And then Kij Johnson weaves a spiderweb of prose from that first bee sting that is difficult to escape, but wonderful to behold. "At the Mouth of the River of Bees" takes the reader from "a gray sky, gray pavement and sidewalks and buildings, trees so dark they might as well be black," to the enchanting visual-scape of eastern Montana where "the honey-colored light flattens the brush and rock of the badlands into abrupt gold and violet, shapes as unreal as a hallucination."
The protagonist, Linna, touches the reader with the gentle way she cares for her dog, Sam, and Johnson does a good job of showing us, not simply telling us, how deep Linna's love runs with passages like: "Linna suddenly stoops to wrap an arm around his ribcage, to feel his warmth and the steady thumping of his heart." And, "Linna watches Sam chase something in his sleep, paws twitching in the rhythm of running. Live forever, she thinks, and wills his twisted spine and legs straight and well."
The familiar bitterness of cold coffee, the mundanity of dashboard clocks, and the quiet of small, dusty towns keeps Johnson's tale from slipping too far into dreamy imaginings, and keeps the reader anchored in reality, concerned about Linna's feelings for Sam, and a little worried about what kind of trouble Linna is getting herself into.
In this atmosphere of beautiful, dreamlike environments, and a loving and painful relationship with Sam, Linna explores the phenomenon of a living river of bees, is drawn to the mouth, and discovers the painful and wondrous secret that waits there.
Well done, Kij Johnson! I look forward to reading more of your work!