Lost in the Labyrinth

Let's get the obvious out of the way first; this book is a labyrinth. It has us twisting and turning and in the opening tells us that what we see is not, cannot be real. Formed in words of black ink, our own minute, unfathomable darknesses. We find metaphors of darkness (read: emptiness) everywhere. What it comes down to is, I can't read this book for more than an hour and a half without my head pounding at me to stop.
and for

The weird part is now I'm imagining noises in my basement when the lights are off. So, the nature of the labyrinth is complex; is the labyrinth internal (our own psyche) or external (vis a vis the book, the house, the made up movie and sources etc.)? What's more, even if it is internal are we standing outside it (because we know why we act the way we do) and therefore understand our maze? Or inside it (because even we,at the best of times, don't understand all of why we do what we do) hence we don't know where we're going? (Read: headache)