“There’s nothing a woman can do that threatens the world more than marching outside the lines of definition. There’s a reason they used to mark the unknown land in ancient maps with a very telling text, ‘Here There Be Monsters.’”
***
“Forget Mars; the inside of a woman is the most gorgeous and frightening place in this whole universe and its anger, poignance, and possibility.”
From Weird Girls: Writing the Art Monster by Caroline Hagood
***
There is a moment in Caroline Hagood’s latest book, Weird Girls: Writing the Art Monster (2022), where I quickly noted the quotation and wrote beside it, “my soul mate!” Here’s the quotation: “If other kids wanted princesses, I wanted monsters.”
I thought I wasn’t going to receive this book until November (I preordered) but, lo and behold, it arrived yesterday…and I promptly started reading it on my couch and finished it in one sitting. It is that engrossing. Caroline Hagood, who has published a novel, poetry collections, and an essay collection—among other things—has done it again in her brilliantly sharp writing. She has merged literary scholarship, personal essay, irreverent observations (the best!), poetic language, feminism, film studies, and the craft of creation (but wait, there’s more!) in this Frankensteinian creature of a hybrid text. She describes her writing style as “memoir as glimpsed in a fun house mirror. I leave little traces of who I am for you to parse apart. This is how I keep myself safe from predators.” This feels more than apt: it’s perfect. The whole time we’re reading, we lean in close to listen to her secrets spilling. Sometimes, they spill as poetry from ruby-red lips of a luring siren; other times, they spill as warnings from the sliced bowels of some inner-demon of eldritch creation. I kept thinking of one of my favorite Djuna Barnes quotations (an excerpt from Nightwood I keep written on a Post-It Note stuck to my desk): “Sometimes one meets a woman who is a beast turning human.” Sometimes, one meets a woman who is a beast becoming a writer. And vice versa.
In many ways, too, Hagood is, unabashedly and deliciously, “building a coven,” to borrow her words. She is inviting women and outsiders to attach themselves to her with their (supposed) monstrosity and their maternal instincts and their strangeness and they’re inability to fit anywhere. Fluidly, she moves from discussing the witches of Oz to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to raising two children in New York City to unspecified trauma to stand-up comedy to addiction to Lady Gaga to confessional female poets to the Fates to U.S. First Ladies to Macbeth’s Weird Sisters to…well, you see where I’m (or she is) going with this. Weird Girls: Writing the Art Monster is all about suturing together meaning only to undrape it to reveal another meaning lurking beneath. And then, if you turn sideways or upside down, you find another meaning. And it's all relevant to The Writer, that “art monster” who is not the typical white, hetero male at work at his Great American novel but, rather, a woman attentive to daily nuances that are more loaded than a cannon and oddly louder due to their silences. With humor, wit, and some cheek, Hagood’s work exposes the art of creation as something messy and vital, and mythic in unexpected ways.
If, as Hagood stresses, “to learn and create in profound ways, you need hybridity,” Weird Girls is here to keep us learning and creating. We are large and contain multitudes and so does this smart and provocative book. Now, go devour it like the greedy little ravenous bibliophilic monsters you are. Read all the books she mentions. Watch the films addressed. Go out and view the world as if you’re hanging upside down or standing beside yourself or living in some stranger’s body or a hybrid being like a centaur. And, then, write about it. Because those are the kinds of stories and ideas I want to read. I’m pretty sure Caroline Hagood does, too!