Calliope is a book dealing with loss and regret at the midpoint of life, and the desire to get back to the formal moment when one’s naïveté inspires hope, promise and belief. The paradox, of course, is can one regain it once wisdom has been acquired through experience? Maybe the answer lies in Nietzsche’s devotion to a constant re-evaluation of values. It is at this point where the artist once again meets the muse.
After the loss of all material possessions, of innocence, of identity, of sympathy, of happiness, of God and hope, perhaps an adventure with the electric, orange-haired muse is the key. Devoid of morality and with a penchant for mischief, she is for all intents and purposes Greek, which means pre-Christian. Therefore, her moral code is not affected by the guilt of Christianity. Her nakedness throughout the novel in part symbolizes her complete lack of shame. When Calliope tricks the protagonist into partaking on a wild, episodic flight that intertwines both nature and civilization that sparks shadows of Rousseau, that involves shoplifting and punk rock music, she is not unlike Dante’s Virgil leading him on an adventure spiraling back toward redemption. It is only after such a journey that the artist can destroy and create, and having achieved such a thing, he or she is now opened to the return of that natural state experienced most prominently in youth where possibilities seem endless...where hope replaces loss.