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pottedplnt 's review for:
The Bees
by Laline Paull
In the era of Covid 19, it’s not hard to imagine yourself alone, 3:16am in your dining room, rigorously investigating the scientific word for a bee aficionado. Down the rabbit hole of google, you twist and turn, trying to make in-congruent pieces fit with scraps of information and poorly coded bee blogs. You have one simple task: to find a special, latin word for a bee lover, a lovely label for the humble appreciator of the most noble bug.
The name Melissa comes from a hittite word. And melittologists are etymologists that specialize in bees. You would think you can combine “melitt” and “philia” and get a gorgeous new epitaph. Melittphilia if you will. However, your rudimentary high school ancient attic did not prepare you to surgically mutilate fields far beyond your chosen degree. So you scrap that idea and return to your newest, most prized possession. Better than two-ply toilet paper and instant ramen is the Bees by Laline Paull. It’s the book that radicalized you, the book that took you in at your darkest 24 hours, provided you with warm food and an octagonal shelter, putting the chaos and confusion of 2020 on pause. This book is an journey and transformation on par with Madeline Miller’s Circe.
I present to you the book I read on my last Thursday in my University dorm, the book that deftly transported me away from presidential primaries, racial violence, and Virus a la Corona.
This book made me temporarily obsessed. It successfully got my mind off of the pandemic looming.
Because of The Bees. I made honey cakes. I seriously looked up bee keeping as a hobby. I questioned my humanities major.
I understand all those activities are due to a base level of security I enjoy. The social distancing protocols of Covid 19 negatively impacts vulnerable, insecure populations and additionally endangers previously stable households. In that chaos, The Bees won’t give back your job or restore health. But it will gift some merciful hours of calm and brilliant turns of phrase. Paull’s descriptions give chills. I 100% have a favorite line.
P.s. Apiology is the study of honey bees
The name Melissa comes from a hittite word. And melittologists are etymologists that specialize in bees. You would think you can combine “melitt” and “philia” and get a gorgeous new epitaph. Melittphilia if you will. However, your rudimentary high school ancient attic did not prepare you to surgically mutilate fields far beyond your chosen degree. So you scrap that idea and return to your newest, most prized possession. Better than two-ply toilet paper and instant ramen is the Bees by Laline Paull. It’s the book that radicalized you, the book that took you in at your darkest 24 hours, provided you with warm food and an octagonal shelter, putting the chaos and confusion of 2020 on pause. This book is an journey and transformation on par with Madeline Miller’s Circe.
I present to you the book I read on my last Thursday in my University dorm, the book that deftly transported me away from presidential primaries, racial violence, and Virus a la Corona.
This book made me temporarily obsessed. It successfully got my mind off of the pandemic looming.
Because of The Bees. I made honey cakes. I seriously looked up bee keeping as a hobby. I questioned my humanities major.
I understand all those activities are due to a base level of security I enjoy. The social distancing protocols of Covid 19 negatively impacts vulnerable, insecure populations and additionally endangers previously stable households. In that chaos, The Bees won’t give back your job or restore health. But it will gift some merciful hours of calm and brilliant turns of phrase. Paull’s descriptions give chills. I 100% have a favorite line.
P.s. Apiology is the study of honey bees