This semester, I am teaching an American Literature course, which is focused on the American Gothic tradition. We’re in the midst of our discussion of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables (1851) and the students’ major project for the novel is to create their own representation of the house. This can be in a range of mediums (i.e. graphic design, architectural plans, a painting, a board game, a diorama or other model) and embrace whatever scope they choose, from a single room to the house as a whole or its position with the larger landscape, history, and context of Salem. We’re collectively compiling a list of details about individual rooms of the house as we work our way through the novel and we’re spending a lot of time considering the importance of place and space from narrative, historical, and cultural perspectives. The students are already running with some great ideas and I can’t wait to see what they create! 

With these visions of the House of the Seven Gables in mind, I find myself thinking about some of King’s most memorable houses, including the Marsten House from ’Salem’s Lot (1975). There have of course been several visions and permutations of the house, from King’s descriptions in the novel, to how it is represented in the 1979 miniseries, the 2004 made-for-TV movie, and the 2024 film adaptation, as well as the looming presence it takes on the second season of Hulu’s Castle Rock (2018-19). How effectively the Marsten House is presented arguably has a direct impact on the success of any ’Salem’s Lot adaptation and the house from Tobe Hooper’s miniseries version appears to be the most iconic of these, built around a Ferndale, California house that remains a frequent stop for King and horror film fans. But with the challenge I had set for my students in mind, I was curious to see how fans and creators had built their own versions of the Marsten House. 

First is Cesar Quintero’s 3D virtual walkthrough of the house, which takes viewers around the outside, before ushering them through the basement and around the dilapidated landing and main floor, with its looming staircase and deeply shadowed rooms. The staircase looms, there’s the sense that danger could be lurking around any corner or in any darkly shadowed pocket, and the ominous music contributes to the overall sense of dread and unease as Quintero’s tour explores the house. This walkthrough presentation is immersive and invites viewers into the house itself, cultivating a sense of danger and claustrophobia as the general dimensions and state of the house are highlighted. 

John Stewart of Korova Art offers a different representation of the Marsten House, with his meticulously detailed model. Measuring 18” x 22” and standing 18” high, this model of the Marsten House includes the house, surrounding land and trees, and Straker’s car parked out front, with optional LEDs that illuminate the windows and back porch light. The cellar doors open and the crate that brought Barlow to Jerusalem’s Lot is visible at the bottom of the cellar stairs. The model offers more specific details than the 3D walkthrough, encouraging viewers to pay attention to the design and execution of these minute features, as well as their representation of specific moments or narrative elements, with the immersion in this case imaginative rather than rendered through the 3D format. 

Both Quintero’s 3D walkthrough and Stewart’s excellent model (which is just one of many in an equally impressive, larger Stephen King collection) offer the opportunity to connect with the Marsten House as a physical reality, whether by immersing the viewer within the house in Quintero’s walkthrough or making the Marsten House a small-scale tangible, physical reality, as Stewart does with his model. Both approaches draw our attention to spatial details and demand that we consider the house from a concrete perspective, inviting us to ponder what it might be like to put ourselves in Ben Mears’ place, follow in his footsteps, and walk those dark, dusty, and terrifying halls.