Big Eyes and Bluebell Woods
A Story of Idolatry
by David Mario Callan

one e-book. cost $15 US dollars. 476 pages.

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When, after about ten years, I came to rework this book, it occured to me that if I'd been asked to write it now, I probably couldn't. Not that I shy from controversial topics (I think literature should embrace those questions asked but which are oftentimes subdued for fear of censure. It's the way we move on, after all). Having said this, the book forcefully bears the most fundamentally controversial topics of all. Somewhat in the fashion of a thrust from a lion's claw.

The book is romantic at its core, but the romance is taboo. The taboo encompassses what most people won't wish to contemplate because it stabs deep into their expectations about themselves. The relationship transcends the taken for granteds of time and place. It involves the wielding of a supernatural power that dominates and controls. It involves viscious murder. Reincarnation of famous people. Idolatry of a woman. And so forth. The book is absolutely unique.

I will end this brief foreword by saying that the name of the main protagonist interchanges between Marianna and her abbreviation, Maria. Thus, begins the story of the Italian diva, Marianna Canali and her idolator, David Lawrence.

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Marianna intends to make her comeback by performing the main role in an opera, titled; Ariadne and Dio. The novel, though a love story of immense depth, in its entirety is the most controversial revealing of all time. What does it reveal? You will be amazed. Truly!

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A word about the characters. David Lawrence, the lover, is twenty-two years old, that is, approaching thirty years younger than is Maria. (Incidentally, his time with her is reflected throughout the series as a quickly developing maturity). Here, at 'Bluebell Woods', which is Maria's mansion, in rural Yorkshire, England, occurs much which is at the extreme and often, a reach beyond the limit of consummate sensuality. For him, she is also a hand-held plunge into the cultured elite, the mystifying, the fantastic and unknown cosmology, into which he leaps willingly.

Callassa. The supernatural. Callassa. The supernatural. Callassa. The supernatural. Callassa.

The novel is offered to the reader in a classical style of writing and through Maria's beauty, talent and thunder is displayed many of her deepest passions which include ..................

Callassa. The supernatural. Callassa. The supernatural.
Callassa. The supernatural. Callassa.

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Here are extracts from the 'seance scene,' where Maria communes with those long absent;

Maria, as I expected, was going to take charge of the proceedings.
This she did with an introduction. "Well, let me see," she began, "I shall be able to guess the messages if the first letter is indicated, because the complete words will be created in my mind." Then, after smiling at me and winking an eye," she said, "Honey, let my finger do the moving. Just touch my hand, like this,....see."
Suddenly, a noise had erupted and its jolt took my attention away from her.

BLEEP. BLEEP. BLEEP...........

The interruption had made Octavian laugh, more for the effect it had upon Maria. She was frowning at the source of what had very effectively begun irritating her. Then, with what sounded almost like a growl, she said, "Who the Hell is that, assinacio?"
Octavian offered her an explanation, "Maria, perhaps the immortals have decided to use British Telecom?."
"Octavian, you jest," she replied, the peak of her agitation having quickly faded as soon as the bleeping of the telephone had come to an abrupt halt. My watching those few moments of her annoyance reminded me of how fast her temper could boil to overflowing. Obviously with Octavian present, she would control herself. I hoped so, anyway.
Maria took a deep breath and closed her eyes. There was a residue of the previous outburst still remaining and it showed in the tightening of her mouth. This, however, quickly melted. I have often wondered how she'd accommodated such annoyances in the past, her having been what can loosely be described as a 'stage performer'? According to Octavian, she did not cope at all, she was always the veritable explosive woman, 'vituperative' is a word he has used. I cannot be impartial because I see the way she reacts as uniquely 'her'.
"Are we all ready?" she asked, gesturing for me to place my hand upon hers.
Octavian rested his hand on hers too and while uttering a soft and demur, "Yes, Maria, I am ready."
Our three hands were now together within the circle of letters.
The force by which her hand began moving and taking ours along was momentarily startling. It was as if an imperceptible force had grabbed us........................

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.......................As her finger began tapping, the letters, G, and then, D, were being indicated. Tap. Tap.
Tap.....
Maria spoke into the 'empty' space between us, "Thank you, beautiful ones, for conveying through us."
"Who is it, Maria?" I asked, eager to know.
"He was Giovanni David. While living a human life, he was an opera singer. About one hundred years ago, I think."
Her hand was moving toward the letters. The presence she had just introduced was guiding her. As Maria had already stated, the words would be made in her mind. She began speaking the emerging message aloud.
"Hello, everyone. Maria Canali, you have enjoyed success and have fame and vast fortune. Why do you complain so when people find cause to criticise the length of your nose? Your disposition also bears the face that others sling upon it. "
It became difficult for me to hold back from laughing at the display of expression now upon her face.
"I beg your pardon?" she replied with obvious indignation, "Go away."
Unbelievably, she was commanding the angels to depart. She would not listen to criticism, whomever the source of it was.
Her fingers began tapping continuously on the letter, B.
"Baby Bertolucci........He says, that he was senior machine-gunner, hair stylist and and shoe-shiner for Al Capone."
Octavian and I both laughed. However, she was not amused.
Obviously perturbed by how the event was proceeding, she declared, "I don't know what to say now."
The letters, R.V. suddenly took our attention. Her fingers were tapping again and she began delivering the communiqué.
"I am sorry, Maria, we play with you. As you know, I was Valentino, 'The Great.' Just as you are great. Your smile, Maria, envelops not merely knowledge, sovereignty and reason, but the land, the sea, sky, Sun and Moon."
"Thank you," she replied, the timbre of her voice much softer now.
The one 'speaking' to us had been Rudolph Valentino. The greatest lover of women of recent times. Now, it was obvious to me why she owned copies of his movies. There was little time for me to reflect because her moving hand suggested that he wished to continue.
"Maria, please do not think for one moment that you have not affected humans for the better. Emotion of tremendous height has its roots in the gift of your presence there. Just know, that love turned inside out is indifference. Those who cannot directly have your love must turn away from you. Perhaps it is this human reaction that you cannot live with? Shaking these people with unapologetic statements you intend to make in your new opera, 'Ariadne and Dio', may not be the ideal path to tread..............................."

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............................It was a few moments before her hand began to move again. When it did so, she guided Octavian and I to the letter, V.
"Ah, it is Vincent Van Gogh," declared Octavian.
The visitor was greeted with an exaggerated 'Hello', by Maria and I. Octavian continued speaking the words as the letters were quickly being indicated;
"Greetings, my friends. Especially to you Marianna, for I want to say that I am pleased that you like the art which I have inspired you to buy. Though I knew you would. Might I ask of you a small request?"
"Yes, please ask me," beckoned Maria, with an obvious eagerness to know evident in her voice.
"I wish to create the painting of you lying curled upon the bed. Well, you do not know about it yet but it is being planned by Lawrence. He wants your beautiful human aspect to remain there forever. I can inspire someone as great as I was to paint you, Marianna. I believe it is a wonderful idea because it will make the artist famous in this lifetime, not after his death, as was the case when I was Vincent. That thankless life, that when all love was driven from my heart was different applause than is yours. I am sorry for the mood of my last remark."
"That is all right," said Maria, "I think you are absolutely justified."
While she'd been speaking, a glance from the corner of her eyes told me that she had something to say to the one who'd been planning the nude painting. Namely, I.
"It would be my privilege to be painted by someone inspired by you, Vincent. But I lie on the bed unclothed. Presumably it is my doing this which my David Lawrence had in mind?"
"I know that Lawrence carries the beautiful image of you in his thoughts. But most recently, he spent hours watching you sleeping and he was thinking of an oil painting. Ha. Ha. Ha."
"I would be honored to pose, " she replied................................

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..............................Octavian gestured that there was an immortal wishing to speak through him. I knew whom it was even before he announced who. It was someone very special to Maria. A person who had been particularly close to her during her previous life in Rome. The visitor was her 'sister' and her protector, in immortality, Athene.
"Maria, there is someone whom........"
Amidst a huge smile came her whispered reply, "I know who she is."
This time, the words were being spelled out very forcefully, ATHENE.....CORINTHIUS.....ACHAEA."
"Greetings, my dearest, my Athene."
"Hail The Almighty Caesar. Hail Aphrodite. I love you, and the gratious there also and equally. Please, revel in that I have never left your heart's tempest."
Maria was eager to reply, "Your presence has meant great strength to me, Athene, truly. I miss being like you are now. The art of our necessities is deeply attired. Your benediction over me causes me to know my imperfect mind."
"You shall be as I am," came the response, "Shed, we shall be as one, as shall all amaranthine beings, in the oneness which is our paradise."
Maria was silent. There was no doubting that her mind was being cast back to our lives as Roman citizens. When Athene had been with Maria and I, and they, the sisters, had worked together on the play, 'Ariadne and Dio'. Obviously, that time has special meaning to Maria. Octavian and myself too.
Athene began communing; "Might you dwell at Roma, when we were together? When I taught my loved one how to act and you became acclaimed as the finest dramatic singer?"
Maria replied, "Yes, Athene. I do remember. The condition remains with me."
"Your performances in the theatre hallowed to the great Pompey were so very teeming with our energy. As the months and the years, they were dangling garlands, friends of the beauteous flowers and winnowing winds to adorn and enrich all eyes and minds. Oh, I am reminded of our beloved Vergillius Maro. of Euripides equally, whose blasting weight so enriched our music, but ah!, our rendition of Jason, was the finest and most fulfilling for me as it did claw at their ears."
"I remember them too," said Maria, subdued and soft.
"But attend our play, 'Ariadne and Dio', which we did caste and which Octavianus completed after we departed is the finest, as it represents we, Caesar Octavianus, you Aphrodite, Lawrence and myself. Thence it hallows those divine blooms who were before, during and after us, equally. Though it curses every sense of those who are not "
"Athene, I was considering using the play now, to tell the truth about myself, to show humans what we really are."
"I know your thoughts. Do not fret about the consequences. I intend to protect you. What happened to you at Roma shall not be allowed again. No one will hurt either of you, because I am going to repose as the golden eagle and the most vengeful creature of all history. Recall, when I tore out the eyes of Dio's slayer in the arena? I will act so again and much more in same and difference. I must tell you that above my head at the twenty-third hour of each day, will appear the star. The very puissance Octavianus did witness when Gaius Julius reappeared for him. Beneath the shroud of my golden wings, you all shall enjoy the ultimate protection. My beloved sister. This, I make promise. Hail The Almighty Caesar. Hail Aphrodite................"

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476 pages on one pdf file.
regd. copyright 2010 @ The Library of Congress, Washington DC. USA.
ISBN 978-0-93533712-8-0 All rights reserved. No part may be reproduced.

Callassa. The supernatural. Callassa. The supernatural. Callassa. The supernatural. Callassa.

Callassa Media Company Ltd
Electronic Books
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Thanks Luca, for the somewhat long offering! It's difficult to shift fact into fiction, is it not? DMC.