get back to the apartment, a little drunk from
too much cut-price midday rosé, I open my laptop, to research. But before I can google
“Mystery Religions,” I see a notification. I have an e-mail. From Mom. And the subject
is: Coming to see you!!
What?
Somewhat startled, I open the e-mail.
Hi, Alex . . .
The e-mail is typical Mom, breathless and loving and badly punctuated. But the meaning
is clear: Mom’s best friend, Margo—who is much richer—is going to Amalfi for a holiday
with friends, and Mom is joining her. My mother is using up some of her precious savings
to fly all the way to Italy so she can see her darling daughter and have a nice holiday.
She will be here in three days’ time.
I know you don’t want your mom cramping your style so don’t worry, I won’t linger,
hon! But we can have a few days together in Naples. I so want to eat the delizioso ice cream!
I close the e-mail. My dear, sheltered, suburban American mother. What will she think
of Naples? I have a feeling it won’t match her gilded and romanticized dream of Italy.
But I am glad she is coming. I miss her; I miss all my family. She and I used to be
very close. She was a great mom when I was a kid; it wasn’t her fault I got bored
of San Jose and In-N-Out.
What on earth do I tell her about Marc? Anything?
I decide to file the problem away for another day. Instead, I search “Mystery Religions”
and read.
The Mystery Religions flourished across the Greco-Roman world from the fifth century BC to the end of the Roman Empire, in about AD 400. The principal and overriding characteristic of a Mystery Religion is the secrecy
associated with the rituals of initiation, which lead the celebrant to a spiritual
revelation. The most celebrated mysteries of Greco-Roman antiquity were the Eleusinian
Mysteries, but the Orphic, Dionysian, and Mithraic Mysteries were also famous.
So which Mystery is Marc involved in? Two minutes’ research tells me it is probably
the Mysteries of Dionysus, or some variant, or mixture.
Dionysia, or the Dionysiac Mysteries, were established throughout the Greek world.
Dionysus (Diæνυsov) was the Greek god of wine, but also the god of fertility, and
of vegetation.
Male and female initiates into Dionysia followed different paths. The women followers
were known as the Maenads or “frenzied women” or Bacchants (or Bacchae), “women of
Bacchus.” The female initiation commonly involved drinking and singing and sometimes
frenzied dancing (or even howling like wild animals). It is generally believed that
part of the initiation into the cult involved intense sexual activity, from flagellation
to orgies, and beyond . . .
Beyond?
For the next three hours I am immersed in the bizarre world of Orpheus and the god
of ecstasy. Yet my research concludes with my tired, stupid, and rather wandering
mind helplessly typing in the words “Marc Roscarrick.” Why? Why torment myself? I
just want to know. Though I’m not entirely sure what I want to know.
A news item tops the page. Yawning from the afternoon alcohol, I click on it. It is
a celebrity website. In Italian. Its prose is as breathless as my mother’s.
I read on, laboriously translating the words.
The website tells me the molto bello e scapolo (the “very handsome and eligible”) Lord Roscarrick has been sighted in London, for
some festival of Italian films.
There is a small photo accompanying the piece, which I enlarge with a click. It shows
him leaving a fashionable restaurant in “ il West End di Londra, ” smiling that distant, sad, glittering smile at the paparazzo’s camera. I can see
there are several young women in his party, caught in the flash of the popping camera;
all of them beautiful, of course. Marc stares at the camera; I stare at the women
alongside him. Long-legged, like colts, like a millionaire’s polo ponies. Gorgeous,
expensive women. Fashionable English and
too much cut-price midday rosé, I open my laptop, to research. But before I can google
“Mystery Religions,” I see a notification. I have an e-mail. From Mom. And the subject
is: Coming to see you!!
What?
Somewhat startled, I open the e-mail.
Hi, Alex . . .
The e-mail is typical Mom, breathless and loving and badly punctuated. But the meaning
is clear: Mom’s best friend, Margo—who is much richer—is going to Amalfi for a holiday
with friends, and Mom is joining her. My mother is using up some of her precious savings
to fly all the way to Italy so she can see her darling daughter and have a nice holiday.
She will be here in three days’ time.
I know you don’t want your mom cramping your style so don’t worry, I won’t linger,
hon! But we can have a few days together in Naples. I so want to eat the delizioso ice cream!
I close the e-mail. My dear, sheltered, suburban American mother. What will she think
of Naples? I have a feeling it won’t match her gilded and romanticized dream of Italy.
But I am glad she is coming. I miss her; I miss all my family. She and I used to be
very close. She was a great mom when I was a kid; it wasn’t her fault I got bored
of San Jose and In-N-Out.
What on earth do I tell her about Marc? Anything?
I decide to file the problem away for another day. Instead, I search “Mystery Religions”
and read.
The Mystery Religions flourished across the Greco-Roman world from the fifth century BC to the end of the Roman Empire, in about AD 400. The principal and overriding characteristic of a Mystery Religion is the secrecy
associated with the rituals of initiation, which lead the celebrant to a spiritual
revelation. The most celebrated mysteries of Greco-Roman antiquity were the Eleusinian
Mysteries, but the Orphic, Dionysian, and Mithraic Mysteries were also famous.
So which Mystery is Marc involved in? Two minutes’ research tells me it is probably
the Mysteries of Dionysus, or some variant, or mixture.
Dionysia, or the Dionysiac Mysteries, were established throughout the Greek world.
Dionysus (Diæνυsov) was the Greek god of wine, but also the god of fertility, and
of vegetation.
Male and female initiates into Dionysia followed different paths. The women followers
were known as the Maenads or “frenzied women” or Bacchants (or Bacchae), “women of
Bacchus.” The female initiation commonly involved drinking and singing and sometimes
frenzied dancing (or even howling like wild animals). It is generally believed that
part of the initiation into the cult involved intense sexual activity, from flagellation
to orgies, and beyond . . .
Beyond?
For the next three hours I am immersed in the bizarre world of Orpheus and the god
of ecstasy. Yet my research concludes with my tired, stupid, and rather wandering
mind helplessly typing in the words “Marc Roscarrick.” Why? Why torment myself? I
just want to know. Though I’m not entirely sure what I want to know.
A news item tops the page. Yawning from the afternoon alcohol, I click on it. It is
a celebrity website. In Italian. Its prose is as breathless as my mother’s.
I read on, laboriously translating the words.
The website tells me the molto bello e scapolo (the “very handsome and eligible”) Lord Roscarrick has been sighted in London, for
some festival of Italian films.
There is a small photo accompanying the piece, which I enlarge with a click. It shows
him leaving a fashionable restaurant in “ il West End di Londra, ” smiling that distant, sad, glittering smile at the paparazzo’s camera. I can see
there are several young women in his party, caught in the flash of the popping camera;
all of them beautiful, of course. Marc stares at the camera; I stare at the women
alongside him. Long-legged, like colts, like a millionaire’s polo ponies. Gorgeous,
expensive women. Fashionable English and