I hope you're okay in there, lovelies. I hope you're warm. After five years of working with bees on her farm in northern Alberta, Jenna Butler shares with the reader the rich experience of keeping hives. Starting with a rare bright day in late November as the bees are settling in for winter she takes us through a year in beekeeping on her small piece of the boreal forest. Weaving together her personal story with the practical aspects of running a farm she takes us into the worlds of honeybees and wild bees. She considers the twinned development of the canola and honey industries in Alberta and the impact of crop sprays, debates the impact of introduced flowers versus native flowers, the effect of colony collapse disorder and the protection of natural environments for wild bees. But this is also the story of women and bees and how beekeeping became Jenna Butler's personal survival story.
Jenna Butler is an award-winning poet and essayist whose work has appeared in numerous journals and anthologies around the world. She is the author of three books of poetry, Seldom Seen Road (NeWest Press 2013), Wells (University of Alberta Press 2012) and Aphelion (NeWest Press 2010). Her book of essays is A Profession of Hope: Farming on the Edge of the Grizzly Trail (Wolsak and Wynn, 2015), and her latest work is the poetic travelogue Magnetic North: Sea Voyage to Svalbard (University of Alberta Press, 2018).
Butler is a professor of Creative Writing and Ecocriticism at Red Deer College in Canada. She lives with a den of coyotes and three resident moose on an organic farm in Alberta's north country.
Title: Revery: A Year of Bees Author: Jenna Butler Genre: Memoir Rating: 4.50 Pub Date: March 23, 2021
T H R E E • W O R D S
Enlightening • Gentle • Meditative
📖 S Y N O P S I S
After five years of working with bees on her farm in northern Alberta, Jenna Butler shares with the reader the rich experience of keeping hives. Starting with a rare bright day in late November as the bees are settling in for winter she takes us through a year in beekeeping on her small piece of the boreal forest. Weaving together her personal story with the practical aspects of running a farm she takes us into the worlds of honeybees and wild bees. But this is also the story of women and bees and how beekeeping became Jenna Butler's personal survival story.
💭 T H O U G H T S
If not for the 2023 Canada Read longlist, it is quite possible I'd have missed this little gem of a book entirely, which would have been unfortunate as I connected with it so deeply. Revery is a quick and reflective look at the fascinating world of bees, the art of beekeeping, the notion of reciprocity with the natural world, and the importance of slowing down.
My father has kept bees for the past six years, and during this period of time I have come to learn so much about the workings of bees and find it absolutely fascinating. Bees have become a constant reminder of what we can learn from nature, and I can attest to the truthfulness of what Jenna calls 'the telling of the bees' from my own personal experience.
The writing is intimate and calming. And I love how she uses the yearly calendar to tell the story of the bees while intertwining her own healing journey. This structure allowed for effortless flow from start to finish. The nature of the writing kept my interest and I cam away with a lighter spirit.
Not only does the author educate the reader on bees and beekeeping, but she sheds a much needed and valuable light on the impact of industrialization and climate change on our natural world. It certainly made me think more about my everyday decisions and want to know more about alternative lifestyles. This compact book moved be both spiritually and intellectually, and I wish it had made the short list, as I think it would have been a strong contender for shifting one's perspective.
It's early in the year, yet I am predicting Revery will be one of my most surprising reads of 2023!
📚 R E C O M M E N D • T O • nature enthusiasts • anyone considering an off-the-grid lifestyle
I never would have heard of this book if it were not for the Canada Reads 2023 long-list. It is a quick read full of facts intertwined with healing. Did you know that Alberta is the largest honey producer in Canada? or that Canada is the 5th largest honey producer in the world? this was new learning for me and I appreciated learning more about the delicate ecosystem and interconnected world that impacts the hives. I was shocked to learn the number of bee species in AB - at least 320 species of wild bees.
I appreciated the thought of the power of calmness in listening to the hum of the hive and had not been aware that some inhale the warmth of the hive as an inhalation therapy for respiratory challenges.
this book was perfect to read after finishing Locavore as it reinforces the importance of carefully considering where your food... and honey comes from and encourages buying local to support producers like Jenna Butler who cares for and worries about her hive and climate change.
I am not sure how this book would fare in the battle of the books but am glad that I read it and learned a new perspective in thinking about beekeeping, climate change and the healing calm from the hive.
Published by Wolsak & Wynn in Hamilton, Ontario, this book is written by a woman of colour who is also a farmer and a beekeeper in Alberta; did you know that Alberta is by far the largest honey producer in Canada, and indeed the fifth largest in the world? A relatively quick read, and yet so much to learn here about beekeeping - particularly for those of us who ever thought of dabbling in it. She writes about the "telling it to the bees" and about the energy involved; they can sense if you are fearful or on edge or have had a bad day, and are more likely to sting you and drive you away. "I came to beekeeping as a way of learning how to handle my fear of pain"; "beekeeping forces me to learn how to handle my own weather"; "The bees have taught me to breathe, to sit with that wounding for a moment and to let it go". Towards the end of the book she also writes about "climate grief" and cites Senator Murray Sinclair, who said that guilt stops us from moving forward, but shame makes us actively want to repair what we've done wrong, to make things right. Still mulling that over. The title of this book is apparently from an Emily Dickinson poem which is in the frontispiece of the book: "To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, if bees are few."
This was phenomenal. It wasn't poetry, but more of a memoir, and a bit of an instruction manual on how I'd love to live life. With everything she has written, it feels like Jenna is just peering into my soul and pours hers into it. Through the scope of her beekeeping on her organic farm, she reveals the true secrets and meanings of life. I can't help but imagine how much better the world would be if we focused on smaller things just a little bit more.
Revery is an excellent essay collection - short and bittersweet. I didn’t know Alberta was a big honey producer, and Butler intersperses information about wild bees, honeybees and the catastrophic impact of climate change with poetic anecdotes about the colonies she tends. Revery reminds me of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle in its summoning of seasons and the joy of being closer to growing things. It sometimes repeats information- it reads more like an essay collection than a fully shaped book - but it provides a great sense of a place (Northern Alberta, near the tree line) I don’t know.
Possibly a good read for someone who is into bees or biodiversity. Neither are close to my area of interest so I didn’t feel a “grab” when I started the book. I had hoped that it would be engaging enough to get me interested, but that wasn’t the case.
An interesting and up-close look at beekeeping in Canada, specifically northern Alberta. It was beautiful to hear the author's story and think about climate change through the lens of bees--both wild and honey.
Bees bees bees! A lovely little read about the process and joy and nuance of beekeeping. Butler is clearly a poet, and her prose was gorgeous. I learned a little and loved a lot.
Butler lovingly celebrates the seasons of bees at the same time as she worries for them in the face of industrial 'agriculture' and climate change. Honest and reverent.
(*I received this in exchange for an honest review through Goodreads Giveaway program.)
This novella could have been better. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't amazing either. The author, Jenna, has some good points and a good voice through which she writes. However, I found many of the points repetitive and that she kept reiterating the same thing multiple times within each chapter and in the next chapter.
I had been hoping to get a bit more insight into beekeeping, but it seemed to sort of be talked about, but at the same time, the focus was elsewhere. It would start out about beekeeping, but then go into about how we need to coexist with the environment and bees are becoming endangered or how more women are getting into bee keeping. Which are all great, don't get me wrong, but Jenna kept bringing up those points multiple times without really exploring answers.
I know several species of bees are on the endangered species list. However, other than writing about it and then talking about how no one cared until a species of honey bee made the list, there are no action steps posed to the readers. Nothing about how they can personally help, like what kind of fauna species of bees might like that would help support more than honeybees.
I often find that people pose issues, and I agree that these are issues, but I also feel like there could always be suggestions to motivate people. The novella gets you to think about some of the problems facing bees and bee keeping, but it doesn't provide insight into what the average person can do. I feel like Jenna could have expanded on that instead of repeating the same sentiments over and over.
I also wish it focused a little bit more on the bee keeping. I learned that bees can sense emotions and feed off of that. She talked about wrapping the hives for winter and a little about the process of making honey. However, I would have liked to delve a little deeper. Walk me through the process of collecting the honey from the hive and how you can separate it from the comb and filter it to make honey. How do you pick the flowers you plant for the bees. Those kinds of things.
Again, not a bad novella, just, one that could have been expanded on and some of the repetitiveness taken out. It wouldn't have changed the impact of the book, just made it less monotonous at times to read.
In this compact book, half essay, half memoir, Jenna Butler offers readers a primer on caring for honeybees and their habitat in the boreal forest of Alberta. Not just honeybees, but also native bees and other creatures of or on the fringes of the small farm she and her husband manage. She speaks of the threat of industrialization and encroaching suburbia which strip the landscape of its native diversity. She gives fascinating and sometimes harrowing accounts of caring for her resident bees, from localized problems to the threat of climate change.
I always misread the word “revery” in the book title as “reverence,” but that’s what you’ll find plenty of in this lovely, poetic and informative book. Reverence for the natural world and for the healing process, whether human or planetary. Beyond the practical care of the bees, which itself is fascinating, the author invites you in to a more intimate, personal and sensory experience of them. Here, on a hot summer day on the verge of the forest, she becomes aware of her honeybees: “It’s a sound I perceive less as sound and more as sense…my body’s first response is the prickling rise of the hairs on my arms.…I become aware of the hum…a sound that registers somewhere in my sternum.” For Butler, the bees are not just producers of honey, but participants in her very life on the farm. Their presence offers her healing from egregious prior trauma, helps mark the seasons and demands of weather, and reminds her that eco-systems all over the planet are both vital for our survival but also under threat.
"Revery, A Year of Bees,” is a diary, a poetic evocation, a scientifically sound appeal to all of us to recognize our mutual interdependence with the creatures and flora on this planet. I’m not a farmer, but a gardener and lover of bees and pollinators, also concerned at the decreasing numbers of bees in my tiny slice of paradise. I found Butler’s book moving, intellectually and emotionally. In the penultimate chapter, she writes, “Wrapping the bees feels a lot like drawing a curtain on the season. The light’s already curling in on itself, the sun low and slanting…”
It seems there are a lot of books published these days with bees as the important theme in the book. This small volume is set in northern Canada and shares the life of a woman living off the grid and tending bees for her and her husband as well as selling it along with the fruits of her organic garden. I hope you're okay in there, lovelies. I hope you're warm. After five years of working with bees on her farm in northern Alberta, Jenna Butler shares with the reader the rich experience of keeping hives. Starting with a rare bright day in late November as the bees are settling in for winter she takes us through a year in beekeeping on her small piece of the boreal forest. Weaving together her personal story with the practical aspects of running a farm she takes us into the worlds of honeybees and wild bees. She considers the twinned development of the canola and honey industries in Alberta and the impact of crop sprays, debates the impact of introduced flowers versus native flowers, the effect of colony collapse disorder and the protection of natural environments for wild bees. But this is also the story of women and bees and how beekeeping became Jenna Butler's personal survival story.
This is author, Jenna Butler’s memoir and essay on becoming a beekeeper, what it’s like to raise bees throughout the year and what’s she’s learned from doing this, what the bees have taught her. It was an insightful and well written essay that the reader enjoyed because it was easy to follow, there was something to learn and moments to take away from. The way this was told was interesting, journal-like entries for each chapter chronically a year in the life of beekeeping. As someone who doesn’t know much about bees this was informative, to a certain degree. Butler didn’t go into too many details and specifics of bees, which gave this a light reading feel, but at the same time, the reader found themselves googling about bees to get a bit more of an understanding as to what she was talking about. In this reader’s opinion, this could have used some more facts to help give people who know almost nothing about bees a little more context. Aside from that, this was a really beautiful read; we could feel her passion and emotion for them and the ecosystem she has created on her farm through her words; it left the reader feeling inspired to do some kind of good, whatever that may look like. This was a short, quick read, coming in at a hundred and nineteen pages and was easy to get through in a day. As easy as it was to get through, the way Butler wrote made the reader want to savour every word. This was truly an uplifting and illuminating read, highly recommend.
This is straight up one of the most fascinating books I ever reader in spite of this book only being roughly 105 pages. Jenna Bulter can just flat out write. No wonder she teaches creative writing at a college in Red Deer Alberta. I never knew that there are about 20,000 different species of bees until reading this book, or that the province of Alberta produces most of the honey in Canada. This book in spite of having such few pages there's enough interesting things in this book to keep your mind wondering for a long time. I won't say anymore that's in the book so not to spoil anything. Without giving anything away the reason why Jeena Butler got into bee keeping was something I never would have been able to guess. Just read this book, you won't be disappointed.
This is not exactly what I was expecting, which was more of a personal memoir of a beekeeper; this is more of a series of essays on different aspects of beekeeping in Northern Alberta: from the history of beekeeping in the province, the rise of small boutique beekeeping operators, environmental challenges, endangered bee populations, and so on. There were a couple of more personal essays near the end of the collection, which were my favorite parts of the book. Overall, I learned a lot, and enjoy Jenna Butler's lyrical writing style, and I hope she writes more about her experiences with farming and nature.
Revery is a fascinating look at both the world of beekeeping in rural Alberta and a much wider story about bees, the ecosystem, farming, climate change, and healing. The writing is lovely; richly descriptive while keeping an almost journalistic adherence to the storytelling, allowing the facts to flow naturally. It's a short read, and definitely worth picking up if you're interested in the natural world. It's a quiet sort of book, and it didn't hook me the way some books do, but every time I picked it up again, it was a pleasant reading experience.
Contemplative. Moving. Inspiring. What a lovely little book! It’s about beekeeping and living on the land in these times of climate change, yet also a memoir and lyrical reflection from the author. I was excited to read this because I find beekeeping fascinating, and because I worked briefly with the author in the past - and I loved every page turn. I felt like I was there alongside the bees through the seasons, and came away with a deep admiration for the work the author does for both the bees and her little corner of the world.
I used to want to be a beekeeper on some farm far away in Germany. This book taught a lot about beekeeping, climate change, the endangerment of the bee species. I really enjoyed this book for all the information and it relaxed me reading it.
A lovely book of connecting of connecting to bee colonies and the land for lessons of hope and repair in a time of personal challenge. A clearly written book with a gentle buzz like the bees she writes about... opens us to new possibilities.
I appreciated the beautiful imagery more than the moralizing. This book was not what I expected; it was an odd assortment of things, parts of which I liked more than others.
This little book was great. Learned a lot about bees, what helps them thrive, and about their delicate existence. Canada Reads 2023 longlist selection.