28 January 2008 HONEYBEE by Naomi Shihab Nye, Greenwillow, March 2008, 176p., ISBN: 978-0-06-085590-7; Libr. ISBN: 978-0-06-085591-4

Bees Were Better

"In college people were always breaking up.

We broke up in parking lots,

beside fountains.

Two people broke up

across the table from me

at the library.

I could not sit at that table again

though I did not know them.

I studied bees, who were able

to convey messages through dancing

and could find their ways

home to their hives

even if someone put up a blockade of sheets

and boards and wire.

Bees had radar in their wings and brains

that humans could barely understand.

I wrote a paper proclaiming

their brilliance and superiority

and revised it at a small cafe

featuring wooden hive-shaped honey dippers

in silver honeypots

on every table."

Part of me feels as though I should include a disclaimer when I write about a new book by Naomi, but that is silly -- she is not really my cousin; it just feels that way, having been lucky enough over the years to spend tiny bits of time around her and receive the occasional note that always carries with it a peacefulness like that which I experience upon reading correspondence from Tony, my eldest cousin on my Sicilian side. As I've written previously, Naomi is a fellow Piscian and fellow vegetarian whom I've seen deftly transform a cardboard convention center room into a sacred space with simply a basket of pita, a bowl of hummus, and a book of poetry.

I read and admire a lot of poetry for children and adolescents. I am quite often entertained by it and always share it at booktalks -- including some pieces I first read as a child.

I find something so special in getting to spend an afternoon reading Naomi's work.

HONEYBEE is Naomi's new collection of poetry. Each of the eighty-two poems has a wonderful personal quality; the collection reads as if it is a series of notes in various poetic forms that she has written to the reader.

"...My niece in Australia told me that the students in her university class were required to read the blog of an Iraqi citizen and write about it before they could graduate. She chose a girl who is now fifteen writing under the pseudonym Sunshine. I began reading Sunshine's blog too. I love the way she writes about the details of her life-her friends, the books she is reading, her activities and memories. Life is so difficult since the war started, but still she ends her entries with lines like, 'Try not to lose hope.' She wishes she could live the way kids in other countries live, without so much constant violence surrounding them. Sunshine has become my personal hero, drinking deeply out of the moments. So much is passing so fast..."

This is a bittersweet collection, as Naomi is clearly feeling the pain -- like so many of us -- that continues to be the product of five years of war and war spending. It is also a collection that repeatedly alludes to bees and to the mysterious and well-publicized disappearance of a lot of honeybees in a very short time:

"All the theories about the disappearing bees omit one possibility: they are sick of the word 'busy.' They are on strike. Sure this cycling and collecting and producing is what they've done for so long...worker and queen and drone...blossom and hive and comb... but the last thing the bees want stuck in their pollen baskets is a cliche. Busy? Not I. We can't even know if they adore the fragrances of flowers...but they must, right? Let's hope so. Let's hope there's pleasure in it.

In France, some teenagers asked me, 'Is it true, in your country, students don't take time to sit down and drink tea and eat pie upon return from school?'

Eat pie? This was hard to answer.

'I hope they eat pie,' I said. We all need pie.'

Then I started looking for a restaurant that served pie..."

I, myself, headed for the funky little cafe in Sebastopol where my teenage daughter works after school. I spent the afternoon there, with Rosemary bringing me iced herbal tea and little vegetable sandwiches, and Naomi talking to me through her book, bringing me up to date on her life and observations as one of our most treasured poets.

"And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in."

I highly recommend that you find a nice place to spend an afternoon and experience HONEYBEE.

Richie Partington, MLIS

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