Little Oracles

S04:E01 | Retread: On Coming Back to Creativity + Five Fave Creepy Reads

• allison arth • Season 4 • Episode 2

Share episode

We're back, baby ... back to basics, that is. In this first episode of a season-opening three-parter, we talk about rereading as inspiration mining; leaning into complementary crafts to prime the proverbial creative pump; and five of my fave creepy reads, just in time for Halloween week (plus two bonus boogedy-boos just for you): 

  • Strega by Johanne Lykke Holm (trans. Saskia Vogel)
  • At the Edge of the Woods by Kathryn Bromwich
  • Where the Wild Ladies Are by Aoko Matsuda (trans. Polly Barton)
  • Our Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez (trans. Megan McDowell)
  • Woman, Eating by Claire Kohda
  • BONUS! Dark Tales by Shirley Jackson
  • BONUS! Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh

Thanks so much for being here, and, as always, take care, keep creating, and stay divine!

Resources

IG: @littleoracles

[Intro music]

Hi everybody, and welcome to the Little Oracles podcast, an oracle for the everyday creative. I’m Allison Arth.

Well, it’s been a minute. [laughs] And by short way of explaining my absence from this podcast, I’ve been through a lot this past year, a lot of grieving some very close losses, and trying to get my bearings in a fundamentally transitional, kind of crucible year for me and for my household, and the upshot of all of that — at least insofar as it affects this platform, and by extension, all of you — is that I haven’t felt creative.

I haven’t been compelled by a big concept or a question or a wild hare to sit down and make an episode. I haven’t felt like I had anything insightful to say, or any tips and tricks to impart, or even anything to simply share with this little community of creatives that we built last year. I was just so stuck in my sadness and, to be honest, my blankness — you know, that general feeling of nothing, of “I don’t have any ideas,” of barely being there for myself as a person, let alone as a creator.

And it was uncomfortable, and kinda scary, I’m not gonna lie to you. [chuckles] ut as the hours and the days and the months ticked by, I started coming back to creative pursuits, in a pretty high-level way — like concepting; like coming up with catchalls for creative projects: taking notes for a new poetry game, forexample, or sketching an embroidery idea; you know, that brainstorm-y, throw-the-spaghetti-on-the-wall-and-see-if-it-sticks type of thinking that’s the precursor to the project.

But [chuckles] as you can imagine, that kind of dribs-and-drabs approach isn’t quite enough to make the magic happen, but, you know, I’ll tell what is; I’ll tell you what got me out of this nearly year-long funk I’ve been wading through, and maybe, if you’re in a similar place now, or you are in the future, you can use these strategies, too, to help raise your creative soul from the dead [laughs], so to speak.

So for me, this Phoenix-like revival [laughs] is manifold, but it’s essentially this convergence of circumstances — or maybe it’s more like a conflagration of circumstances, if we want to lean into the firebird metaphor — but these are the things thatthat gave me … I don’t want to call it a “push,” because it was less that I was dragging my feet and more that I was just really, deeply unmotivated and uninspired; I guess it’s more like these little events and moments and messages helped me rediscover a pattern of creative practice, and reminded me of what makes me feel happy and whole, and, basically, like myself.

And so over the course of three episodes, starting with this one, I’m gonna tell you about three things — whether they’re moments of self-discovery, or conversations, or right-place, right-time happenstances — that helped me return to myself as a creative, and, ultimately, return to all of you here on this podcast.

So here’s how it started: I went back to basics. [chuckles] Because I was feeling so low for so long this year, I wasn’t really participating in one of the activities that has always been a real refuge for me, and that’s reading. If you’re a longtime listener, or you’re a member of the Asynchronous Book Club, you’ll know that books are a huge part of this podcast, and a huge part of my life, but when I was really mired in all my grief and sadness and stagnancy, I was starting and stopping books left and right; I just didn’t have the energy to challenge myself as a reader, to really bite into a book and chew it up, you know what I mean?

And so I decided to just reread a bunch of stuff. And I’m already totally a rereader; I have a few books that I reread every year because I just love them that much — Dark Tales by Shirley Jackson, and Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan come to mind (I’m gonna talk about Dark Tales here in a little bit); but if you’ve been listening to this podcast for any length of time, those titles and or those authors have crossed your ears — but it was this dedicated act of rereading books that I really loved, and some that I didn’t really love, that eased me back into reading again, and into thinking about books and literature again in the way I’d been used to, and into enjoying that activity again, that pastime and this great love of mine, really, that always brought me so much joy before.

And I’ve said before here on Little Oracles that reading is a huge part of my creative practice, because it opens new channels for me, as writer, and as a communicator, and as a — dare I say it? — storyteller; reading really just inspires me to write. And so I started really small, you know, taking notes and making little poems here and there, and moving on to longer form stuff and more constellated stuff, and honestly, it’s been really eye-opening to witness that direct correlation once again: that straight line I can draw between how much I’m reading, and how much I’m writing. And maybe your creative output isn’t words like mine is; maybe it’s food or feats of miniature engineering or fine art, but whatever it is, I’m gonna bet that there’s a correlative experience or complementary craft or art form that can give you that same oomph, that same inspiration, to create within your own wheelhouse.

And here’s the thing: you don’t have to create broadly for this greasing-the-gears kind of inspiration mining to work: you could pick one subject or one medium and just iterate. Just practice drawing one subject. Just pick one piece of music and play it again and again. Just pick that one nascent idea that popped into your head and run with it. And the reason I say that is is because making multifariously — so, making a whole bunch of different things — isn’t intrinsically superior to making in multiplicity or in multivalence, and in fact, I think the last of those is particularly beneficial to you, the creator, because it gives you the opportunity to work within parameters, and to explore all the different expressions and conventions and meanings you can pack into those parameters, and if you’re feeling stuck or sad or uninspired, a few simple parameters might be enough to light the kindling that is the blank page or uncarved marble or whatever your medium is, and spark a return to your practice.

So you might be curious about some of those books that I reread that helped me return to my practice, and I’m gonna tell you about a few. Since it's spine-chilling season, I’ve got five of my favorite creepy reads for you — and let’s be honest, you can read these books in any season; I did, I do, I will; they’re just extra timely right now. But these are books I’ve reread already, or I can’t wait to reread again.

So first up, Strega by Johanne Lykke Holm; it’s in translation by Saskia Vogel. So this is a modern gothic novel — and all that really means is that, thematically and atmospherically, this book is governed by mystery and fear and, kind of, generalized haunting; that’s what “gothic” means in very broad strokes — but Strega is about this group of young women who work at a remote Alpine hotel, and one of their number goes missing. (This happens right off the bat, so not a spoiler.) But this is a portrait of sisterhood that’s hemmed in by this very sinister, very sideways energy, and it’s told in this angular, almost incantatory prose that I absolutely adore. I like to call it a strange-days story — just weird on weird on weird — with Virgin Suicides vibes, so real witchy, coven-y stuff, and it’s a great read for this time of year — or any time of year, if you’re into a little bit of gothic.

Next up, At the Edge of the Woods by Kathryn Bromwich. So this is an introspective, kinda circuitous and disjointed narrative starring another eerie village in the Italian Alps — [laughs] I might be too predictable — but it centers on a woman with a rough past; she’s alone, she’s in hiding, she’s very in her head. Honestly, this book is kind of like a Bizarro World Mrs. Dalloway, but in a film adaptation by Dario Argento, you know, the guy who made Suspiria and other ‘70s Italian giallo films. [laughs]

It also reminds me, at least in its interiority and kind of spiraling main character, of Second Place by Rachel Cusk, which I discussed back in Season Two, and I’ll link that episode in the show notes if you want to listen, and I’ll also link to my response to Mrs. Dalloway as well, also from Season Two. But At the Edge of the Woods is one of those books that I just kept thinking about as soon as I finished it, and I’m really looking forward to reliving and deepening that experience when I reread it again later this year.

Next, we’ve got Where the Wild Ladies Are by Aoko Matsuda, in translation by Polly Barton. So as with Second Place and Mrs. Dalloway, I’ve talked about Where the Wild Ladies Are here on the podcast — and I’ll link that episode for you — but, in short, this is a collection of Japanese folktales for the modern age, with a wonderfully feminist bent; these are gently hair-raising stories that center women at the verge and women beyond the veil; women in some kind of eldritch, transitory state, and it’s just a really satisfying read, you know? Just good, solid ghost stories where women control the narrative, and a great choice if you just wanna read a quick, spooky story at lunch, or on the train, or just before bed, or whatever. And, at the back, there’s a glossary that tells you more about the folktales that the stories are based on, if you want to learn more about Japanese ghost stories.

Okay, so next is a book that is in no way quick or light, it’s Our Share of Night by Mariana Enriquez, translated by Megan McDowell. This is a massive book, okay? It’s like 600-some pages, and it’s not only physically heavy, it’s emotionally heavy as well: we’re talking family dynasties, cults, the occult — it’s sweeping, it’s surreal, it’s suspenseful, it’s kinda sickening, like, it might make you sick if you’re squeamish about body horror kind of sickening. So on Instagram I wrote that it’s “a nightmare epic about fractured selves, found families, and the ends people will go to for immortality,” and that’s kinda the gist of it, so if you’re in the mood for a big, honkin’ horror book, this might fit the bill. Plus it’s got an absolute baddie of a cover by artist Donna Cheng, and while I will not judge a book’s overall merit by its cover, I am a sucker for shelf appeal, so, take from that what you will about Our Share of Night. [laughs]

Finally, we have Woman, Eating by Claire Kohda. So this is tragicomic vampire fiction, but with a feminist framing: it’s a book about consuming and being consumed, and about living in liminality and losing touch; it’s just full of dry humor and heartbreaking moments, and I just really love this book. [laughs] Our narrator, Lydia, is a loner, she’s kind of Fleabag-esque, if you’re familiar with the Phoebe Waller-Bridge show; just kind of treading water, trying to find herself, watching Korean cooking videos on YouTube to connect with her heritage — not just culturally, but also human-ly — she’s fending off and feeling deeply tied to her aging mother; it’s a really, really rich book in which not a whole lot “happens,” plot-wise, but the character portrait is chef’s kiss, in my opinion. This book has a lot in common with the “messy girl” and “gross girl” fiction that’s been cropping up over the past decade or so — books like Eileen and My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh, The New Me by Halle Butler, Dogs of Summer by Andrea Abreu (which I loved, by the way), and kind of anything by Melissa Broder or Eliza Clark. I could go on, and maybe I will in a future episode, but suffice to say, Woman, Eating is messy and gross, and, at least for me, oh-so-good.

And I know I said I was giving you five favorite rereads, but I’m adding two more, because my ooky-spooky reading list wouldn't be complete without Dark Tales by Shirley Jackson and Eileen by Ottessa Moshfegh. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Shirley Jackson depicts social dread like no one else, and Dark Tales is no exception; it’s a fabulous collection of short stories about flayed nerves, final straws, and fraying relationships. And as I mentioned above, Ottessa Moshfegh kind of corners the market on weird women; I’ve been a rabid fan since Eileen came out in 2015, I believe: Eileen is sad, she’s odd, she’s gross (I mean, she's kind of all of us, at least sometimes), and she's just dying for something to happen in her dive-bar of a town, in her nose-dive of a life, and guess what? Something happens, and it’s dreadful and bizarre and haunting. Eileen is one of my favorite books of all time, and Eileen herself is just so strange and yet so real; I can’t recommend this book enough.

And that’s it for this episode! If you’re gonna read one or some or all of these books, do remember to check out content warnings first, because reading should be a refuge, not a trigger, and I want you to have a safe and sound experience. I hope you’ve found something to hook into or latch onto, especially if you’re ready for a return to something you’ve been missing or marinating in your big creative brain. {chuckles] I wanna thank you so much for being here. You can find all of our big book energy and creativity content at little oracles dot com; you can listen to every episode of the podcast and browse the original Little Oracles digital installation, too. And, until next time, as always, take care, keep creating, and stay divine.

[Outro music]