eta: The last of the links is now up.
"Day 28 - French Chestnut Honey
Colour: Sunshine in Ottawa, and a little paler still.
Smell: More than a flower, something else, something earthy and nutty and malty at once. Hints of green and smoke, substance.
Taste: A burnt wood taste, hints of anise; this is a honey that tastes very brown and black, dark with slants of light in it."
Today's piece is a glorious one to end on, a lovely bit of fantasy about a girl who forgot how to kiss. It fits very neatly in with much of the rest of the collection - the Cranberry honey boy and the Manuka honey girl, even, perhaps, the harbor bees from Day 3. It's sweet, and poignant, and, in the end, hopeful.
------------------------------------
This is the last day of the Honey Month, so I hope you all enjoyed it. I've had lots of fun re-reading Amal's work; a little at a time is the way to approach such a book. If you've wandered in from one of the places where Amal's DVD extras showed up, I do hope you'll stick around; maybe even participate a little?
I've really enjoyed the process of posting something daily, and would love suggestions for something I can continue this process with - a book of poems or short stories, or meditations. Several people whose blogs I read are engaged in long-form literary criticism, taking a book or even a series of books that the blog writer dislikes, and picking the book to pieces. I do not want to do that. However, if you had a collection - perhaps it's your collection - that you feel needs some exposure, I'd love to attempt to continue what I started this month.
---------------------------------------------------------------
A note on what's been going on here. Two years ago, Amal El-Mohtar began a month long exploration of a variety of honeys, tasting and describing each, and then writing a short piece of fiction, or a poem, or something of that nature which was inspired by the honey of the day. Last year, these posts were collected into a short book - more formal than a simple chapbook, perhaps - called The Honey Month, which I reviewed when it came out. My biggest problem, at that time, was that I ploughed through the book too quickly, and so I resolved to do a more careful reading of it at a later date. That later date is now - the posts were originally a February project, and so there are 28 honey days. This is now February, and I cannot think of a better time to slowly read poems and stories about honey. The material in quotation marks is the description of the day's honey, from the book (so that you get a good taste of Amal's lovely writing), what follows that is a brief thought about the piece of poetry or fiction of that day from yours truly.
In addition to my daily reviews, Amal has been re-running the original posts with what she is describing as "DVD Extras," some commentary on the piece for the day, some discussion of the differences between the original post and the finished piece in the book, and some delicious LJ Honey Month icons. The first of the re-runs is here, and I have been linking the appropriate post via the daily title, above, as the post becomes available. Amal is currently in England (because she is fabulous), and so her sense of what time it is and my sense of what time it is are somewhat askew. And that's ok.
Showing posts with label The Honey Month. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Honey Month. Show all posts
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 27 (2/27/2011)
"Day 27 - Leatherwood Honey
Colour: Chardonnay. I look at its pale yellow-gold and imagine the buttery aftertaste. Beautifully, stickily liquid and clear.
Smell: Candy-sweet with a creaminess to it, white flowers and sugared milk.
Taste: High sweetness; on the register of sweetness this would [be] a top note. A sweetness you taste behind your eyes. Petals and light."
Today's piece muses on a (mythical?) Victorian language of honey.* It's short, and an interesting exercise in world building, but I found the messages that Amal associated with various honeys to be a little unpleasant. I think this is my least favorite piece in the book, and it comes right at the end, which is a shame.
*I can't find anything in a cursory look to indicate a Victorian language of honey, but there was a secret language of flowers, and of fans, and of hair styles, so why not honey?
Late post today, so Amal has already posted her DVD extras - link in the title, above.
Colour: Chardonnay. I look at its pale yellow-gold and imagine the buttery aftertaste. Beautifully, stickily liquid and clear.
Smell: Candy-sweet with a creaminess to it, white flowers and sugared milk.
Taste: High sweetness; on the register of sweetness this would [be] a top note. A sweetness you taste behind your eyes. Petals and light."
Today's piece muses on a (mythical?) Victorian language of honey.* It's short, and an interesting exercise in world building, but I found the messages that Amal associated with various honeys to be a little unpleasant. I think this is my least favorite piece in the book, and it comes right at the end, which is a shame.
*I can't find anything in a cursory look to indicate a Victorian language of honey, but there was a secret language of flowers, and of fans, and of hair styles, so why not honey?
Late post today, so Amal has already posted her DVD extras - link in the title, above.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
The Honey Month, day 26 (2/26/2011)
Today's link - with photos!
"Day 26 - Blackberry Creamed Honey
Colour: Red as melted garnets, Pinot Noir, blackberry syrup cut with water. This is the reddest honey I've seen yet.
Smell: Qurban, the bread they serve at funerals.*
Taste: The honey takes a back seat to the blackberry. It's like a blackberry syrup, like toot, mulberry syrup my mother would mix up with water to make us a summer drink.** Delicious, sweet, and smooth."
A nice lyric poem today about rescuing someone from self-inflicted, and self-perpetuating, isolation. It's sweet; but I can't help but wonder what happens after the rescuer leaves - the man is free from himself now, but how does he react?
*Some quick research seems to indicate that Qurban is a Lebanese delicacy, a sweet bread used in Orthodox and Coptic communion, but also widely sold during the week. Recipe here, with a lovely picture. A different recipe here, with a less groomed picture. I have no reason to doubt that the bread is served at funerals, but I cannot find a reference which indicates that.
** Sharab El Toot is a traditional Lebanese drink made from mulberries - a secondary product of Lebanon's silk production. Pictures and a recipe here - it is a delicious looking red colour. Perhaps a close approximation might be Ribena, which is a British black currant syrup.
"Day 26 - Blackberry Creamed Honey
Colour: Red as melted garnets, Pinot Noir, blackberry syrup cut with water. This is the reddest honey I've seen yet.
Smell: Qurban, the bread they serve at funerals.*
Taste: The honey takes a back seat to the blackberry. It's like a blackberry syrup, like toot, mulberry syrup my mother would mix up with water to make us a summer drink.** Delicious, sweet, and smooth."
A nice lyric poem today about rescuing someone from self-inflicted, and self-perpetuating, isolation. It's sweet; but I can't help but wonder what happens after the rescuer leaves - the man is free from himself now, but how does he react?
*Some quick research seems to indicate that Qurban is a Lebanese delicacy, a sweet bread used in Orthodox and Coptic communion, but also widely sold during the week. Recipe here, with a lovely picture. A different recipe here, with a less groomed picture. I have no reason to doubt that the bread is served at funerals, but I cannot find a reference which indicates that.
** Sharab El Toot is a traditional Lebanese drink made from mulberries - a secondary product of Lebanon's silk production. Pictures and a recipe here - it is a delicious looking red colour. Perhaps a close approximation might be Ribena, which is a British black currant syrup.
Friday, February 25, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 25 (2/25/2011)
Did I mention link? Because it's up now.
"Day 25 - Raw Manuka Honey
Colour: Pale cloudy yellow, the colour of late morning light.
Smell: Strongly anti-septic; a cleaning product smell.
Taste: It's thick without being crystallised, heaps out onto the wand, and tastes clean and sugary without the chemical smell interfering. A flavour not dissimilar to anise."
A lovely re-telling of the end of Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Mermaid today - deeply moving, and a little disturbing. Nice.
"Day 25 - Raw Manuka Honey
Colour: Pale cloudy yellow, the colour of late morning light.
Smell: Strongly anti-septic; a cleaning product smell.
Taste: It's thick without being crystallised, heaps out onto the wand, and tastes clean and sugary without the chemical smell interfering. A flavour not dissimilar to anise."
A lovely re-telling of the end of Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Mermaid today - deeply moving, and a little disturbing. Nice.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 24 (2/24/2011)
eta: Link.
"Day 24 - Apricot Creamed Honey
Colour: Today's booze-related colour is lager, specifically Beck's.
Smell: In keeping with creamed honey for, more belly-button fuzz!
Taste: A juicy sweetness, fresh; the honey's liquidy, and the sweetness has a liquid edge to it as well. It doesn't dry out the mouth at all, and calls up fruit without tasting specifically of apricot."
Oooo, this one is nice. I don't know if allegorical is an entirely accurate descriptor, but I'm going to go with it anyway. The bees are an allegory for the restorative back and forth of romantic love - sometimes partner A supports partner B, and sometimes the opposite is true.
This is a lovely and sweet piece; I'd pair it up with the Cranberry Honey story from the beginning of the month - a diptych, if you will.
"Day 24 - Apricot Creamed Honey
Colour: Today's booze-related colour is lager, specifically Beck's.
Smell: In keeping with creamed honey for, more belly-button fuzz!
Taste: A juicy sweetness, fresh; the honey's liquidy, and the sweetness has a liquid edge to it as well. It doesn't dry out the mouth at all, and calls up fruit without tasting specifically of apricot."
Oooo, this one is nice. I don't know if allegorical is an entirely accurate descriptor, but I'm going to go with it anyway. The bees are an allegory for the restorative back and forth of romantic love - sometimes partner A supports partner B, and sometimes the opposite is true.
This is a lovely and sweet piece; I'd pair it up with the Cranberry Honey story from the beginning of the month - a diptych, if you will.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 23 (2/23/2011)
A link, a link!
"Day 23 - Tart Cherry Creamed Honey
Colour: The colour of quince syrup: a dark beautiful red amber.
Smell: I wonder what it is about creaming honey that produces that unpleasantness? All the creamed ones have had it so far, an odd body-like odour that I'm coming to realise promises deliciousness. There's a sharpness to this one too, though, a hint of pine resin.
Taste: Cherries steeped in syrup or wine."*
Ouch - a gut punch of a scene today, unrequited lust, perhaps? It's a scene that, perhaps, we're all familiar with - we see someone across a room that we like, and we build fantasies about how meeting them will be, and then, as we go to meet them, they do not react as we had expected them to react, and the whole fantasy collapses. This scene does that quite nicely - a fine piece of writing.
*Perhaps a cherry lambic?
"Day 23 - Tart Cherry Creamed Honey
Colour: The colour of quince syrup: a dark beautiful red amber.
Smell: I wonder what it is about creaming honey that produces that unpleasantness? All the creamed ones have had it so far, an odd body-like odour that I'm coming to realise promises deliciousness. There's a sharpness to this one too, though, a hint of pine resin.
Taste: Cherries steeped in syrup or wine."*
Ouch - a gut punch of a scene today, unrequited lust, perhaps? It's a scene that, perhaps, we're all familiar with - we see someone across a room that we like, and we build fantasies about how meeting them will be, and then, as we go to meet them, they do not react as we had expected them to react, and the whole fantasy collapses. This scene does that quite nicely - a fine piece of writing.
*Perhaps a cherry lambic?
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 22 (2/22/2011)
Two things to add. First, the link to Amal's DVD extras is live. Second, I am pleased to announce that I am now writing reviews of the work of a Nebula nominee - Amal has been nominated in the short story category. The story in question is here, and though it has nothing to do with vampires, I've read it, and it's good. So, many congrats, Amal!
"Day 22 - Malaysian Rainforest Honey
Colour: Opaque, creamy orange-brown - a bit like pale caramel, slightly warm.
Smell: Cold wet flowers tangled in syrup.
Taste: A very water honey, strange because it's very crystallised, but it's as if the crystals are floating in wetness. It tastes like candy - the hard kind that come in bright colours, individual wrappers. That, and violets - the scent of violets."
Another piece of magical realism. This one is a fragment, and it cries out for a continuation - it's the beginning of something much longer. It doesn't fit in with the other scraps that cry out for continuation - it's something entirely its own; but it doesn't stand on its own.
"Day 22 - Malaysian Rainforest Honey
Colour: Opaque, creamy orange-brown - a bit like pale caramel, slightly warm.
Smell: Cold wet flowers tangled in syrup.
Taste: A very water honey, strange because it's very crystallised, but it's as if the crystals are floating in wetness. It tastes like candy - the hard kind that come in bright colours, individual wrappers. That, and violets - the scent of violets."
Another piece of magical realism. This one is a fragment, and it cries out for a continuation - it's the beginning of something much longer. It doesn't fit in with the other scraps that cry out for continuation - it's something entirely its own; but it doesn't stand on its own.
Monday, February 21, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 21 (2/21/2011)
I'm not sure what lychee tastes like, but I know where to find a link!
"Day 21 - Bamboo Honey
Colour: Orange amber, complete with cloudiness and bubbles.
Smell: thick and gummy; raisins; a hint of molasses.
Taste: Lychee. Completely. Strong, beautiful, lychee-thickened-with-honey with a side of light raisins."
A lovely piece of magic realism today, involving a vaguely ominous pie baking home invader. I mean, this is the most dangerous pie you've ever heard of. This is the Dracula of pie bakers - there's a strong vampire flavour here, which crosses both of the month's themes. Amal packs a delightful punch of unease and menace into this piece, it's the sort of story that will plant its barbs in you and niggle at you for the rest of the day. Excellent.
"Day 21 - Bamboo Honey
Colour: Orange amber, complete with cloudiness and bubbles.
Smell: thick and gummy; raisins; a hint of molasses.
Taste: Lychee. Completely. Strong, beautiful, lychee-thickened-with-honey with a side of light raisins."
A lovely piece of magic realism today, involving a vaguely ominous pie baking home invader. I mean, this is the most dangerous pie you've ever heard of. This is the Dracula of pie bakers - there's a strong vampire flavour here, which crosses both of the month's themes. Amal packs a delightful punch of unease and menace into this piece, it's the sort of story that will plant its barbs in you and niggle at you for the rest of the day. Excellent.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 20 (2/20/2011)
The link, it is up!
"Day 20 - Blackberry Honey (2)*
Colour: Thick, cloudy, creamy orange yellow
Smell: Sugared brambles and thorns.
Taste: Gentle, quiet; something crystallised. It does not taste of blackberries so far as I can tell; oh, maybe a little, there, but it's more honey than anything else."
*Amal offers no explanation of why there are 2 blackberry honeys, but consider that she was tasting a collection of honey sent to her by a friend. I assume, since the descriptions are different, that this is an entirely different blackberry honey from the last one.
Hmmm. Today's piece almost feels like two different poems. The first is a kinda sexy piece, mourning the loss of a lover, with honey and brambles as fairly potent metaphors. Sad, but, as I say, sexy and evocative.
The second poem is an interesting musing on Ophelia's drowning - like the earlier reevaluation of Goliath, this twists the story a little, and makes it a love story about Ophelia and the river. It's sweet, and sad, but a little hopeful.
Both poems are nice, but I don't really see how they fit together, beyond the fact that both address a sense of loss.
---------------------------------------------------------------
A note on what's going on here. Two years ago, Amal El-Mohtar began a month long exploration of a variety of honeys, tasting and describing each, and then writing a short piece of fiction, or a poem, or something of that nature which was inspired by the honey of the day. Last year, these posts were collected into a short book - more formal than a simple chapbook, perhaps - called The Honey Month, which I reviewed when it came out. My biggest problem, at that time, was that I ploughed through the book too quickly, and so I resolved to do a more careful reading of it at a later date. That later date is now - the posts were originally a February project, and so there are 28 honey days. This is now February, and I cannot think of a better time to slowly read poems and stories about honey. The material in quotation marks is the description of the day's honey, from the book (so that you get a good taste of Amal's lovely writing), what follows that is a brief thought about the piece of poetry or fiction of that day from yours truly.
In addition to my daily reviews, Amal has been re-running the original posts with what she is describing as "DVD Extras," some commentary on the piece for the day, some discussion of the differences between the original post and the finished piece in the book, and some delicious LJ Honey Month icons. The first of the re-runs is here, and I have been linking the appropriate post via the daily title, above, as the post becomes available. Amal is currently in England (because she is fabulous), and so her sense of what time it is and my sense of what time it is are somewhat askew. And that's ok.
"Day 20 - Blackberry Honey (2)*
Colour: Thick, cloudy, creamy orange yellow
Smell: Sugared brambles and thorns.
Taste: Gentle, quiet; something crystallised. It does not taste of blackberries so far as I can tell; oh, maybe a little, there, but it's more honey than anything else."
*Amal offers no explanation of why there are 2 blackberry honeys, but consider that she was tasting a collection of honey sent to her by a friend. I assume, since the descriptions are different, that this is an entirely different blackberry honey from the last one.
Hmmm. Today's piece almost feels like two different poems. The first is a kinda sexy piece, mourning the loss of a lover, with honey and brambles as fairly potent metaphors. Sad, but, as I say, sexy and evocative.
The second poem is an interesting musing on Ophelia's drowning - like the earlier reevaluation of Goliath, this twists the story a little, and makes it a love story about Ophelia and the river. It's sweet, and sad, but a little hopeful.
Both poems are nice, but I don't really see how they fit together, beyond the fact that both address a sense of loss.
---------------------------------------------------------------
A note on what's going on here. Two years ago, Amal El-Mohtar began a month long exploration of a variety of honeys, tasting and describing each, and then writing a short piece of fiction, or a poem, or something of that nature which was inspired by the honey of the day. Last year, these posts were collected into a short book - more formal than a simple chapbook, perhaps - called The Honey Month, which I reviewed when it came out. My biggest problem, at that time, was that I ploughed through the book too quickly, and so I resolved to do a more careful reading of it at a later date. That later date is now - the posts were originally a February project, and so there are 28 honey days. This is now February, and I cannot think of a better time to slowly read poems and stories about honey. The material in quotation marks is the description of the day's honey, from the book (so that you get a good taste of Amal's lovely writing), what follows that is a brief thought about the piece of poetry or fiction of that day from yours truly.
In addition to my daily reviews, Amal has been re-running the original posts with what she is describing as "DVD Extras," some commentary on the piece for the day, some discussion of the differences between the original post and the finished piece in the book, and some delicious LJ Honey Month icons. The first of the re-runs is here, and I have been linking the appropriate post via the daily title, above, as the post becomes available. Amal is currently in England (because she is fabulous), and so her sense of what time it is and my sense of what time it is are somewhat askew. And that's ok.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 19 (2/19/2011)
eta: Ladies and gentlemen, today's link is live!
"Day 19 - Honeydew Honey*
Colour: Apple juice. I want to organise these into series; apple juice, apple cider, white wine, various other booze.
Smell: That body smell, ringed with green-fleshed melon that gives the scent a supple thickness.
Taste: Melon, pie, and pistachio."
*So, we have a melon named for the fact that it tastes like honey, flavouring honey - I think I would like very much to try this one too.
The story today is very sad, and very true, for all that it is fantastical fiction. We live in an age, I am afraid, which handles metaphors poorly and magic almost not at all. A lengthy Tom Stoppard quote, from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead:
"A man breaking his journey between one place and another at a third place of no name, character, population or significance, sees a unicorn cross his path and disappear. That in itself is startling, but there are precedents for mystical encounters of various kinds, or to be less extreme, a choice of persuasions to put it down to fancy; until--"My God," says a second man, "I must be dreaming, I thought I saw a unicorn." At which point, a dimension is added that makes the experience as alarming as it will ever be. A third witness, you understand, adds no further dimension but only spreads it thinner, and a fourth thinner still, and the more witnesses there are the thinner it gets and the more reasonable it becomes until it is as thin as reality, the name we give to the common experience... "Look, look!" recites the crowd. "A horse with an arrow in its forehead! It must have been mistaken for a deer."
So, when offered a chance to taste dawn, we find ourselves mouthing bread, and, perhaps, not very good bread, and that is all. Very sad.
"Day 19 - Honeydew Honey*
Colour: Apple juice. I want to organise these into series; apple juice, apple cider, white wine, various other booze.
Smell: That body smell, ringed with green-fleshed melon that gives the scent a supple thickness.
Taste: Melon, pie, and pistachio."
*So, we have a melon named for the fact that it tastes like honey, flavouring honey - I think I would like very much to try this one too.
The story today is very sad, and very true, for all that it is fantastical fiction. We live in an age, I am afraid, which handles metaphors poorly and magic almost not at all. A lengthy Tom Stoppard quote, from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead:
"A man breaking his journey between one place and another at a third place of no name, character, population or significance, sees a unicorn cross his path and disappear. That in itself is startling, but there are precedents for mystical encounters of various kinds, or to be less extreme, a choice of persuasions to put it down to fancy; until--"My God," says a second man, "I must be dreaming, I thought I saw a unicorn." At which point, a dimension is added that makes the experience as alarming as it will ever be. A third witness, you understand, adds no further dimension but only spreads it thinner, and a fourth thinner still, and the more witnesses there are the thinner it gets and the more reasonable it becomes until it is as thin as reality, the name we give to the common experience... "Look, look!" recites the crowd. "A horse with an arrow in its forehead! It must have been mistaken for a deer."
So, when offered a chance to taste dawn, we find ourselves mouthing bread, and, perhaps, not very good bread, and that is all. Very sad.
Friday, February 18, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 18 (2/18/2011)
Link is up - Amal's DVD comments for today make this story a full degree more creepy.
"Day 18 - Manuka Honey
Colour: Mulled cider - but more specifically the dark froth that gathers at the top. This one is also cloudy, with darker splotches in some parts.
Smell: Medicinal. Eucalyptus? A bit like lemon candy, too.
Taste: It tastes like medicine, like cough syrup. I asked my sister to try it for a second opinion, because it tasted like something very specific from our childhood, but while she said medicine, she couldn't narrow it down any further. Cough syrup it remains - or what cough syrup should have tasted like, had it actually been taken with honey."
Today's short piece is another of my favorites from the book - the one with the ravens. Like the story with the ring, it has a strong flavour of autobiography to it - it's probably not autobiographical, entirely, in that it has a very strong element of fantasy to it, but it feels autobiographical; it's told using an autobiographical voice. I think, if I were organizing the various pieces of the collection in separate books, I'd put this one in with the ring story - the voice is similar enough that you could weave some sort of narrative between them, and have it all work nicely. I'd like to read that book, actually.
Today's honey, though, I do not think I would like it at all.
"Day 18 - Manuka Honey
Colour: Mulled cider - but more specifically the dark froth that gathers at the top. This one is also cloudy, with darker splotches in some parts.
Smell: Medicinal. Eucalyptus? A bit like lemon candy, too.
Taste: It tastes like medicine, like cough syrup. I asked my sister to try it for a second opinion, because it tasted like something very specific from our childhood, but while she said medicine, she couldn't narrow it down any further. Cough syrup it remains - or what cough syrup should have tasted like, had it actually been taken with honey."
Today's short piece is another of my favorites from the book - the one with the ravens. Like the story with the ring, it has a strong flavour of autobiography to it - it's probably not autobiographical, entirely, in that it has a very strong element of fantasy to it, but it feels autobiographical; it's told using an autobiographical voice. I think, if I were organizing the various pieces of the collection in separate books, I'd put this one in with the ring story - the voice is similar enough that you could weave some sort of narrative between them, and have it all work nicely. I'd like to read that book, actually.
Today's honey, though, I do not think I would like it at all.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 17 (2/17/2011)
"Day 17 - Ugandan Honey
Colour: Cloudy mulled cider - mulled because the crystallised chunks in it make me thing of orange peel.
Smell: Carob molasses and hay.
Taste: A savoury flavour: black olives and smoked cheese. It's so unusual, so earthy."*
A short piece of fiction today, a story of a land where the honey is highly sustaining - an ounce will feed a family for a month - and sacrificial bees. It doesn't need anything else, but it seems to call out for more story - I don't know if that makes sense. There are some pieces in the book which seem incomplete, and so seem to demand additional narration, and there are other pieces which are so complete in themselves that there is no need for more. This is neither - it is complete, the cycle of narration is closed, and yet it feels like the beginning of something bigger - it seems a waste of some beautifully descriptive prose for it to go no further. Basically, there are several pieces in this collection that I would love to see expanded, simply to experience more of the world they describe.
*This is intriguing. There are several honeys in the collection that I would like to try, but this is the first one that I have tried to find for purchase - without success. I did find a site dedicated to Ugandan honey, but there was no way to buy it, short of going to Uganda.
Colour: Cloudy mulled cider - mulled because the crystallised chunks in it make me thing of orange peel.
Smell: Carob molasses and hay.
Taste: A savoury flavour: black olives and smoked cheese. It's so unusual, so earthy."*
A short piece of fiction today, a story of a land where the honey is highly sustaining - an ounce will feed a family for a month - and sacrificial bees. It doesn't need anything else, but it seems to call out for more story - I don't know if that makes sense. There are some pieces in the book which seem incomplete, and so seem to demand additional narration, and there are other pieces which are so complete in themselves that there is no need for more. This is neither - it is complete, the cycle of narration is closed, and yet it feels like the beginning of something bigger - it seems a waste of some beautifully descriptive prose for it to go no further. Basically, there are several pieces in this collection that I would love to see expanded, simply to experience more of the world they describe.
*This is intriguing. There are several honeys in the collection that I would like to try, but this is the first one that I have tried to find for purchase - without success. I did find a site dedicated to Ugandan honey, but there was no way to buy it, short of going to Uganda.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 16 (2/16/2011)
"Day 16 - Blueberry Honey
Colour: The exact shade and clarity of apple juice from concentrate.
Smell: Juicy-sweet, with such a faint blueberry scent I could almost swear I was imagining it. But I'm more sure it's there.
Taste: Blue and cold. Water on a bright day, so blue as to challenge those who would call the water colourless, a sky-mirror. It's a deep blue, and it's a liquid honey, the flexible kind that spindles itself into shapes when stretched. Active, passionate, deep."
A poem of all consuming passion, blank verse. I thought the metaphor was a little conventional, but Amal pushes and pulls it nicely into her own shape, resulting in a largely satisfying finished product. It's not the best piece in the book, but it's strong and good anyway.
Colour: The exact shade and clarity of apple juice from concentrate.
Smell: Juicy-sweet, with such a faint blueberry scent I could almost swear I was imagining it. But I'm more sure it's there.
Taste: Blue and cold. Water on a bright day, so blue as to challenge those who would call the water colourless, a sky-mirror. It's a deep blue, and it's a liquid honey, the flexible kind that spindles itself into shapes when stretched. Active, passionate, deep."
A poem of all consuming passion, blank verse. I thought the metaphor was a little conventional, but Amal pushes and pulls it nicely into her own shape, resulting in a largely satisfying finished product. It's not the best piece in the book, but it's strong and good anyway.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 15 (2/15/2011)
eta: linky
"Day 15 - Hungarian Forest Honey
Colour: A cloudy orange-yellow, which, in the first light I held it to, made me think of extra virgin olive oil. In the current light, more of an apple cider.
Smell: Hay, brown sugar, molasses. I held this vial in hot water for about a minute because it was too crystallized to draw enough out on the wand; prior to heating I thought it smelled a bit resinous, but I can't find a trace of that now.
Taste: Brown sugar - cookies! No aftertaste - elusive, like it makes an appearance on request, then vanishes when you aren't paying attention. Also a taste of dark raisins."
Today's story is one of my favorite in the collection; a short story about a ring lost and returned, simply packed with magic and wonder of a very quiet sort. I'd love a little bit more about the sisters here; their world is fascinating. Despite that, this story is complete in and of itself, and doesn't ask for anything more - very nice.
"Day 15 - Hungarian Forest Honey
Colour: A cloudy orange-yellow, which, in the first light I held it to, made me think of extra virgin olive oil. In the current light, more of an apple cider.
Smell: Hay, brown sugar, molasses. I held this vial in hot water for about a minute because it was too crystallized to draw enough out on the wand; prior to heating I thought it smelled a bit resinous, but I can't find a trace of that now.
Taste: Brown sugar - cookies! No aftertaste - elusive, like it makes an appearance on request, then vanishes when you aren't paying attention. Also a taste of dark raisins."
Today's story is one of my favorite in the collection; a short story about a ring lost and returned, simply packed with magic and wonder of a very quiet sort. I'd love a little bit more about the sisters here; their world is fascinating. Despite that, this story is complete in and of itself, and doesn't ask for anything more - very nice.
The Honey Month, Day 14 (posted 2/15/2011)
So, yeah, circumstances conspired against my plan to post this when I got in last night. Basically, I didn't get in until this morning, at which point I was more concerned with setting up the basinette again, and feeding the various beasts, and falling asleep myself. Anyway, here is yesterday's post.
"Day 14 - Raspberry Honey*
Colour: The dark gold of apple juice, or strong green tea.
Smell: Brown honey smells, hay and a bit of molasses.
Taste: Texture-wise: tending towards crystallising,but not there yet. Almost gelatinous on the wand, but there are bits dreaming of being sugar clumps when I put it against my tongue. It's sweet - dries your mouth out. It makes me thing of flower petals, of attar, without tasting of any particular king that I can distinguish."
A short, sweet poem today - a love song to Night and Sleep - this would have been quite apropos yesterday, because it was Valentine's Day, and because I wanted very much to be asleep, and not driving through snow and wind gusts.
*No, she didn't do Raspberry already - that was Raspberry CREAMED Honey.
"Day 14 - Raspberry Honey*
Colour: The dark gold of apple juice, or strong green tea.
Smell: Brown honey smells, hay and a bit of molasses.
Taste: Texture-wise: tending towards crystallising,but not there yet. Almost gelatinous on the wand, but there are bits dreaming of being sugar clumps when I put it against my tongue. It's sweet - dries your mouth out. It makes me thing of flower petals, of attar, without tasting of any particular king that I can distinguish."
A short, sweet poem today - a love song to Night and Sleep - this would have been quite apropos yesterday, because it was Valentine's Day, and because I wanted very much to be asleep, and not driving through snow and wind gusts.
*No, she didn't do Raspberry already - that was Raspberry CREAMED Honey.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
The Honey Month, day 13 (2/13/2011)
eta: link added
"Day 13 - Black Locust Blossom Honey
Colour: White-gold dawn.
Smell: White flowers tucked into honeycomb. A watery white flower - lotus, or lily.
Taste: Like fruit and flowers and sugar. This is one to pour onto pancakes; very liquid-sweet, and when I say fruit I mean something between green grapes and yellowgages* without the sour skin. Juicy sweet is this."
Another villanelle today, with a lovely sprightly rhythm, almost bouncy. Hints of Ulysses ad maybe Gaiman's Sandman here - for all the bounciness, a dark tale of addiction. A cautionary tale - be careful what you wish for; you might get it.
* It's a yellow plum; the little ones that you find at the farmer's market towards the end of August. When they are truly ripe, they are fantastic; but too far in either direction - not ripe or over ripe - and they're revolting.
---------------------------------------------------------------
A note on what's going on here. Two years ago, Amal El-Mohtar began a month long exploration of a variety of honeys, tasting and describing each, and then writing a short piece of fiction, or a poem, or something of that nature which was inspired by the honey of the day. Last year, these posts were collected into a short book - more formal than a simple chapbook, perhaps - called The Honey Month, which I reviewed when it came out. My biggest problem, at that time, was that I ploughed through the book too quickly, and so I resolved to do a more careful reading of it at a later date. That later date is now - the posts were originally a February project, and so there are 28 honey days. This is now February, and I cannot think of a better time to slowly read poems and stories about honey. The material in quotation marks is the description of the day's honey, from the book (so that you get a good taste of Amal's lovely writing), what follows that is a brief thought about the piece of poetry or fiction of that day from yours truly.
In addition to my daily reviews, Amal has been re-running the original posts with what she is describing as "DVD Extras," some commentary on the piece for the day, some discussion of the differences between the original post and the finished piece in the book, and some delicious LJ Honey Month icons. The first of the re-runs is here, and I have been linking the appropriate post via the daily title, above, as the post becomes available. Amal is currently in England (because she is fabulous), and so her sense of what time it is and my sense of what time it is are somewhat askew. And that's ok.
"Day 13 - Black Locust Blossom Honey
Colour: White-gold dawn.
Smell: White flowers tucked into honeycomb. A watery white flower - lotus, or lily.
Taste: Like fruit and flowers and sugar. This is one to pour onto pancakes; very liquid-sweet, and when I say fruit I mean something between green grapes and yellowgages* without the sour skin. Juicy sweet is this."
Another villanelle today, with a lovely sprightly rhythm, almost bouncy. Hints of Ulysses ad maybe Gaiman's Sandman here - for all the bounciness, a dark tale of addiction. A cautionary tale - be careful what you wish for; you might get it.
* It's a yellow plum; the little ones that you find at the farmer's market towards the end of August. When they are truly ripe, they are fantastic; but too far in either direction - not ripe or over ripe - and they're revolting.
---------------------------------------------------------------
A note on what's going on here. Two years ago, Amal El-Mohtar began a month long exploration of a variety of honeys, tasting and describing each, and then writing a short piece of fiction, or a poem, or something of that nature which was inspired by the honey of the day. Last year, these posts were collected into a short book - more formal than a simple chapbook, perhaps - called The Honey Month, which I reviewed when it came out. My biggest problem, at that time, was that I ploughed through the book too quickly, and so I resolved to do a more careful reading of it at a later date. That later date is now - the posts were originally a February project, and so there are 28 honey days. This is now February, and I cannot think of a better time to slowly read poems and stories about honey. The material in quotation marks is the description of the day's honey, from the book (so that you get a good taste of Amal's lovely writing), what follows that is a brief thought about the piece of poetry or fiction of that day from yours truly.
In addition to my daily reviews, Amal has been re-running the original posts with what she is describing as "DVD Extras," some commentary on the piece for the day, some discussion of the differences between the original post and the finished piece in the book, and some delicious LJ Honey Month icons. The first of the re-runs is here, and I have been linking the appropriate post via the daily title, above, as the post becomes available. Amal is currently in England (because she is fabulous), and so her sense of what time it is and my sense of what time it is are somewhat askew. And that's ok.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Honey Month, day 12 (2/12/2011)
"Day 12 - Red Gum Honey
Colour: Another in the white wine series. This one has much of dawn over rivers to it, says Italian Pinot Grigio to me.
Smell: Pie crusts just shy of brown. A hint of molasses.
Taste: A perfect honey. It's all gold brown and dark sugar, all mellow, its texture that languorous liquid that makes women sing slow like honey in aching voices. It has this beautiful elasticity to it; I can twirl it around the imp's wand like I'm using it to sign my name. There's a vanilla flavour here, that must be the baking association. But it also casts my mind back to the first honeys I tasted, and I can't remember at all, now, when I first tasted honey - I think it must have been in a pita wrap with cheese, that's how my mother would have served it. I'll have to ask her. Meantime it's childhood and my grandmother and the word assal, and while I'm acutely aware of the each lovelier than the last dynamic in most of these descriptions, I think this is my favourite one to date."
Oh! Another languorous sensuous poem, quite delicious, and full of tempting innuendo. Unrequited love, in a triangle this time - I love him, and he loves her, and she won't be caught by whatever he does - sweet, and a little sad. I hesitate to call it a perfect poem, because what is that beast, anyway, but it is lovely. I would add nothing, I would remove nothing, and so it should be in the consideration for poetic perfection, if such exists.
Colour: Another in the white wine series. This one has much of dawn over rivers to it, says Italian Pinot Grigio to me.
Smell: Pie crusts just shy of brown. A hint of molasses.
Taste: A perfect honey. It's all gold brown and dark sugar, all mellow, its texture that languorous liquid that makes women sing slow like honey in aching voices. It has this beautiful elasticity to it; I can twirl it around the imp's wand like I'm using it to sign my name. There's a vanilla flavour here, that must be the baking association. But it also casts my mind back to the first honeys I tasted, and I can't remember at all, now, when I first tasted honey - I think it must have been in a pita wrap with cheese, that's how my mother would have served it. I'll have to ask her. Meantime it's childhood and my grandmother and the word assal, and while I'm acutely aware of the each lovelier than the last dynamic in most of these descriptions, I think this is my favourite one to date."
Oh! Another languorous sensuous poem, quite delicious, and full of tempting innuendo. Unrequited love, in a triangle this time - I love him, and he loves her, and she won't be caught by whatever he does - sweet, and a little sad. I hesitate to call it a perfect poem, because what is that beast, anyway, but it is lovely. I would add nothing, I would remove nothing, and so it should be in the consideration for poetic perfection, if such exists.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 10 (2/10/2011)
"Day 10 - French Rhododendron Honey
Colour: The colour of sugar dissolving in hot water; that white cloudiness, with a faint yellow tint I can only see when looking at it slantwise, to the left of me, not when I hold it up to the light.
Smell: Strange, it has almost no scent at all; it's also crystallized, so it's a bit difficult to scoop some out with the wand, but it smells cold with an elusive citrus squirt hovering about its edges.
Taste: There is a kind of sugar cube my grandfather used to give my sister and me every morning when we were small, not so much a cube as a cabochon, irregularly rounded, clear and cloudy by turns. It was called sikkar nabet, which is "plant sugar." This tastes like it. The honey taste is so pale, so faint, it really is almost sugar water. I'm reminded of maple sap in buckets, right at the beginning of the boiling process that produces maple syrup, where it's still water enough to be used for steeping tea."
Two haiku today
One which is written in French
Is this showing off?
My French is only really good enough to approximate the second haiku, but they seem to be a matched set, one replying to the other from opposite sides of the Atlantic, with the moon as the pivot. They are both ethereal and lovely, as (well written) haiku tend to be. There is a continuity there, as well - as the honey recalls Amal's grandfather's sugar candy (and I went looking for some sort of link or image of sikkar nabet, and could not find one), the first haiku recalls the second, and both recall the sugar candy - delightful.
Colour: The colour of sugar dissolving in hot water; that white cloudiness, with a faint yellow tint I can only see when looking at it slantwise, to the left of me, not when I hold it up to the light.
Smell: Strange, it has almost no scent at all; it's also crystallized, so it's a bit difficult to scoop some out with the wand, but it smells cold with an elusive citrus squirt hovering about its edges.
Taste: There is a kind of sugar cube my grandfather used to give my sister and me every morning when we were small, not so much a cube as a cabochon, irregularly rounded, clear and cloudy by turns. It was called sikkar nabet, which is "plant sugar." This tastes like it. The honey taste is so pale, so faint, it really is almost sugar water. I'm reminded of maple sap in buckets, right at the beginning of the boiling process that produces maple syrup, where it's still water enough to be used for steeping tea."
Two haiku today
One which is written in French
Is this showing off?
My French is only really good enough to approximate the second haiku, but they seem to be a matched set, one replying to the other from opposite sides of the Atlantic, with the moon as the pivot. They are both ethereal and lovely, as (well written) haiku tend to be. There is a continuity there, as well - as the honey recalls Amal's grandfather's sugar candy (and I went looking for some sort of link or image of sikkar nabet, and could not find one), the first haiku recalls the second, and both recall the sugar candy - delightful.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 9 (2/9/2011)
eta: link is up now.
"Day 9 - Zambian Honey
Colour: Mulled cider; caramelized orange peels.
Smell: Dry and fresh at once, like a windy wheat field. Sunshine - my first impression. Spring sunshine, golden without heat, because the wind's stolen it away. But also earth; not damp, but not cracked dry. Earth just shy of being dust, caked gold.
Taste: This is the first of the honeys to have crystallised in the vial; I drew the wand out covered in chunks. Oh, and it is dry and burnished, caramel tones, burnt-sugar tasting and thick, strong; close to buckwheat honey, that distinctive taste, brown. Makes me think of the scent of beeswax, and the darker colours of it, too."
A nice poem of unrequited love with dry baked earth and bees as potent metaphors. Irregular meter, and occasional rhymes. Simple, short, sweet, and a little sad.
"Day 9 - Zambian Honey
Colour: Mulled cider; caramelized orange peels.
Smell: Dry and fresh at once, like a windy wheat field. Sunshine - my first impression. Spring sunshine, golden without heat, because the wind's stolen it away. But also earth; not damp, but not cracked dry. Earth just shy of being dust, caked gold.
Taste: This is the first of the honeys to have crystallised in the vial; I drew the wand out covered in chunks. Oh, and it is dry and burnished, caramel tones, burnt-sugar tasting and thick, strong; close to buckwheat honey, that distinctive taste, brown. Makes me think of the scent of beeswax, and the darker colours of it, too."
A nice poem of unrequited love with dry baked earth and bees as potent metaphors. Irregular meter, and occasional rhymes. Simple, short, sweet, and a little sad.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
The Honey Month, Day 8 (2/8/2011)
"Day 8 - Raspberry Creamed Honey
Colour: Close to cognac but a little lighter, with a hint of pale pink rose when the light shines through it; also, very evenly cloudy.
Smell: Hmm. Similarly to the peach creamed honey, there's an unpleasantness - an odd non-food smell, like sugared belly-button fuzz*, and warm.
Taste: Pure raspberries. Raspberries made golden. Tart sharpness made smooth, and it's amazing. Much clearer fruit taste than the other creamed honeys so far."
Ooooo, another example of dreamy magic realism, delicious. As Amal's DVD extra for today suggests (I'm late in posting today), this piece is a little meta, but I think it works perfectly well without the back story too. It's a beautiful piece of writing which, like yesterday's, hints at a bigger narrative while standing entirely on its own.
No discussion of belly-button fuzz within the story, though - only flaw.
*ummm, ok, ewww?
Colour: Close to cognac but a little lighter, with a hint of pale pink rose when the light shines through it; also, very evenly cloudy.
Smell: Hmm. Similarly to the peach creamed honey, there's an unpleasantness - an odd non-food smell, like sugared belly-button fuzz*, and warm.
Taste: Pure raspberries. Raspberries made golden. Tart sharpness made smooth, and it's amazing. Much clearer fruit taste than the other creamed honeys so far."
Ooooo, another example of dreamy magic realism, delicious. As Amal's DVD extra for today suggests (I'm late in posting today), this piece is a little meta, but I think it works perfectly well without the back story too. It's a beautiful piece of writing which, like yesterday's, hints at a bigger narrative while standing entirely on its own.
No discussion of belly-button fuzz within the story, though - only flaw.
*ummm, ok, ewww?
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