A biography about Maria Callas, written by Ariana Stassinopoulos, and, titled, appropriately enough, Maria Callas, The Woman Behind the Legend, had been staring at me for some time and, so two weeks ago, I started reading.

Written in 1981, the book is actually two biographies in one: one about Maria, the peasant Greek girl born in 1923 in New York City (her mom was pregnant on the voyage from Europe to America); the other of Callas, the diva who brought artistic drama to new heights with a voice at once criticized and idolized.

I had some CDs on while I was reading the final pages and, almost on cue, when the last sentence in the book came to an end, Yo Yo Ma ended and Joni Mitchell began.

Joni Mitchell’s Blue, released in 1971, is not a happy album, but, god, it’s a beautifully crafted, arranged and sung work of art.  And I come back to it time and again. For various reasons.  Not the least of which is that because, although with no musical talent of my own, except the great gift of appreciation, music has been such an important part of my life.

I remember and identify friends and relationships with certain songs from a certain time; think of live performances I’ve seen (Andres Segovia, The Grateful Dead, Jackson Browne, Luciano Pavarotti); and occasionally drift back to nights long past when rain plunked down on the roof and the radio on my bedside table pulsed out songs from distant places.

But before I drift too far, back to Joni and Maria. Read the Callas biography if you can track it down. It’s a fascinating read even if you don’t like opera. Or listen to one of her recordings. And give Joni a spin if you haven’t in a while.  Beautiful music from beautiful women.