So, I’ve been reading the books, shaking my tailfeathers to the rock music, and doing a bit of traveling. How have you been?
The last thing I actually got all the way through—Gorjus HQ is littered with half-read books—was Elizabeth Kostova’s The Historian. I saw an ad for it in the New Yorker, and thought, I really want to read something sprawling + fun—like Stephen King for grown-ups, you know? And yes, I liked The Da Vinci Code. Seriously. Sure, it read like a script pitch at Dreamworks, but so what? It was fun, and smart(esque).
Which, The Historian was not. So much, anyways. I loved the conceit of the story—a woman begins to understand her family deeper by probing their secret history, which is centered around . . . hunting down Dracula!! Yeah, I thought that was gonna be cool, and it’s still a great premise, but the story ended up quite wooden, with characters who were little more than cariactures.
(This is not to address the terribly inconsistent internal mythology which the comic fan in me was annoyed with. Was Dracula supernatural or not? Was he “allergic” to religious symbols or not? Because it kept changing during the story.)
Worse were the deus ex machinas that littered the length of the 656 pages. The characters will meet a new character, who will then reveal information that will leave the protagonists breathless. And the reader? Confused. I tried explaining it to Sally by way of example.
Gorjus: Gasp!! Sally—today I received in the mail—a letter from Las Vegas!
Sally: Gasp!! Was it . . . a signed letter?
Gorjus: Yes! And it is about . . . a wedding in Las Vegas!!
Sally: Gasp!! You can’t mean that! Because if there is a wedding . . .
Gorjus: Yes! The Congressman might be there!!
Note: This will have been the first time that Las Vegas has been talked about. Or, weddings. And? The Congressman will be an entirely new character. Also note: this happens about once every chapter. It’s apparently a novel new storytelling device, instead of, you know, narrative or even my natural enemy—hateful, evil exposition.
Enough of that. Let’s talk about Holley Bishop’s delightful Robbing the Bees: A Biography of Honey: The Sweet Liquid Gold That Seduced the World. I was immediately intrigued by the, ahem, ad in the New Yorker (I need to send their ad department a letter so everybody can get a promotion!) which promised to unearth wonderful minutiae about things we constantly see but no longer think about (I also wanna read this!).
The coolest thing I’ve learned so far, that I should have intuitively known, is that honey tastes differently depending on the flowers the bees has plundered. So tupelo honey? Comes from tupelo blossoms. Lavender honey? From lavender flowers. And, so forth and so on. The trick is getting the bees to just go to certain flowers, or getting them to do it when those flowers are in bloom. The trained palate of a honeylover can distinguish tastes as rich and as varied as Robert Parker with a batch of California syrah.
Armed with that information, Sally & I set off in search of honey. And not just any honey—different types! Different flavors! We only ended up with a couple at the end of a Saturday of looking, but she got a bracelet with a sideways map of Mississippi on it and I got some old postcards from State & Belhaven. Of the two honeys I purchased, the “Mississippi wildflower” I got at a flea market in Byrum was amazing. It is sweet, thick yet light, and smells like a Southern summertime. And, at only four bucks, it was nearly a third cheaper than the fancy Provençe lavender we got from Williams-Sonoma, not to mention about half again more in volume, and tastier.
Random stuffs:
• There is a great story on Mississippi Farmer’s Markets you can watch here (scroll down a bit). I caught it yesterday whilst babysitting my god-dog. Afterwards I had dinner at Moe’s, giving it a chance again in light of recent discussions, and BOOOO, shame on you, Moe’s. Still yucky after all these years. But, I had good conversation with good friends and they paid, so it was actually awesome.
• Rita Schwerner Bender tells Governor Barbour why we still have a long ways to go. And why he does, especially.
• Lastly, Larry + Sally and I accidentally caught a fantastic show at Hal & Mal’s Friday night. Thao Nguyen put on the best live show I’ve seen in forever, and was cool and friendly to boot. I think one might describe her like Cat Power, if Cat Power could actually sing and play the guitar.*
Update: I have decided she has a more than a lil’ Beth Orton in her voice, and my boss says Rickie Lee Jones. But, I don’t know what Rickie Lee Jones even sounds like.
*Before I get hate-mail: I like Cat Power and have several records by her, and her re-working of Hank Williams “I Can’t Help It (If I’m Still In Love With You)” on Myra Lee is one of my favorite songs of all time. Still: Thao is whole lot better live.
You failed to note that you bought the wildflower honey from a blind Johnny Cash. I mean, sometimes I wonder about your storytelling abilities.
i might have to pick up that book, gorjus. there is a bit of a honey bee fixation in our household. and one day i hope to have our own honey comb out back. maybe we can start a jacktown beekeeper’s society, ala max fischer. i’m sure the daycare on the other side of the fence would love that. and you’re right about that wildflower honey. after finishing off our little plastic bear of commercial grade clover honey, we picked up some local wildflower honey at rainbow last week. the taste difference is amazing. – but as you point out, only stands to reason.
re: moe’s. last week we promised rose some moe’s take out, but then i remembered i had vowed never to return after too many frustrating encounters with the stoned-to-the-bone teenage help. “huhhh. you want beeeeeans on that. uhm. hey, trevor, does that burrito come with beans? ohhh. wait? black beans. uhm. i don’t know if….hold on a sec…oh yeah, black beans!” so rose and i set out to flabbergast the high school burnouts – only much to my surprise, we were greeted by an entirely new staff, and they had their shit together. the margarita machine was also noticeably absent. coincidence?
Ooooh, that Rats book you linked to looks six kinds of awesome. And yeah, more about the blind Johnny Cash, plizh.
anyone subscribe to McSweeny’s Quarterly Concern? I think i should.
Uh, what does that have to do with anything, man? I’m not saying you gotta talk about honey. I’m not saying you gotta talk about exposition or deus ex machinas or, even, bad tofu at Moe’s. But, what??
Well, yeah, the guy at the flea market was v. nearly totally blind, he could see to get around, I suppose, but had to peer very closely at the label on the honey jar to see how much it was. By which I mean, put his face on it. And, he was talky. My crazy-dar was going off, but Sally was having a good time, and the honey was totally worth it.
deus ex machinas? you gotta see “Craddle to the Grave” with DMX and Jet Li! jesus. your character at a roadblock he can’t get out of…well i’ve got an explaination: just have him say “i got this feeling” and it can mean I’m gonna incredibly guess the right place to go so i can move the plot along.
i get honey from the honey comb at the farmer’s market. we hear that having local hunny can help detox you from the allergies that one may get locally as you are sorta getting dosed w/ it.
Man, that R.S. Bender letter gave me goosebumps. Awesome stuff.