The Sibyl's Mistake
A Novel
by
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At that moment, the stage went black. Radames exhaled and the conductor lowered his baton. A loud drumroll was heard, three spotlights formed concentric circles center stage, focused on an amorphous, sparkling mass. An unseen soprano began a strange, vaguely oriental, lilting song, causing Carl to open his eyes in sudden recognition. The glittering body on the stage raised an arm. Was there ever any arm so sinuous as this one as it writhed in time with the song? The audience became completely silent. The arm reached upwards and the body followed and stood, an immensely fat odalisque completely covered in a sequined harem costume, eyes heavily lined with kohl, a golden and bejeweled turban on her head. She writhed, she hooched, she hunched, she bumped and ground, she shook her great ass, she did backbends, she mimed burning her hands over imaginary candles, she raised her head and opened her big eyes looking upwards so that the whites flashed in the spots, and then she turned full front towards the royal box and began slow movements of an incredibly libidinous and prurient essence. The San Carlo Opera executive director blushed. Not a sound from the audience marred the strange song. Then the song slowed, faded, and ended as the odalisque collapsed in time to it onto the floor again, a final snaking arm dropping into her shapeless form, still except for rapid breathing which caused the sequins to quiver and glitter. The spotlights snapped off, leaving the stage in blackness once more. When the regular stage lights went on again, the odalisque was gone. There was a telling silence in the theater of the kind which happens only on the very rare occasions when an audience has been stunned by a performance. A pause. Then all hell broke loose as they screamed, applauded, shouted ten thousand bravas, and waited for the odalisque to take a curtain call. She did not. She was never seen or heard from again. That night, the opera plodded to the end and the audience left. Next day, Naples had another goddess to place in its unique pantheon. All over the city, they talked of the odalisque. And know what? Everybody knew she was a man.
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About the Book
The Sibyl’s Mistake recounts the summer adventures of several sets of American visitors to southern Italy. Frank Bones, at the beginning of a one-year sabbatical from the University of California at Berkley, has come to Naples to bask in the beautiful city and to spend the year exploring. As his adventure unfolds, he meets an unusual cast of characters, each with a different story and reason for being there at that particular time.
They have the ordinary adventures of travelers in foreign countries, but also most unusual ones, including being in costume onstage live at the San Carlo Opera and spending time on the volcanic island of Stromboli as it is destroyed by an eruption. They experience great loves and a strange, ritualistic, erotic murder.
Perhaps a now-obese Bacchus is among the mortals again, making life interesting—drawing each character into the story. Will they survive the mystery that is about to unfold, and how will their lives be changed if they do?
About the Author
Edward Wilson is a paleontologist who for thirty years was the curator of a huge fossil collection for a major museum in California. He mounted scientific expeditions to many places in the Western US, Mexico, Bolivia, and Peru, with numerous articles published in scientific journals. He presently lives in the southern California desert.