Strega by Johanne Lykke Holm
A portal into a world of looming mountains, shadowy forests and dreams teetering on the edge of nightmare.
Welcome to the second edition of Strange Pages, where books come to life through art, objects, scent, taste and films that evoke their worlds. Today, we dive into Strega by Johanne Lykke Holm. I almost didn’t include this book. The writing feels too exquisite, like it’s something I could never reach. At one point, the author writes, “The harvest moon appeared in the sky. It was silver and iridescent, like an opal. One wanted to take it in the mouth and place it under the tongue.” That’s how her words feel to me—like something I want to savor, cold and rich, spoonful after spoonful. I want to dip my finger in and lick off every last drop.
Strega begins with Rafaela, a young woman arriving at a remote Alpine hotel to work alongside eight other girls. The Olympic Hotel, bathed in red light, feels trapped in another era, surrounded by tangled gardens and towering forests. The interiors are just as haunting—rich wood paneling, heavy drapery, elegant rooms filled with silence. Their days are consumed with routine—ironing, setting tables and preparing food for guests who never arrive. When one of the girls disappears after a strange party, Strega shifts—from dream to nightmare, one in which the girls feel as if they are under a spell they never realized was cast.
Johanne Lykke Holm’s prose is spellbinding—every word feels deliberate, carrying a weight that adds to the novel's hypnotic pull. But beneath the gorgeous descriptions, there's a creeping menace, a sense that everything beautiful has a shadow. As you enter the world of Strega, don’t be fooled by the picturesque setting—the deeper you go, the darker it becomes.
“The village was called Strega and it was in the mountains. Later I learned that Strega was a chamber of horrors, where everything had frozen into a beastly shape. I learned that Strega was deep forests bathed in red light. Strega was girls plaiting each other’s hair just so… Strega was a lake and the foliage enclosing it. Strega was a night-light illuminating what was ugliest in the world. Strega was a murdered woman and her belongings. Her suitcase, her hair, her little boxes of licorice and chocolate.”
The Look
Emily Weiner’s “Mundus Inversus”: Drapes part to reveal a red sky, casting an ominous glow over a still horizon. Like the unsettling scenes Rafaela encounters in Strega, the painting has an almost cinematic feel, where beauty veils something brooding beneath.
Meghann Stephenson’s “By All Means”: A spoon lifts a pillowy bite of pavlova, frosted in sculptural layers of whipped cream, from a black backdrop. The anonymous hand and unknown recipient echo the meticulous work of the girls in Strega—serving food to guests who remain absent.
Alina Bliumis’ “Plant Parenthood”: The delicate yet ominous Atropa Belladonna is rendered in soft, dreamlike colors. Like the poisonous plants in Strega's hotel herb garden—where rosemary and thyme mingle with oleander and belladonna—this piece evokes the duality of nature, where beauty conceals hidden dangers.
Athlyn Floral’s arrangement: Twisting stems of orchids, sweet peas and spiraling vines create an otherworldly, almost theatrical shape. The arrangement’s eerie beauty and sense of abandonment mirror the floral displays in Strega’s hotel, meticulously arranged though no one ever comes to see them—much like the girls themselves, part of an endless unwitnessed performance.
David Benjamin Sherry’s “Yosemite Falls” and “Winter Morning Fog”: Both landscapes are bathed in bold hues—one red, the other violet—transforming the natural world into something hauntingly beautiful. The saturated colors mirror Strega's setting, where forests are bathed in red light and lakes shimmer with an unnatural glow.
INAE’s “My Paradise”: Soft, dotted hues form a landscape where mountains and trees blur into mist. There’s a quiet, dreamlike quality here, where reality feels just out of reach—much like the world in Strega.
Nellie Jonsson’s clay sculpture: This whimsical ashtray features a glob of whipped cream alongside other detritus, creating a striking contrast between indulgence and decay. The juxtaposition mirrors the atmosphere of Strega’s hotel, where mundane objects carry symbolic weight.
Vilius Dringelis’ “Dinner in Brussels”: The skeletal, melting form of this silver candelabra would feel at home at The Olympic, where grand decor fills every corner. The candelabra’s twisted design mirrors the hotel’s strange interiors, where everything feels staged, yet no one is watching.
Julia Maiuri’s “Compact”: A blurred eye gazes from a compact, symbolizing the personal objects the girls in Strega hold dear—compacts, charm bracelets and tins of candies—small attempts to hold onto their sense of self amidst a surreal environment. Mirrors further underscore the novel's themes of fragmented identities, akin to the reflection in Maiuri’s “Night Stand.”
The Objects
Much like the cherished objects in Strega, Officine Universelle Buly's Baume des Muses evokes old-world charm with its vintage packaging. The brand’s comb and brush are perfect for braiding, a ritual that grounds the girls in the book. Fluff’s Lip Oil, housed in an organic-shaped stainless steel compact, brings to mind Rafaela’s bold lip, painted on the train before arriving at The Olympic, where her identity begins to slip away.
The Scent
The hotel in Strega is steeped in an atmosphere where nature and decay intertwine. As the novel describes, “Outside the terrace doors, the park lay in total darkness, but was apparent in its scents. It was a damp night. The dew spread and drowned everything it could reach, intensifying the smell of earth and honey emanating from the plants.” Racyne Parfums’ Verdeur, with its tender wood and wet leaves, captures that earthy greenness, echoing the forest scents that seep into the hotel. Meanwhile, Garden Song, with its notes of cut herbs, petals and berries, evokes the herbaceous aromas of the dew-covered gardens surrounding the hotel.
The Taste
Marion Ringborg, chef and founder of Studio Marion, is known for using food as both a creative medium and a means of connection. Through her curated table settings, she blends art, storytelling and memory. For a banquet in front of an ivy-covered building, she draped a long outdoor table in white cloth and adorned it with carefully arranged dishes. This scene mirrors Strega, where the act of preparing and serving meals is imbued with care and attention—even if no one ever shows up to eat them.
Antonella Tignanelli, an Argentine chef based in Barcelona, is known for creating immersive, themed banquets that blend food with art. Her banquet tables, like the one pictured, showcase curated plates—from lush greens and beans to artisanal cheeses—beautifully composed against draped linens. This approach, where food becomes a visual centerpiece, parallels scenes in the book.
’s plating of dishes inspired by Renaissance still lifes feels as though it was pulled directly from Strega. The silver platters, artfully arranged with glazed carrots or lettuce crowned by wilted white roses, reflect the kind of opulence found in the book. Each element—gleaming metal and vibrant vegetables—feels suspended, like a moment captured in a painting.
The Films
Much like the girls at the hotel, the students at the Tanz Academy in Suspiria are drawn into a surreal world that blurs the line between reality and nightmare. Both stories delve into collective female experience, ritual and hidden horrors. Each also uses striking colors—especially red—to heighten tension. In Strega, red light bathes the forests and hotel, hinting at something sinister, while in Suspiria, vivid hues are essential to the film’s dreamlike aesthetic.
Two other films that explore the themes of Strega are The Shining and Picnic at Hanging Rock. Like the isolated Overlook Hotel in The Shining, Strega’s Olympic Hotel blurs the physical and psychological, creating an uncanny, oppressive space where silence and tension simmer into madness. In Picnic at Hanging Rock, the mysterious disappearance of girls echoes Strega's vanishing act, as both stories use landscape and atmosphere to craft a slow-burning, unsolved mystery at their core.
The Setting
The novel opens with Rafaela journeying to the fictional town of Strega, traveling first by train and then ascending by aerial cableway to a remote spot somewhere in Italy. “At the foot of the mountains, the trees stood in perfect rows, as though dipped in wax and coated in glitter,” Holms writes. “On the rhododendrons hung dewdrops of silicone. A roaring waterfall, which seemed frozen in time. I looked at the mountains and the mountains looked back. Without a doubt an evil place in costume.”
Likely set in the Dolomites, Strega draws from the region’s rich mythology, where legends weave through the mountains. One tale tells of a moon princess who, longing for home, had the peaks whitewashed, creating the pale mountains we see today. Another speaks of a sorcerer, who, in love with a water nymph, shattered a rainbow into Lago di Carezza, its colors still reflected in the lake’s iridescent waters. These enchanting stories mirror the mood of Strega, where myth and mystery shape the landscape.
In the 19th and early 20th centuries, wellness seekers flocked to the Dolomites for their mineral springs and renowned healing sanitariums. Today, alpine spas like Forestis, nestled in the forest atop the Plose massif, continue this tradition, offering serenity within pristine landscapes. As The New York Times noted, people come for the “untrammeled snow, unsullied air [and] velvet cloak of silence.” This silence can either calm or unnerve—depending on whether you're staying at Forestis or The Olympic.
The End
As we close the curtains and step away from the quiet, unsettling corridors of The Olympic, I wonder—what lingers for you?
Which part of Strega’s haunting world has stayed with you the longest?
In what ways did the art, scents or objects we explored today help bring the novel’s world to life for you?
As you close this chapter of Strange Pages, what book would you like to see come to life next?