I got through about half of this book before I had to quit. It was either that or bash my head into a wall, and I prefer the non-violent approach. Nothing much happens, the point of view bounces all over the place between eight different characters, and the writing style itself just drove me up the wall. 
 After closing the book and declaring myself done, I went and looked up the New York Times review, and had to laugh over this line: 
 "The Red House," on the other hand, reads as if it were written to silence those critics who damn Haddon with the faint praise of being too "readable." Mission accomplished. 
 Such a disappointment.