That's one part of the book. It's encapsulated in another layer about a study (partly-finished, by a dead Mexican man) of a nonexistent documentary covering the events. In turn, that's within an account of events in the life of a psychologically troubled Californian trying to piece the other two layers together. There's also a strange thread I don't understand about the latter's relationship with his dead mother, copious and multiply-nested footnotes covering all of the above, written in different fonts to indicate the varied authorship, some scored out, including a load of stuff about a minotaur. It's obviously a haunted-house story, but there's a house and no ghost.

If this makes it sound like a strange and infuriating book, that's because it is. It's also an absolute doorstop. Enter at own risk.