The Murmur of Bees by Sofía Segovia
Title: The Murmur of Bees
Author: Sofía Segovia
Translator: Simon Bruni
Published: 2015
Type: Fiction
Pages: 461
Once again, I haven’t been as good as I’d like to be at keeping up with this blog. Some personal things came up this summer, and I just didn’t have the energy or mental/emotional capacity to write.
But, I’m back! Or at least I’m trying to be. I’m traveling quite a bit in the next couple of weeks so I can't promise that I’ll catch up immediately, but I’ll do my best. I’ve been keeping track of my favorite books I’ve read the last couple of months, and am excited to share my thoughts! Starting with this lovely book by Sofia Segovia, recommended by my lovely Mama.
At my age, one realizes that time is a cruel and fickle master, for the more you want it, the faster it appears to vanish, and vice versa: the more you want to escape it, the more stagnant it becomes. We are its slaves – or its puppets, if you prefer – and it moves or paralyzes us at its whim… Let me tell you what I know, what I’ve concluded: it doesn’t matter whether time passes slowly or quickly. What you can be sure of is that, in the end, all you want is to have more.
In Brief:
A gentle, magical book, reminiscent of Gabriel Garcia Marquez (though less magic, more history of 20th century Mexico). Lovely, with themes touching on family, brotherhood, and resilience.
Rating: 4.2
Plot Summary:
Set in the early 1900s Linares, Mexico, The Murmur of Bees revolves around the Morales family and their household. Our story kicks off when the ancient Nana Reja discovers an abandoned baby under a bridge, blanketed in bees and disfigured in his face. Some see him as cursed and think he should be killed right away, but the Morales family, who are wealthy landowners, take him in and raise him as a godchild.
Named Simonopio, the baby grows into a gifted child. Though he cannot speak, he is deeply in touch with nature – followed constantly by a swarm of bees, able to sense danger and see visions of the future. Simonopio dedicates his life and skills to protect his adopted family, especially the boy Francisco (also our narrator), as they experience incredible events such as the Mexican Revolution, Agrarian Reform, and the devastating Spanish Flu epidemic.
Where I’m At:
I read this book back in April, and the most striking comparison, unsurprisingly, was the
Spanish Flu epidemic/Coronavirus pandemic. What particularly stood out was the class aspect – the way that the Linares family could flee to safety felt uncomfortably familiar to the way that primarily wealthier, white-collar people could easily just work from home. Or from Hawaii. Meanwhile – well, we know what happened meanwhile. Segovia shows it in the book, breaking from the Morales focus to write about the suffering and hopelessness of the town they left behind. It just reminded me of the stark contrast of my experience of the pandemic, compared to many others who were put at risk.
I feel like there was a narrative of “We’re All In This Together,” especially as the pandemic was at its peak, but of course, that’s never really been true. (Cynical, I know)
Getting Into it:
The Murmur of Bees can be described as magical realism, and though there is some magic in Simonopio’s gifts, most of it really comes from Segovia’s enchanting words. She gives rich descriptions, lushly describes both the characters and the settings, so that everything feels alive. The magic is subtle but pervasive, giving the book the feeling of a fairytale.
All the years on the rocking chair caused the townspeople to forget [Nana Reja’s] story and her humanity: she had become part of the scenery, put roots down into the earth she rocked upon. Her flesh had become wood and her skin a hard, dark, furrowed bark.
As part of its essence, the house also preserved the laughter and games of its children, the scolding and slamming of doors, past and present. The loose tile my grandfather and his twenty-two siblings trod with their bare feet and my father trod in his childhood was the same one I trod as a boy. That tile was a betrayer of mischief, for with its inevitable clunk, the mother of the time would be alerted to whatever plan her offspring had hatched. The house beams creaked for no apparent reason, the doors squeaked, the shutters banged rhythmically against the wall even when there was no wind.
The structure also adds to the fairy tale vibe. Though most of the book is told in the third person with shifting perspectives, it’s interspersed with chapters written in the first person, where the narrator Francisco addresses the reader directly. Technically he’s talking to a taxi driver who stands in as our proxy, but the effect is like being tucked in with a bedtime story.
More than that, Segovia creates beautifully realized characters, at once perfect archetypes and perfectly relatable. Our hero, Simonopio, is loving and pure of heart, devoted to his family yet free-spirited, with an air of mystery. Yet, he’s also just a boy, becoming distracted and curious by a show in town just when his family needs him the most.
Our villain is Anselmo Espiricueta, a sharecropper on the Morales family’s land. In some ways, he is just evil – he advocates for killing Simonopio as a baby, beats his family, is full of chilling darkness and rage. Yet, going back to the issue of class, he’s also trapped in a system that will keep him poor and reliant on the Morales family, with no hope of advancement for himself or his family.
The main criticism that I have of The Murmur of Bees is that it’s very slow, and I sometimes had a hard time feeling motivated to keep picking it up when I was in the middle. But even with that said, it felt necessary – the book is both expansive and immersive. The slow pace gives room for Segovia to really go into details and nuance; there are explorations of grief, love, family, memory, and healing; the beautiful prose makes reading as luxurious as dripping honey.
