71 pages • 2 hours read
Sofía Segovia, Transl. Simon BruniA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
The Murmur of Bees details a complex Mexican society in which an unspoken, universal recognition of two basic populations—a privileged upper class and an unprivileged lower class—affects all aspects of life. Segovia differentiates between these two tiers not by overtly naming them but through distinct descriptions of each. For example, the upper-class Morales family is depicted as being fair skinned, steeped in traditional rituals, devoutly Catholic, and deeply concerned about maintaining established standards of propriety. By contrast, Segovia depicts lower-class individuals like Nana Reja and Anselmo as dark-skinned, rooted in superstitious beliefs, and largely ignorant of the regimented social interactions of the landowner class. The author implies that the upper class is composed largely of Spanish descendants and the lower-class of Indigenous peoples descended from inhabitants before Europeans arrived.
Segovia reveals the mindsets of the two groups by describing their desires and fears. The upper-class population is fully invested in maintaining social mores dating back to Spanish occupation: festivals, rites of passage, property succession, and church ties. Land ownership is an assumed, unquestioned right among members of this group. Many upper-class individuals, particularly Beatriz and Francisco, perceive themselves as responsible for the welfare of the lower-class individuals within their purview. Thus, when the Spanish flu pandemic hits Linares, Francisco takes those house staff and hacienda campesinos who haven’t risked exposure with his family when they quarantine. One of the main reasons Beatriz is overcome with anguish when an assailant murders her servant Lupita is that she promised Lupita’s mother that she’d protect the young Indigenous woman when she became a servant of the Morales family. This arrangement hearkens back to the serf/lord relationship of medieval Europe, in which peasants provided a portion of their harvest and goods to the nobility, who in return offered protection. Francisco’s investment in this assumed relationship blinds him to the possibility that certain campesinos would distrust the relationship and rebel violently against landowners.
While most of the lower-class characters Segovia describes are cooperatively subservient, it’s historically accurate that many Mexicans—particularly descendants of Indigenous tribes, such as Anselmo and the roving agrarians—struggled against institutionalized inequality. The revolution, waged over a full decade, did little to address the disparity between the classes apart from instituting a new constitution with some provisions that potentially offered greater equality. As Segovia depicts those developments, the landowner class tended to view the agrarian reforms as annoying challenges around which they worked to preserve their traditional advantages. The author describes the beginning of an era in which certain parts of Mexico shift from an agrarian to an industrial economy—but in which the shift from a rural to an urban society doesn’t impact class disparities, and these disparities persist today.
Segovia clearly expresses the motives and thinking of the narrative’s male characters but to a greater extent explores the intellectual, spiritual, and emotional worlds of the women. The author describes the abject grief of Nana Reja when she wanders into Linares carrying her deceased infant son, as well as the surprise she feels when the medical doctor who examines her doesn’t attempt to force sexual relations. At the other extreme, Segovia describes the frantic fearfulness of Carmen, Beatriz’s privileged 15-year-old daughter, who imagines her beau has died of the flu when she receives no mail from him. By describing the actions of the some of the women, Segovia opens their hearts. For example, though Lupita never overtly expresses her feelings, the unrevealed attraction she feels for Martín is clear, and the distaste she feels toward Anselmo is obvious, as she swiftly brushes off his request to dance. In a graphic passage, Segovia reveals the fighting spirit, terror, and grief Lupita feels as Anselmo attacks her.
More than any other character, the author examines the internal world of Beatriz, which is a catalog of the conditions and emotions that women of the landowner class of her era experienced. Beatriz deals with fear by preparing her home and servants for the worst possibilities, as when, believing Reja died in the wilderness, she orders a casket built. When unable to return to her home during the pandemic, she responds by compulsively sewing clothes, blankets, and dolls for people who may no longer live. When Father Pedro commands her to pray for the murderer of her servant Lupita, she silently refuses, instead confessing her unwillingness to God, who she believes would condemn her hypocrisy for praying insincerely. When the assassination of her husband and disappearance of her son overcome Beatriz’s ability to subdue her emotions, she calls out of the depth of longing to the trusted one who has never failed her: Simonopio.
One characteristic that all the narrative’s women share—regardless of their class and social position—is the limitation of their agency within a patriarchal society. Tradition and subordination to men create boundaries for their actions, decisions, and abilities. This reality offers women some security yet renders them relatively powerless. For example, Anselmo’s wife has no recourse when he asks her to go into Linares to buy his tobacco, even though she knows a deadly disease is ravaging the town. Beatriz knows exactly what’s required of her when the quarantine ends, as she quickly restores their home and reestablishes social ties. Knowing, however, that she must sit and mourn rather than search for her missing son after her husband’s death weighs her down with unbearable helplessness. Once Beatriz becomes the head of her family, after Francisco’s death, she asserts her judgment firmly. In this, Segovia demonstrates what can happen when a woman escapes the customary limitations.
Just as Segovia points out the great disparity between the classes without editorially commenting on or condemning it, she describes another unspoken conflict prevalent throughout the novel: the unacknowledged distinction between faith in the church and faith in the bees. Most characters in the novel participate in church rituals on large and small scales. Upper-class citizens constantly interact with the church, whether for timely ritual or social purposes. For example, Carmen and Antonio seek Father Pedro’s blessing before proceeding with their engagement; and because Francisco dies unanointed, three funeral masses must be recited over him. Desiring to provide an education for the campesino’s children, Beatriz offers to pay for them to attend church schools, which Francisco secretly funds. During times of crisis, citizens offer rote prayers; when tragedy strikes, they pray for deliverance; and when something good happens, they say prayers of thanksgiving for what the priest refers to as undeserved blessings. Segovia frequently points out the connection between the church and the landowner class. After the revolution, to eliminate the supposed stifling influence of the church, public sacraments became illegal, forcing many religious services underground.
Through Simonopio’s bees, Segovia introduces another spiritual element. The bees cover the abandoned infant after his birth and remain with him always. The bees grant spherical sight to Simonopio, allowing him to look into the past, into the future, and into the hearts of humans. Although Beatriz and Francisco wouldn’t consider their faith in Simonopio a religious practice, both of them explicitly trust the boy’s judgment and insight, which Simonopio recognizes as a gift from the bees.
The author never directly contrasts these two spiritual domains, although distinct points in the narrative could be construed as mocking the leadership of the church and some of its tenets. For example, the author lingers on the folly of young Father Emigdio, the assistant pastor of the parish who assumes that a pandemic survivor, Lázaro, has returned from the dead with a vision of heaven and that “the epidemic was the fault of the socialist, apostate Spanish who strayed even further from the church” (67), when in fact the pandemic didn’t begin in Spain. In contrast, the passages in which the bees have an influence make it clear that they always deliver in times of need. For example, when Francisco worries about the loss of his land due to the new agrarian laws, he experiences a revelation about planting orange groves after Simonopio presents him with orange blossoms, courtesy of the bees. When Beatriz puts her faith in Simonopio, led by the bees, to return her missing son, her hopes are fulfilled. The author depicts the church as offering little substance for the Morales family, while the bees never fail.
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