A Honeybee Heart Has Five Openings, by Helen Jukes
I picked up this book to learn about bees, but before they came up, I was hooked by Jukes herself. Warm, honest, questioning, she’s a thoroughly engaging narrator of both her own life and those of the insects. Living in Oxford and working a job that’s more stressful than satisfying, she keeps thinking about her brief experience helping a beekeeper friend. Though she has no confidence she can do it on her own, she can’t resist trying and soon has a hive in her urban backyard. Worrying constantly about the needs of the bees, she does extensive research on their habits and the history of beekeeping, and her reports—on the differences between workers and drones, the various kinds of hives, the practice of the waggle dance, the intricacies of swarming—are vivid, succinct, and slightly wonder-struck. Jukes is especially interested in the evolution of the relationship between keepers and bees and her attachment to her own colony gradually deepens to a thing of beauty and resonance; for everything she learns about the bees, they teach her as much about herself.