The Sandman - Issue 17 - Calliope

Recap: Dream Country is what I always considered a Sandman Interlude. The quartet of stories featured in this shorter volume represents some of the best stories Neil ever wrote in this medium. The emotional and ominous tales are further intensified by the confronting artwork of original Sandman artist Kelley Jones.

The first issue in this quadrilogy is Calliope, a tale with which I have a love-hate relationship. There's no denying the importance of the issue and its ability to move the reader equally powerful, but the emotion it engenders when I read Calliope is fury.

As a writer, albeit not a successful one, what keeps me laboring is not fame or fortune but my love of writing. I love it so much that even if I'm scribbling stories in my Alzheimer's muddled mind on notepads that will vanish into infinity, it doesn't matter. Writing is mine, the one thing I can do. Even when crafting recaps like this or penning a novel that will be read by a few, it matters little as long as the idea is given form. If I can't write, I'll die. This much I know for a fact.

I'm not unique. Many of us feels this way but this love is beyond Erasmus Fry or Richard Madoc.

They're not writers when an idea is just a vehicle for their ambitions. I don't know what to call them, but I dislike them both intensely. The idea of creating anything borne out of someone's daily torture, is profane and sullies the work.

Calliope opens in 1986, presumably when Morpheus is nearing the end of his incarceration at Wych Cross Manor. Our story begins with Richard Madoc, author of 'The Cabaret of Dr. Galgari,' receiving a trichobezoar from Felix Garrison, a fan with a surgical background. Following the encounter, we learn Madoc has writer's block. Worse yet, the wolves are at the door demanding he produce his current book, now nine months overdue, or face litigation. Desperation drives Madoc to the doorstep of Erasmus Fry, a once-celebrated author now somewhat forgotten by the world.

Fry is a thoroughly unlikeable character, and though I never saw it at first reading, he is a bully who enjoys toying with his victims. When Madoc arrives at his doorstep, he unnecessarily prolongs the encounter by prattling on about the bezoar, knowing Madoc is at the end of his rope. When they finally arrive at the reason for Madoc's visit, Fry's cruelty takes an even darker turn as he advises Madoc how to 'handle' his new acquisition. When we learn what that is, his words become monstrous.

You see, in 1927, Fry made a trip to Mount Helicon to catch himself a Muse. Armed with moly flowers that can render a goddess helpless, he encounters Calliope, the muse of eloquence and epic poetry, and chains her to him forever by burning her scroll. Since then, Calliope has been his captive, trapped naked in the darkness, raped, and manipulated with the hope that freedom would come with Fry's death.

That hope is shattered with the revelation she is about to begin another tenure of abuse and servitude as Madoc's property. With callous indifference, Fry sends Calliope to her fate with Madoc now that he no longer has any use for her.

Madoc proves himself no better than Fry, locking Calliope in her cell at the top room of his house and then raping her. Unlike the Netflix show, the comic does not spare us the details, and I'm still in two minds about which was the best approach. That being said, the look in Calliope's eyes during her violation stayed with me for a long time and might be the most lasting image I have of rape. Madoc consoles himself with the belief that most rapists, particularly the good ol' boys from slave-owning days, tell themselves about their victims. They're not even human.

This act leads Madoc to his writing breakthrough, and the result of Calliope's degradation is the start of Madoc's second novel.

Calliope, in despair, calls on the Three Ladies to come to her aid. She implores them for help, but they cannot intercede on her behalf, thanks to Fry's careful planning of capturing her on Mt. Helicon. Nor can any other gods, some who have retreated from the mortal plane or have vanished for good. Only the Endless remain, though they have troubles of their own.

We are now reminded that Calliope and Morpheus, or Oneiros as she refers to him, were once lovers and that the mythological Orpheus is a child of that union. Calliope balks at the possibility of Morpheus's help, claiming his hate for her would prevent him from offering it and her from accepting it. The Ladies quickly reveal that the Lord Shaper is in no position to help because he's still trapped by Burgess. Calliope's anguish breaks down her pride as they leave her, and she begs for someone to help her, even Oneiros.

Meanwhile, Madoc continues to enjoy the fruits of Calliope's captivity, going from strength to strength as a famed author, screenwriter, and then director. He's celebrated by all and has the temerity to consider himself a feminist author. Unlike Arthur Darvill's nuanced performance as Madoc, nothing is redeeming about him in these pages. He's an ambitious opportunist whose vehicle is the literary world. I doubt the love of the work is even a part of the equation. He exists to generate product for his own self-gratification.

Calliope is his unwilling partner in his meteoric rise, and the best thing I can say about Madoc here is that he gave her clothes. At the same time Madoc learns of Fry's death (I hope it was painful), Calliope receives a visitor. While we don't see Morpheus, it can be no one else, and Calliope begs him with whatever love he once had for her for help.

Madoc returns home and finds Morpheus waiting for him.

He reacts with the typical bluster of the entitled, threatening to call the police with no idea of the supernatural world he has so blatantly dismissed and defiled. Morpheus's anger is evident by the twin lights of his eyes resembling novas instead of stars. When Madoc confesses he can't release Calliope because he needs ideas, Morpheus cuts him off abruptly. As far as the Lord of Dreams is concerned, Calliope has suffered even worse than him during her captivity, and he empathizes with her pain. It further disgusts him that the cause of all this anguish is Madoc's need for ideas.

Morpheus decrees if it's ideas Madoc wants, that's precisely what he'll get. In abundance.

When Madoc wakes up from what he thinks is a dream, he accuses Calliope of giving him nightmares and threatens her again. Calliope doesn't hold back, revealing to Madoc he just met Oneiros, her lover and the father of her son. This surprises Madoc, who has trapped a Muse with no idea of the world she came from. Perhaps realizing that Madoc is about to suffer the full wrath of the Dream King, Calliope sends him on his way, dismissing him from her sight for the last time.

Madoc's comeuppance arrives when he steps out the door on his way to a party. The ideas come with the force of a tsunami until reality vanishes around him in a whirlpool of errant thoughts. As he succumbs to this literary dementia, he is discovered by Felix Garrison, the fan who provided him with his bezoar for Fry. Garrison finds his idol next to a wall covered in scrawls of blood from Madoc's ruined hands.

Madoc emerges from his mania long enough to beg for Garrison's help and explain his predicament. However, there can be no help while Calliope is imprisoned. He pleads with Garrison to go to his house and release the woman locked up there and apologise to her. Ha! I do wish Neil wrote Garrison's reaction to all this. Did Garrison think the request to be a product of Madoc's deluded mind, or did he really think his idol was keeping a woman captive?

We'll never know because Garrison finds no one in the room when he arrives. There's nothing except a copy of Fry's book, 'Here Comes a Candle.' He leaves Madoc's house, uncertain of what has happened here.

Calliope is now free and returned to some semblance of her former self. Unlike her Netflix counterpart, Calliope does not feel empowered to change the rules to prevent such imprisonment. In this tale, she is a woman needing time to recover from a horrific ordeal. Understandably, she wants to retreat from our world. She's been given little reason to believe humanity deserves her gifts. Even so, she asks Morpheus to release Madoc from his torment.

She does, however, note the change in Morpheus. He is far more compassionate than he used to be. After Nada, we can certainly agree with that. The source of their enmity is not explored further, but is clear they've made peace with each other, even if the hurt is still there. They part on good terms, which is the best one can hope for with such endings.

Garrison returns to Madoc and finds that the mania that gripped the author is gone. However, its effect on Madoc is unmistakable. He can't hold a thought long enough to form an idea. They're all gone and In light of his crimes, it's as it should be.

And that's it! Come back next week for cats. Lots of cats. A thousand of them.

Next - Issue 18 - A Dream of a Thousand Cats

Previous - Issue 16 - Lost Hearts