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Blind Huber
Award-winning poet Nick Flynn takes readers into the dangerous and irresistible center of the hive
I sit in a body & think of a body, I picture
Burnens' hands, my words
make them move. I say, plunge them into the hive,
& his hands go in.
—from "Blind Huber"
Blindness does not deter François Huber—the eighteenth-century beekeeper—in his quest to learn about bees through their behavior. Through an odd, but productive arrangement, Huber's assistant Burnens becomes his eyes, his narrator as he goes about his work. In Nick Flynn's extraordinary new collection, Huber and Burnens speak and so do the bees. The strongest virgin waits silently to kill the other virgins; drones are "made of waiting"; the swarm attempts to protect the queen. It is a cruel existence. Everyone sacrifices for the sweet honey, except the human hand that harvests it all in a single afternoon.
Blind Huber is about the body, love, and devotion and also about the limits of what can be known and what will forever be unknown. Nick Flynn's bees and keepers—sometimes in a state of magnificent pollen-drunk dizziness—view the world from a striking and daring perspective.
I sit in a body & think of a body, I picture
Burnens' hands, my words
make them move. I say, plunge them into the hive,
& his hands go in.
—from "Blind Huber"
Blindness does not deter François Huber—the eighteenth-century beekeeper—in his quest to learn about bees through their behavior. Through an odd, but productive arrangement, Huber's assistant Burnens becomes his eyes, his narrator as he goes about his work. In Nick Flynn's extraordinary new collection, Huber and Burnens speak and so do the bees. The strongest virgin waits silently to kill the other virgins; drones are "made of waiting"; the swarm attempts to protect the queen. It is a cruel existence. Everyone sacrifices for the sweet honey, except the human hand that harvests it all in a single afternoon.
Blind Huber is about the body, love, and devotion and also about the limits of what can be known and what will forever be unknown. Nick Flynn's bees and keepers—sometimes in a state of magnificent pollen-drunk dizziness—view the world from a striking and daring perspective.
89 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2002
7 people are currently reading
359 people want to read
About the author
Nick Flynn
53 books386 followersNick Flynn is an American writer, playwright, and poet.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name. See this thread for more information.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 47 reviews
May 27, 2018
...You try
to hold the ending, this
unspooling, make it either
zero or many, lack
or flurry. I was born,
you begin, & already each word
makes you smaller.
That Nick Flynn is my fantasy poet boyfriend has already been established here on Goodreads, but Blind Huber, his poetry collection about a blind eighteenth-century beekeeper, was the only book of his I hadn't read, because, I mean, what? A poetry collection about a blind eighteenth-century beekeeper?!? But I'm very glad I finally got around to it, because this was fantastic, possibly my favorite of his four collections. The poems are from the point of view of Francois Huber (the titular beekeeper), his assistant Burnens, and the bees themselves. Odd as this may sound, the framework actually makes these poems highly accessible. And Nick Flynn's abundant talent makes them unspeakably beautiful.
to hold the ending, this
unspooling, make it either
zero or many, lack
or flurry. I was born,
you begin, & already each word
makes you smaller.
That Nick Flynn is my fantasy poet boyfriend has already been established here on Goodreads, but Blind Huber, his poetry collection about a blind eighteenth-century beekeeper, was the only book of his I hadn't read, because, I mean, what? A poetry collection about a blind eighteenth-century beekeeper?!? But I'm very glad I finally got around to it, because this was fantastic, possibly my favorite of his four collections. The poems are from the point of view of Francois Huber (the titular beekeeper), his assistant Burnens, and the bees themselves. Odd as this may sound, the framework actually makes these poems highly accessible. And Nick Flynn's abundant talent makes them unspeakably beautiful.
Read
July 4, 2018Massachusetts poet Nick Flynn lets us in on life as a Queen bee, as a drone, a worker, etc. Bee terminology married to poetry.
And many of the poems are named "Huber," after the 18th-Century French beekeeper (he was blind) who taught us everything you don't know about bees. Sweet!
If you are of an entomological-bent, this is a find. If you are a beekeeper who loves honey, a bigger find still. Here are a few examples of the sting and the sweetness:
Workers (robbers)
Your queen stares blank & im-
mobile, her brood thick
with maggot
& mite. Wings &
scat litter the entrance, you
no longer carry your dead
away. The guards let us
pass, unaware who belongs & who
doesn't. Simply
part of the dismantling,
we bite
holes big enough for our
tongues
& drink each cell dry. Tonight
a possum
will reach a paw in & pull the
rest of you out.
You must be like
candy to them, cracked open, soft
bodies filled with honey.
Melitopoles
When a warrior falls in battle,
beloved &
far from home, the melitopoles
sell their finest grade
to suspend this vanquished corpse in honey.
Thus his body will cease
to decay, will last the road
back. Seal him behind glass
& you could gaze upon
his unchanged face, tinted
amber, but glass
will not survive such portage. Even honey
cannot hold him forever,
his mouth forced open, shocked
eyes, every pore
now filled with sweetness.
And many of the poems are named "Huber," after the 18th-Century French beekeeper (he was blind) who taught us everything you don't know about bees. Sweet!
If you are of an entomological-bent, this is a find. If you are a beekeeper who loves honey, a bigger find still. Here are a few examples of the sting and the sweetness:
Workers (robbers)
Your queen stares blank & im-
mobile, her brood thick
with maggot
& mite. Wings &
scat litter the entrance, you
no longer carry your dead
away. The guards let us
pass, unaware who belongs & who
doesn't. Simply
part of the dismantling,
we bite
holes big enough for our
tongues
& drink each cell dry. Tonight
a possum
will reach a paw in & pull the
rest of you out.
You must be like
candy to them, cracked open, soft
bodies filled with honey.
Melitopoles
When a warrior falls in battle,
beloved &
far from home, the melitopoles
sell their finest grade
to suspend this vanquished corpse in honey.
Thus his body will cease
to decay, will last the road
back. Seal him behind glass
& you could gaze upon
his unchanged face, tinted
amber, but glass
will not survive such portage. Even honey
cannot hold him forever,
his mouth forced open, shocked
eyes, every pore
now filled with sweetness.
Read
July 21, 2009This is a good example of books that frustrate me. When I was applying to MA/MFA programs three years ago it seemed Flynn was all over the place, the publishing index at the end of this book seems to affirm this. I was excited by his youth and acclaim. Yet now, with a more nuanced relationship to verse, this book comes off as shallow, easy, the epitome of quietude. I say this knowing that there will be much resistance to this description. But let's examine the post script in particular for its troubling qualities: "Conjecture, text fragments and carbon dating suggest the rise of human civilization coinciding with the rise of bee-culture. Entire libraries, it is said, were devoted to the study of the honeybee, though most of these libraries were burnt and plundered, along with the rest of the ancient world, and the knowledge lost." In essence the entire premise of this book, the metaphor of bee culture and human culture rising and falling and rising like so many queens, is a history linked oh so unsecurely by "CONJECTURE...IT IS SAID...[& the burning & plundering:] OF [THE ENTIRE!!!!:] ANCIENT WORLD", translates to a subjective perspective stated as fact for the exploration of verse. I have no problem with this exploration in principle, but to then dangle it like fact as some sort of pseudo-theoretical concept that is supposed to inform the 80 pages of verse and then slap it at the end of book thus forming a statement that there is more merit here than the first reading provides is Blind Hubris. There's nothing here except the distance of judeo-christian white suburbia lineating a single opaque metaphor with brief allusions to family/social tensions, it's hard to tell if you're actually part of a supporting structure of the hive or just a slave to its demands. As Flynn states: "None of the / / rooms connect, except by months, his room / / / a jar, clear as air." He wants to be the isolated lyric individual and can't see that there's no glass but the glass he pretends is there. With time("months") one can hope that this "invisibility" disappears, though it's books like this that make me doubt American poetry's ability to ascend this issue. Just fucking stand up and say something already, let's stop this "bee-dancing" around, and thus avoiding, any subject at all.
November 18, 2008
For me, this book of poems didn't quite live up to its concept. The idea here, of having a collection of poems centered not only on the life of bees, but at the same time on the life of the blind beekeeper/scientist is original and interesting. Unfortunately, I never felt as engaged with the actual poems as I expected.
In the first poem, we meet the title character himself, who says:
my eyes now more like their eyes,
morning filtered beyond translucence
I think this is an apt description of the poems in this book, which do seem to be filtered through a waxy lens, creating visions that are beautiful but seldom sharp.
There are splendid lines throughout this book, and some of the poems do exude a quiet grace that is endearing, but overall, the collection lacks spark.
from Workers (attendants):
...All winter
we huddled around her, kept her
warm. Those on the outside, those
farthest from her, died
first, their legs
gripped the others like a shawl.
As a work of descriptive lyricism, this collection is lovely. But in the end, it did not open my eyes or my heart, did not make me sit up and see the world in a new or different way. Blind Huber is an enjoyable, pleasant read. I only wish that Flynn had pushed both himself and his readers beyond their comfort zones. If he had, this might have been a work of great poetry and revelation.
In the first poem, we meet the title character himself, who says:
my eyes now more like their eyes,
morning filtered beyond translucence
I think this is an apt description of the poems in this book, which do seem to be filtered through a waxy lens, creating visions that are beautiful but seldom sharp.
There are splendid lines throughout this book, and some of the poems do exude a quiet grace that is endearing, but overall, the collection lacks spark.
from Workers (attendants):
...All winter
we huddled around her, kept her
warm. Those on the outside, those
farthest from her, died
first, their legs
gripped the others like a shawl.
As a work of descriptive lyricism, this collection is lovely. But in the end, it did not open my eyes or my heart, did not make me sit up and see the world in a new or different way. Blind Huber is an enjoyable, pleasant read. I only wish that Flynn had pushed both himself and his readers beyond their comfort zones. If he had, this might have been a work of great poetry and revelation.
January 10, 2011
Sorry, honey. I just don't see what the buzz is all about.
January 12, 2008
Dull dud. What's the big deal?
"When you see us swarm -- rustle of
wingbeat, collapsed air -- your mind
tries to make us one"
"When you see us swarm -- rustle of
wingbeat, collapsed air -- your mind
tries to make us one"
September 1, 2015
Lovely, lovely--the small world of the hive made huge.
December 19, 2017
quick & lovely but tf is good w these line breaks
December 16, 2018
3.5-ish. I prefer nick Flynn's more personal work, and I'm not sure I liked the decision to save contextual info for the end. But I liked the poems--nick Flynn's poems are irresistible.
May 1, 2020
What would you do inside me?
You would be utterly
lost, labyrinthine
comb, each corridor identical, a
funhouse, there, a bridge, worker
knit to worker, a span
you can’t cross.
Hive
Referencing the biography and work of the blind melittologist Francoise Huber, Nick Flynn’s Blind Huber is a four-part poem about bees. I expected a poetic work with the spirit of Lewis Thomas, someone who would construct beautiful, memorable verse articulating universal truths culled from the observation of bees. Rather, Flynn consulted Wikipedia, maybe a biography and a couple of letters by Huber, and wrote this quartet. There’s no esoteric scholarship employed, no specific vocabulary regarding bees where you have to consult scholarly journals to fully understand a metaphor. Flynn is not out to versify apicology; rather, he examines communication and community. In the end, Blind Huber provides universal truths culled from the observation of bees, but the verse itself is not as beautiful as I had hoped.
Each short poem is part of the whole. While none of the individual poems really stand out, collectively they create a beguiling scheme. That’s right: like a bee hive, the product is in the collective labor of multiple units. The continual narratives of worker bees, Queen bees, Huber and his assistant Burnens propel the verse forward; the interplay between them yields rich insight into what is means to be part of a community, what is means to investigate a complex world with senses other than sight.
I was frustrated during my initial reading because the poetry itself—the actual arrangement of lines on the page—seemed rather simplistic and, at times, even insipid. Many of the narratives seemed too abstract and lacked emotional resonance. Reflecting and rereading it for this commentary after the images of the poem incubated in my mind, however, the merits of this work became more apparent and I changed my opinion. On my second tour, I enjoyed Flynn’s funhouse more, moving from comb to comb while Blind Huber and Burnens try to understand this alien existence. While not the best collection of poems I have ever read, it’s certainly one of the most thoughtful.
You would be utterly
lost, labyrinthine
comb, each corridor identical, a
funhouse, there, a bridge, worker
knit to worker, a span
you can’t cross.
Hive
Referencing the biography and work of the blind melittologist Francoise Huber, Nick Flynn’s Blind Huber is a four-part poem about bees. I expected a poetic work with the spirit of Lewis Thomas, someone who would construct beautiful, memorable verse articulating universal truths culled from the observation of bees. Rather, Flynn consulted Wikipedia, maybe a biography and a couple of letters by Huber, and wrote this quartet. There’s no esoteric scholarship employed, no specific vocabulary regarding bees where you have to consult scholarly journals to fully understand a metaphor. Flynn is not out to versify apicology; rather, he examines communication and community. In the end, Blind Huber provides universal truths culled from the observation of bees, but the verse itself is not as beautiful as I had hoped.
Each short poem is part of the whole. While none of the individual poems really stand out, collectively they create a beguiling scheme. That’s right: like a bee hive, the product is in the collective labor of multiple units. The continual narratives of worker bees, Queen bees, Huber and his assistant Burnens propel the verse forward; the interplay between them yields rich insight into what is means to be part of a community, what is means to investigate a complex world with senses other than sight.
I was frustrated during my initial reading because the poetry itself—the actual arrangement of lines on the page—seemed rather simplistic and, at times, even insipid. Many of the narratives seemed too abstract and lacked emotional resonance. Reflecting and rereading it for this commentary after the images of the poem incubated in my mind, however, the merits of this work became more apparent and I changed my opinion. On my second tour, I enjoyed Flynn’s funhouse more, moving from comb to comb while Blind Huber and Burnens try to understand this alien existence. While not the best collection of poems I have ever read, it’s certainly one of the most thoughtful.
January 6, 2025
“In your book / we swarm a house, surround / a boy as he sleeps & lift him, only to set him down / unharmed. You saw us / lift your own son, hang his body / above your head— still / you need a prophet / to tell you what it means.”
Just read this one front to back twice, and still get the sense there’s more I’m missing. Flynn’s early work is sometimes harder to decipher for me compared to his more recent things— he’s less explicit, but still sharp and weeping with meaning. Blind Huber’s meditations on what it means to live, what it means to die, what it means to survive, and give, and, perhaps most importantly, take— they’re all profoundly touching in ways I cannot yet name.
This early line sticks out to me; “How do you live / with this distance? I have you, she / thinks, or, I know you, / but she can never say, I am you.”
To be part of the hive is to be part of something— the universe, or home, or other. And to be trapped outside, with hands only capable of plunging in— what does that say of humanity?
“Nothing / to return to, the queen dead, I / pressed against her until her eyes / hung empty. Afterwards, / the hive full of strangers, / none remained precisely me, none / I would die for.”
Just read this one front to back twice, and still get the sense there’s more I’m missing. Flynn’s early work is sometimes harder to decipher for me compared to his more recent things— he’s less explicit, but still sharp and weeping with meaning. Blind Huber’s meditations on what it means to live, what it means to die, what it means to survive, and give, and, perhaps most importantly, take— they’re all profoundly touching in ways I cannot yet name.
This early line sticks out to me; “How do you live / with this distance? I have you, she / thinks, or, I know you, / but she can never say, I am you.”
To be part of the hive is to be part of something— the universe, or home, or other. And to be trapped outside, with hands only capable of plunging in— what does that say of humanity?
“Nothing / to return to, the queen dead, I / pressed against her until her eyes / hung empty. Afterwards, / the hive full of strangers, / none remained precisely me, none / I would die for.”
October 25, 2019
an absolutely stunning collection. Flynn's word choice is seductive, perfect and wretched. As a lover of bees from afar, I enjoyed every bit, especially the uncredited history of the very naturalists that discovered the life inside the hive.
January 24, 2019
Save the bees.
October 5, 2011
Nick Flynn has the whole world buzzing for Blind Huber the beekeeper!
Nick Flynn
Blind Huber
Graywolf Press, 2002
Due to Nick Flynn’s success with his first poetry collection Some Ether Nick Flynn had to come back even harder and soar higher than ever before. Well , Blind Huber packs a sting and flies high as a story unravels about a blind French beekeeper and the intricacies of the beehive. At first, this collection of poems seems to be about the thoughts of a beekeeper and the happenings of the inside of a beehive but, Nick Flynn takes it up a notch and ties this beautifully portrayed tale with contemplations on humanity, love, the body, nature, and devotion. Each poem is a story of a story and with each story the reader becomes more enraptured with the tales of these bees and the weary, old blind keeper.
As an established poet Nick Flynn has had experience with creating meaningful poems, and many other poets have as well. But, what separates Flynn from most poets today is that he finds meaning in the most unique situations.
Blind Huber starts off with a poem narrated by Blind Huber himself. Immediately the reader is thrown into the perspective of this old, blind beekeeper and simultaneously enters the world of the bees. Nick Flynn continues with poems on Blind Huber throughout the book to create this wondrous, contemplative character and show a human approach to the whole situation that is unfolding. Blind Huber finds himself meditating on his profession and says, “I sit in a body and think of a body… think of a hive, each bee, each thought, the hive brims with thought.”
After his first Blind Huber poem, Nick Flynn continues with poems on specific qualities of bee life. He shares with us a poem on the worker bees, drones, the Virgin Queen, the geometry of the Beehive, Wax, and other intangible qualities that present themselves in this gooey, bittersweet story. Each poem is told by the bees themselves and with this interesting narrative Flynn gives the bees a voice that explains the laws of nature and the marvels of life. One poem on the Queen presents the relationship between bees and humans. “Net suit & smoking cup, you reek fear. If we fight back/ you seek me out with gloved fingers to crush my head.” These few lines at the beginning of the poem really pack a punch at humanity and it’s ignorance. The reader finds him/herself drowned in sympathy for the bees and in contemplation with Blind Huber.
Another perspective presents itself far into the book and is the perspective of none other than Blind Huber’s assistant Burnens. Burnens is the loyal assistant who does most of the manual labor and whose poems are more of a reflection of that labor and his relationship with Huber and the bees. This approach helps to connect the reader with someone other than Huber and the thoughts of the bees. The first Burnens poem portrays Burnens and Huber’s relationship in a unique way. “His words move my hands, but I name what is seen.”
Although this story takes a look inward, the general story that presents itself is the bees fight for survival under the tyranny of beekeepers.
Nick Flynn is a master of storytelling through poetry and even if you’re not a fan of bees there is something for everyone in this riveting tale. This book is a must read for any lover of poetry and any lover of creativity.
Nick Flynn
Blind Huber
Graywolf Press, 2002
Due to Nick Flynn’s success with his first poetry collection Some Ether Nick Flynn had to come back even harder and soar higher than ever before. Well , Blind Huber packs a sting and flies high as a story unravels about a blind French beekeeper and the intricacies of the beehive. At first, this collection of poems seems to be about the thoughts of a beekeeper and the happenings of the inside of a beehive but, Nick Flynn takes it up a notch and ties this beautifully portrayed tale with contemplations on humanity, love, the body, nature, and devotion. Each poem is a story of a story and with each story the reader becomes more enraptured with the tales of these bees and the weary, old blind keeper.
As an established poet Nick Flynn has had experience with creating meaningful poems, and many other poets have as well. But, what separates Flynn from most poets today is that he finds meaning in the most unique situations.
Blind Huber starts off with a poem narrated by Blind Huber himself. Immediately the reader is thrown into the perspective of this old, blind beekeeper and simultaneously enters the world of the bees. Nick Flynn continues with poems on Blind Huber throughout the book to create this wondrous, contemplative character and show a human approach to the whole situation that is unfolding. Blind Huber finds himself meditating on his profession and says, “I sit in a body and think of a body… think of a hive, each bee, each thought, the hive brims with thought.”
After his first Blind Huber poem, Nick Flynn continues with poems on specific qualities of bee life. He shares with us a poem on the worker bees, drones, the Virgin Queen, the geometry of the Beehive, Wax, and other intangible qualities that present themselves in this gooey, bittersweet story. Each poem is told by the bees themselves and with this interesting narrative Flynn gives the bees a voice that explains the laws of nature and the marvels of life. One poem on the Queen presents the relationship between bees and humans. “Net suit & smoking cup, you reek fear. If we fight back/ you seek me out with gloved fingers to crush my head.” These few lines at the beginning of the poem really pack a punch at humanity and it’s ignorance. The reader finds him/herself drowned in sympathy for the bees and in contemplation with Blind Huber.
Another perspective presents itself far into the book and is the perspective of none other than Blind Huber’s assistant Burnens. Burnens is the loyal assistant who does most of the manual labor and whose poems are more of a reflection of that labor and his relationship with Huber and the bees. This approach helps to connect the reader with someone other than Huber and the thoughts of the bees. The first Burnens poem portrays Burnens and Huber’s relationship in a unique way. “His words move my hands, but I name what is seen.”
Although this story takes a look inward, the general story that presents itself is the bees fight for survival under the tyranny of beekeepers.
Nick Flynn is a master of storytelling through poetry and even if you’re not a fan of bees there is something for everyone in this riveting tale. This book is a must read for any lover of poetry and any lover of creativity.
July 6, 2016
Find the review here: http://meghan-barrett.com
Every week a science book, play, article, etc. will 'bee' reviewed (I admit, as an entomologist, that I may use a few too many insect puns). This week's selection is appropriately themed for the first 'Bee Reviewed' post ever - a book of poetry entitled Blind Huber by Nick Flynn.
I originally reviewed this book as part of NaRMo - National Reviewing Month, which occurs in February and is run by my undergraduate institution.
Blind Huber is a poetic masterpiece that brings to life the distinct harmony of Huber, a blind, elderly French beekeeper from a different century, and swarms of honeybees. There is an absolute obsession written into this collection of poems, as Huber observes and speaks with the bees; through him, Flynn comments on the fierceness that underpins all of life. Flynn gives us bees that meditate on love, devotion, knowledge, individuality v. uniformity and more; bees that drink deep of the natural world and show us both the pleasure and the pain of life’s commanding beauty. Huber, while the title character, often takes a backseat to the bees in this collection and yet his story is so inextricably tied to that of the hive that even when he is not in the poem, he is present. The collection is thought-provoking and, at times, depressing as it ruminates on the distorted pallor of death as seen through the eyes of various hive-mates; this book is, in a very visceral way, also about how we see what we see. Huber was a deliberate choice for the beekeeper; while being a pioneer in hive observations, his blindness has a significant impact on his relationship with and trust of the bees and lends itself to seeing all of the collection’s various meditations through a different lens than the societal norm.
While a love of bees is certainly a positive thing to bring to this collection, a reader does not need any biological understanding of eusocial insects to enjoy the sweetness of this collection which is remarkably accurate while still remaining powerful and emotive. I enjoyed the poems "Paper Wasp" and "Worker (lost)" in particular. "Paper Wasp" was first published in the New England Review in 2002, and contains the lines:
"All this time/we've been building beside you...fragments of your barn, paint/chewed to pulp. Everything/passes through us, transformed."
"Worker (lost)" was first published by Tin House and contains the following lines:
"the hive full of strangers,/none remained precisely me, none/ I would die for."
Flynn covers reproduction, haplodiploidy, royal jelly, and more but in such a magnificent way I am sure that both entomologists and literary citizens with no 'bug background' to speak of could enjoy this delightful collection.
Every week a science book, play, article, etc. will 'bee' reviewed (I admit, as an entomologist, that I may use a few too many insect puns). This week's selection is appropriately themed for the first 'Bee Reviewed' post ever - a book of poetry entitled Blind Huber by Nick Flynn.
I originally reviewed this book as part of NaRMo - National Reviewing Month, which occurs in February and is run by my undergraduate institution.
Blind Huber is a poetic masterpiece that brings to life the distinct harmony of Huber, a blind, elderly French beekeeper from a different century, and swarms of honeybees. There is an absolute obsession written into this collection of poems, as Huber observes and speaks with the bees; through him, Flynn comments on the fierceness that underpins all of life. Flynn gives us bees that meditate on love, devotion, knowledge, individuality v. uniformity and more; bees that drink deep of the natural world and show us both the pleasure and the pain of life’s commanding beauty. Huber, while the title character, often takes a backseat to the bees in this collection and yet his story is so inextricably tied to that of the hive that even when he is not in the poem, he is present. The collection is thought-provoking and, at times, depressing as it ruminates on the distorted pallor of death as seen through the eyes of various hive-mates; this book is, in a very visceral way, also about how we see what we see. Huber was a deliberate choice for the beekeeper; while being a pioneer in hive observations, his blindness has a significant impact on his relationship with and trust of the bees and lends itself to seeing all of the collection’s various meditations through a different lens than the societal norm.
While a love of bees is certainly a positive thing to bring to this collection, a reader does not need any biological understanding of eusocial insects to enjoy the sweetness of this collection which is remarkably accurate while still remaining powerful and emotive. I enjoyed the poems "Paper Wasp" and "Worker (lost)" in particular. "Paper Wasp" was first published in the New England Review in 2002, and contains the lines:
"All this time/we've been building beside you...fragments of your barn, paint/chewed to pulp. Everything/passes through us, transformed."
"Worker (lost)" was first published by Tin House and contains the following lines:
"the hive full of strangers,/none remained precisely me, none/ I would die for."
Flynn covers reproduction, haplodiploidy, royal jelly, and more but in such a magnificent way I am sure that both entomologists and literary citizens with no 'bug background' to speak of could enjoy this delightful collection.
Read
January 26, 2018I had been meaning to read Nick’s second book since I first heard him read some poems from it. His first book, “Some Ether,” really affected me deeply -- in a visceral and aesthetic way, the difference between the two being that I felt with the book as I admired its craft. This doesn’t happen often for me -- usually one or the other (head or heart) dominates my experience. Here, both were in concert.
I think what I admire most about the book is its spareness. Flynn takes on a subject with layers upon layers of history -- beekeping, honey -- and the life of a fascinating man -- Huber, who chronicled much of what we know now about bees. These are both weighty subject, and yet the poems are airy and sparse. They are short, for the most part. Allusive. Densely imagistic, yet with the push of narrative behind them always. I tend to be such a wordy writer, such a cataloguer, afraid of leaving any important detail out, yet here is a model that works and works against that impulse.
I just finished my first read-through this morning and plan on re-reading it again today. It grows. It doesn’t hurt that his subject is a wonderfully-chosen one for success. How do we choose our subjects? How does obsession get channeled into a timely art?
I think what I admire most about the book is its spareness. Flynn takes on a subject with layers upon layers of history -- beekeping, honey -- and the life of a fascinating man -- Huber, who chronicled much of what we know now about bees. These are both weighty subject, and yet the poems are airy and sparse. They are short, for the most part. Allusive. Densely imagistic, yet with the push of narrative behind them always. I tend to be such a wordy writer, such a cataloguer, afraid of leaving any important detail out, yet here is a model that works and works against that impulse.
I just finished my first read-through this morning and plan on re-reading it again today. It grows. It doesn’t hurt that his subject is a wonderfully-chosen one for success. How do we choose our subjects? How does obsession get channeled into a timely art?
January 29, 2009
This book of poems didn't necessarily inspire me to start writing afterwards, but I did enjoy it as an example of the versatility of writing, of the fine subject matter, and of the obvious interest expressed by the poet.
I don't often read books of poetry from front to back, but rather pick and choose one or two poems to read at a time, put the book down, and wander off to think about what I've read or attempt to start writing based on my feelings about the poem(s).
I enjoyed this book, although it took me a year or two to actually get around to reading it. Sarah Messer is a huge "Flynn-fan" (say that five times fast... go on, amuse yourself) and through her courses, I have eventually accumulated all of his written works. The impetus for reading this work though, for it did not occur to me to enjoy it as a poetic work, came about after developing an interest in beekeeping, and reading several beekeeping "textbooks" (The Hive and Honeybee; Backyard Beekeeper; etc) served to jump-start my interest in this book. Now, I love reading this collection - once I felt that I had a grip on some background info, it was easier for me like these poems, to consider his imagery and metaphors, to find him inventive and charming.
I don't often read books of poetry from front to back, but rather pick and choose one or two poems to read at a time, put the book down, and wander off to think about what I've read or attempt to start writing based on my feelings about the poem(s).
I enjoyed this book, although it took me a year or two to actually get around to reading it. Sarah Messer is a huge "Flynn-fan" (say that five times fast... go on, amuse yourself) and through her courses, I have eventually accumulated all of his written works. The impetus for reading this work though, for it did not occur to me to enjoy it as a poetic work, came about after developing an interest in beekeeping, and reading several beekeeping "textbooks" (The Hive and Honeybee; Backyard Beekeeper; etc) served to jump-start my interest in this book. Now, I love reading this collection - once I felt that I had a grip on some background info, it was easier for me like these poems, to consider his imagery and metaphors, to find him inventive and charming.
January 22, 2010
I’ve criticized Nick Flynn for rehashing the same subject matter, but his second collection of poetry, Blind Huber, is actually different. It’s about bees.
Yes. All of it. About bees.
Sometimes the poems are from the perspective of the insects, other times from the handlers, but most of the time, these poems just annoyed me (yes, even when Flynn casually slipped in ‘rhododendron’). Maybe if bees were my favorite insect I’d relish a whole book on the matter, but it seems like a focus best relegated to a section of a poetry book, not the full collection. Though I’m sure this is the kind of novelty bend Graywolf Press loves to publish, inevitably, simply because an author is pushing the boundaries of his or her creativity doesn’t mean readers have to enjoy it.
This is not to say that I didn’t enjoy parts of Blind Huber—the second section (of four) boasted most of the hits—but in the end, I only liked about a third of the total poems (standouts include: “Melitopoles,” “Paper Wasp” and “Queen [failed:]”) and only one the fourteen entitled “Blind Huber” (vii). That’s not good enough for an author whose even-handed tone I’ve savored in several other reads. One star.
Yes. All of it. About bees.
Sometimes the poems are from the perspective of the insects, other times from the handlers, but most of the time, these poems just annoyed me (yes, even when Flynn casually slipped in ‘rhododendron’). Maybe if bees were my favorite insect I’d relish a whole book on the matter, but it seems like a focus best relegated to a section of a poetry book, not the full collection. Though I’m sure this is the kind of novelty bend Graywolf Press loves to publish, inevitably, simply because an author is pushing the boundaries of his or her creativity doesn’t mean readers have to enjoy it.
This is not to say that I didn’t enjoy parts of Blind Huber—the second section (of four) boasted most of the hits—but in the end, I only liked about a third of the total poems (standouts include: “Melitopoles,” “Paper Wasp” and “Queen [failed:]”) and only one the fourteen entitled “Blind Huber” (vii). That’s not good enough for an author whose even-handed tone I’ve savored in several other reads. One star.
May 30, 2016
Blind Huber is a short collection of poems about bees. This book is completely different from anything I've ever read by Flynn, I could say it feels calmer, almost quiet. It's as if Flynn has finally found a safe zone where he could allow his mind to wander, which is kind of ironic considering the content is about living as bees do.
Being born and bred for a single purpose. Almost never leaving hive except when some greater force smashes it open to eat you. Maybe even dying in a comb and being covered in the sweet nectar you so bravely defend, forever to hang suspended, preserved. The food for you and your millions of sisters, brothers, Queen.
I really enjoyed this collection, as I have everything I've read by Flynn, despite the insane negative feedback this book received online. Sometimes the users should just loosen up and enjoy the words instead of looking for a meaning that's not between them.
Being born and bred for a single purpose. Almost never leaving hive except when some greater force smashes it open to eat you. Maybe even dying in a comb and being covered in the sweet nectar you so bravely defend, forever to hang suspended, preserved. The food for you and your millions of sisters, brothers, Queen.
I really enjoyed this collection, as I have everything I've read by Flynn, despite the insane negative feedback this book received online. Sometimes the users should just loosen up and enjoy the words instead of looking for a meaning that's not between them.
July 13, 2014
Everything we know about bees and beekeeping is thanks to a blind 18th century Frenchman named Blind Huber. In Nick Flynn's inspired poetry collection which takes its name from the gentleman, we have a collection in which the queen, the workers, the drones, and even Blind Huber himself speaks,weaving a tale of death and rebirth in poetry. Flynn successfully uses excerpts from Huber's own letters and journals within the poems, but it is really the work from the point of view of the bees that get under your skin, make you think, make you feel, make you see. For example, in the poem Mites, the infected workers say:
...How to exist without
air, how to itch this deep
without tearing our flesh apart?...
Lines like these make you want to scratch a little, make you itch within with thoughts and ideas you'd thought long buried. A great collection.
...How to exist without
air, how to itch this deep
without tearing our flesh apart?...
Lines like these make you want to scratch a little, make you itch within with thoughts and ideas you'd thought long buried. A great collection.
March 9, 2013
If you don't know this, I'm obsessed with writing poems about bees--I have two manuscripts. Blind Huber actually came out the year before I wrote the first one, so I can't be too mad that he "took" my topic.
However, I am a very harsh critic of bee poetry. :)
And the thing I really do not like about this book is that it feels lazy formally and linguistically and imagistically. It's like he let the mythos of Burnens and Huber (and of the bees) carry the book for him without really interceding as a poet. Even if he'd wanted to do that, just focus on the narrative of Burnens and Huber, there was much more he could have done with giving them voices and personalities and such. All in all, a lazy-feeling, safe-playing book.
However, I am a very harsh critic of bee poetry. :)
And the thing I really do not like about this book is that it feels lazy formally and linguistically and imagistically. It's like he let the mythos of Burnens and Huber (and of the bees) carry the book for him without really interceding as a poet. Even if he'd wanted to do that, just focus on the narrative of Burnens and Huber, there was much more he could have done with giving them voices and personalities and such. All in all, a lazy-feeling, safe-playing book.
August 22, 2014
The majority of the poems found in this collection are written delicately. It makes sense given the author's recent fame and following, but I would have liked to have seen more risks taken by a still young author. Consider the endnotes. Exploring the similarities between the civilizations of bees and people while simultaneously exploring the oddity of Huber and Burnen's relationship was enough to keep me interested.
I think it is an achievement to write something so subtle and quiet that leaves readers wanting more and conjecturing. Some of the reviews of this collection are harsh, but I think that it does well to showcase the fears and delights that the author seems to have found in this story.
I was born/you begin, & already each word/makes you smaller.
I think it is an achievement to write something so subtle and quiet that leaves readers wanting more and conjecturing. Some of the reviews of this collection are harsh, but I think that it does well to showcase the fears and delights that the author seems to have found in this story.
I was born/you begin, & already each word/makes you smaller.
November 1, 2014
"the blood rush of yes"
Wonderful example of the melding of science and poetry.
Huber, of French descent and born in Geneva, began to lose his eyesight at age 15, but nevertheless spent the next 50 years studying honeybees, much of the knowledge of which, while ancient, had been lost. Bees, of course, made agriculture possible, and agriculture made civilization possible. Which in turn allows science and art to thrive.
From "Blind Huber (xiii)":
It's Easter,
& not one of my visitors, learned men of
science, not one
will notice what's been taken, just a blind
man staring day after day into loud
air, propped before a vision
that can only fail.
Wonderful example of the melding of science and poetry.
Huber, of French descent and born in Geneva, began to lose his eyesight at age 15, but nevertheless spent the next 50 years studying honeybees, much of the knowledge of which, while ancient, had been lost. Bees, of course, made agriculture possible, and agriculture made civilization possible. Which in turn allows science and art to thrive.
From "Blind Huber (xiii)":
It's Easter,
& not one of my visitors, learned men of
science, not one
will notice what's been taken, just a blind
man staring day after day into loud
air, propped before a vision
that can only fail.
July 27, 2011
I love collections organized around themes, or poem cycles about a specific concept (like Gabrielle Calvocoressi's excellent The Last Time I Saw Amelia Earhart). Nick Flynn's collection is no different. Here in Blind Huber, Flynn showcases his talents as an image-maker exploring the hive society of bees through the eyes of philosophical/mystic bee-keeper Blind Huber and his bees. These short poems are both taut and languid, with an economy of image taking on a near-mythic resonance, as these bees and their keeper muse on love, nature, desire, knowledge and purpose.
September 18, 2008
This is an amazing book. The poem that stuck out to me most: Twinned.
To exist wholly in another, seamless,
mirrored. Think of the hive,
at each turn we find ourselves, not
a version, not a replica,
but our whole selves. Love,
you claim, comes close to this,
no space
between your words, a hand
over each other’s heart. How do you live
with this distance? I have you, she
claims, or, I know you,
but she can never say, I am you.
To exist wholly in another, seamless,
mirrored. Think of the hive,
at each turn we find ourselves, not
a version, not a replica,
but our whole selves. Love,
you claim, comes close to this,
no space
between your words, a hand
over each other’s heart. How do you live
with this distance? I have you, she
claims, or, I know you,
but she can never say, I am you.
June 15, 2011
I don't know what happened here. I'm becoming wary of contemporary poets' second books. It seems as if the tendency is to let the craft overrun the heartbeat of the work. This read like a good idea on the back jacket, but seems to me to be too filled with self-aware "cleverness." I'll keep running towards anything that Flynn writes; he's still my hero. Alas, I guess even super rock-star poets need to falter every once in a while.
April 10, 2009
Very different from Some Ether, but beautiful in its own way. I was skeptical at first when I realized half or more of the poems were written from the perspective of bees. Epistemic privilege seemed like a bit of the problem. But, I found myself loving them, a lot. And, I love the way he uses his lines--crazy ass line breaks, but I love them.
October 6, 2008
I'm a fan of Flynn's first book of poems, Some Ether. I've lost count of how many times I've read it, in fact, and highly recommend it. But this book, while having a clear enough purpose, never transcends its subject matter. The effect is flat.
April 13, 2009
I'm into the concept/conceit, and find some of the language and the spare configurations to be quite lovely, but ultimately, it just doesn't _do_ anything for me. However insistently intertextual the poems are, they don't seem to progress or build on one another or grow in a satisfying way.
March 19, 2008
A friend recommended this collection to me and I am forever grateful.
beautiful beyond words...
beautiful beyond words...
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