Q: Your new book, Honeybee, was released in March 2008. The poems and vignettes quite eloquently discuss the interconnectedness of human beings with each other and with the environment. How did the honeybee come to symbolize this type of connection in your mind?

NSN: Exactly a year ago, news stories were breaking about the mysterious “disappearance of the honeybee”—at least a quarter or a third of the entire honeybee population—which caused great concern. I’d been worrying about a lot of things, but the honeybee was not among them. Suddenly, its absence was everywhere. The honeybee, with its attractive and crucial pollinating habits, and human beings—our precious emphasis on education and culture and “do unto others” in a world of…war?—layered together like an insomniac’s 2 a.m. casserole. What was up here? What was wrong? What should we be noticing? What kind of attention might help us now? Thanks for understanding this connection…

Q: The 2008 summer reading theme for young adults is “Metamorphosis.” What types of metamorphosis take place within the pages of Honeybee? How might Honeybee enlighten young people about the promise and inevitable nature of change?

NSN: We might ask: In order to protect things, do we have to notice them? Each person, of any age, has a much greater capacity for awareness and imaginative thinking than we might imagine. Four-year-olds don’t miss a thing. I hope the pieces in Honeybee might be little wake-up calls, small reminders about the sweet glories of every day that we can’t take for granted. We can always stand to wake up a little more.

Q: In 2005, you wrote a book of poems for girls, A Maze Me, which discusses growing up and making choices in life. Do you think the transition between adolescence and adulthood is a metamorphosis of sorts? Do you think the transition is more challenging for girls than boys?

NSN: It’s definitely a metamorphosis period, probably harder for girls than for boys because boys don’t seem to get quite as absorbed in worries about what they look like, on top of everything else. A life with language can really help. I think we need to talk to ourselves a lot to get through periods of deep change. Poetry can be a grounding device, a befriending inner commentary on what’s going on…a big help!

Q: Going, Going is the story of one teenage girl who takes on big business because of its detrimental effects on individuality and originality. Why do you think teenagers feel so much pressure to lose their individuality as they move toward adulthood? Do you think big business is entirely at fault?

NSN: Not entirely. It has been fascinating to me to learn how many adults don’t want to think about this topic. Yet they’ll complain about depersonalized cities and towns, while they admire original people and places. I think we need to keep making that link.

Teenagers like the idea that they have power as blossoming consumers, and that the choices they make could affect the world around all of us! When I urge them to take on Florrie-esque campaigns in their own neighborhoods and communities, their eyes grow wide. This could catch on, I tell them! You’re the force!

Q: Getting back to Honeybee, the poem “The United States Is Not the World” is a beautiful tribute to the differences in the people of the world, as viewed from the airport. How can we not celebrate individuality and differences in a country that is supposed to be the melting pot for all ethnicities?

NSN: I agree, I agree! It’s our birthright, our heritage, our American calling card!

As a child in St. Louis, I was as guilty as anyone of feeling that my own experience was the central experience on earth. Because St. Louis sits right in the middle of the country, perhaps it was easier to get away with this delusion. I hope that as we live and travel and meet people who don’t match us exactly, we learn how many centers there are. Everywhere is a center. Everyone is a leading character! In Amsterdam I felt so refreshed by the boarding gate to Delhi, India—as if we passengers had all slid right back into the international fabric and texture of living . . . and it was delicious.

Q: Another poem in Honeybee, “The Cost,” is a stirring assessment of the challenge facing librarians and educators today—and the challenges that young people face as a consequence. You point out that elementary school librarians and counselors are eliminated due to lack of funds, depriving young people of good books and good advice. Then the policy makers wonder why violence is on the rise. When do you think we lost sight of the importance of arts and humanities in America? How can we get it back?

NSN: We need to keep speaking out for what matters, everywhere we can. Librarians and counselors are not luxuries. They are essential, necessary guides for an entire population. I never thought their jobs were at stake, till recently! We must give all teachers raises and continue to speak out against the enormous sums of our own tax money being funneled into dubious projects, “wars” we may not believe in at all, mysterious coffers of oppression and occupation and lobbying. . . we must speak, speak, speak. The great work being done by arts and humanities agencies continues to operate on a shoestring budget in comparison to what is spent on weapons and questionable operations worldwide.

Asking questions and being fiscally responsible is highly patriotic.

Q: Let’s discuss another type of metamorphosis. In 19 Varieties of Gazelle, you wrote a very touching and personal introduction on the aftermath of 9/11, in which you state that if grandmothers and children were in charge of the world, there wouldn’t be any wars. Isn’t it ironic that hatred and intolerance are learned—and then forgotten again—as people age? Why does it seem like these types of metamorphoses occur at opposite ends of the human life span?

NSN: Maybe when we’re recently arrived or soon-to-depart, we’re more perceptive? More open? Less inclined to wish to dominate others? Life feels more precious, fragile, immediate, when we’re very young and very old? Good question! I always tell college-age students, if they’re having trouble writing something—Go babysit. Or, go visit an elder, even—or preferably—someone you’re not related to. That will kick things back into focus.

Q: Now that summer is upon us, how would you advise librarians and educators to make reading enjoyable for young people, especially since they are accustomed to reading so extensively (and formulaically) in preparation for their standardized exams? How can we help them rediscover the joys of reading?

NSN: Try to fall in love with new voices this summer. Find more friends, branch out. Every time anyone steps into a library, it’s easy to see some of the strategies being used to encourage reading discoveries. Arrangements of books on tables—the use of themes for arrangements—such simple things! Discussion groups, you name it. I urge people to read on more than one shelf. If you haven’t read a biography or a play in a while, it’s time. Dip into poetry anthologies to find the voices that speak most to you. Then search to find more work by that person. Some teachers I met carried their five favorite recent books listed on index cards, to give to people they liked. Think of the library as the deepest discovery zone available to every literate person. Explore it all summer long and you won’t even begin to use it up. Your whole life will feel wider. Best way to travel the world there ever was. . . . I met a high school senior a few years ago who said he was embarrassed he “hadn’t found his favorite book” yet. It’s never too late! We can have a thousand favorite books.

Q: Did you enjoy reading when you were a child?

NSN: It was my favorite thing. Riding my bicycle came second.

Q: Can you remember the first book that actually leapt off the pages to become part of your life?

NSN: The Important Book, by Margaret Wise Brown. I argued with it. I thought everything was important.

Q: When did you realize that you had the talent to sustain a writing career?

NSN: I would call it more of a habit than a talent, but thanks.

Q: Did you ever think you would reach so many people with your words?

NSN: The thought of reaching anyone at all continues to feel like an amazing glory beyond measure. I definitely started sending poems to magazines when I was seven, with the thought, “If someone I never met before reads this and likes it, we’ll be secret friends.” That thought goes on.

Q: What’s the message you would like all readers to take away from Honeybee?

NSN: The rich pollen of every day waits for us in every minute. Dip in, dip in.