapped inside.
- The Disappearance: We start with the void. The absence of Winnie.
- The Roots: We go back to the 1940s to see where the rot started.
- The Possession: The lines between characters start to blur.
- The Convergence: All the timelines crash together in a finale that is... well, it’s a lot.
Some critics have argued the book is too long or too complicated. I disagree. The complexity is the point. You're supposed to feel the weight of all those years and all those ghosts. If it were a simple linear story, it wouldn't capture the feeling of a haunted country.
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Actionable Insights for Readers and Writers
If you’re planning on diving into Build Your House Around My Body, or if you’re a writer looking to learn from Kupersmith’s technique, keep these points in mind:
- Don't over-explain the magic. Kupersmith never gives you a "rulebook" for her ghosts. This makes them scarier. Uncertainty is the best tool for horror.
- Use the landscape. The heat, the rain, and the specific smell of a Saigon alleyway are characters in themselves. If you’re writing, ground your supernatural elements in hyper-realistic sensory details.
- Embrace the "Unlikable" Protagonist. Winnie isn't a hero. She’s messy and often makes bad choices. This makes her disappearance feel more tragic because it feels real, not like a plot device.
- Read up on Vietnamese History. To truly appreciate the layers, look into the French colonial rubber industry and the 1945 famine. The book hits ten times harder when you realize the "monsters" are based on historical atrocities.
Final Thoughts on the Legacy of the Novel
This book is a massive achievement. It’s a 500-page puzzle that rewards patience. By the time you reach the end, the title Build Your House Around My Body takes on a literal, terrifying meaning that will stick with you long after you close the cover. It’s a reminder that we don't just live on the land; we live on the bones of everyone who came before us.
If you want to understand the modern Gothic, this is your starting point. It moves away from the dusty European castles and into the humid, crowded, and vibrant heart of Southeast Asia. It’s a bold, bloody, and beautiful mess of a book.
To get the most out of your reading experience, try mapping out the characters as you go. Many of them appear under different names or in different forms across the decades. Look for the recurring motifs of smoke, snakes, and "vessels." Everything in this novel is connected, even the things that seem like throwaway details in the first chapter. Pay attention to the dogs. Pay attention to the trees. Nothing is accidental.