Close-up of angora sweater by Jamie Harmon.
Handmade baskets.
Prize-winning entrelac scarf.
Section of chullo.
Lace sampler.
Woven cloth.
Camel-silk blend roving from Spirit Trail Fiberworks.
Needlecases.
Prize-winning handspun.
More Spirit-Trail yarns.
Behold: the gaint pumpkin!
It's just so darn hard to figure out what is the most disgusting and offensive aspect of the Mark Foley/Congressional page scandal. But what the heck, I'll give it a try.
It's an embarassment of riches, it is.
I quite like this book and I have the feeling I'll be making many of the patterns over the course of the next few mon years.
First, let me get this out of my system: I absolutely loathe this model:
Okay, now that the petty is out of my system, I feel better. Overall, the book is stylish and nicely put together: lots of color photos, good schematics, photographs that let you get a pretty good idea of what the finished garment is supposed to look like. I might have chosen a slightly darker ink (the patterns are printed in a taupe color that might require a good reading lamp for some) but this is a minor quibble. There is a brief how-to-knit section but it doesn't monopolize the book, and since many of these patterns are user-friendly for beginner knitters, this seems appropriate. There are also brief sections on finishing, how to read charts and other skills beyond knitting and purling which will help a newer knitter achieve more professional results.
On to the patterns. The patterns are organized into three sections, by yarn weight. The first set of patterns use DK-weight yarn (5.5 sts to the inch), the second worsted (5 to the inch), and the third use aran-weight yarn (4.5 to the inch). All the designs in the book are shown in Louisa Harding's yarns, several of which I've seen at Rosie's and look to be quite nice. But since these are probably the three most popular weights of yarn, substitution should be very easy and I'd be surprised if you couldn't find at least one pattern that you could readily make from your stash. I never really thought about categorizing designs by weight but I like it. It saves you the bother of flipping through each section trying to remember which pattern might match the gauge on which yarn.
The patterns are indeed classic in the sense that they don't feature excessively trendy design elements. These are the kinds of basic sweaters that may not be the most challenging knitting, and may not have the masterpiece cachet of an Alice Starmore fair isle or an intricate lace shawl, but I suspect they will be the garments you reach for time and time again, the old faithfuls. I see armholes that are nipped in, some patterns with body shaping while others are straight, and design touches that will add some interest to the knitting while not requiring superhuman powers of concentration, such as a single cable that runs down the front of a sweater, or a band of stranded colorwork (especially lovely) that runs across the bottom hem and sleeve cuffs like so:
The size ranges are excellent: Harding gives a whopping six sizes for each pattern, to fit bust size 32 through 42 (even numbers). Rock on, Louisa. The patterns are rated on a scale of 1 to 3 for difficulty, which will also help newer knitters select a suitable pattern.
Another feature that I like about this book, and which will increase its utility, is that different variations are given for some of the patterns. For example, a fairly simple fitted sweater is shown in three versions: turtleneck in a mohair blend multicolor, a V-neck in a multicolor angora blend, and a short-sleeve version with a scoop neck in a merino/cashmere solid-color blend. Even some of the patterns that don't feature variations in the neckline or length are shown in two different yarns, e.g., one solid and one multi. This creates a bit of extra work for the designer and her staff, requiring the knitting of a second version of the sweater for photographing, but is a nice touch for knitters who have trouble envisioning what a garment will look like in a different style of yarn.
If these sweaters are not especially cutting-edge, if they don't push the boundaries of knitting like, say, Teva Durham's Loop-d-Loop or Norah Gaughan's Knitting Nature, well, that's okay with me. These aren't meant to be boundary-busting garments; they're meant to be user-friendly, versatile patterns that you can make over and over, in different variations and with different yarns. Seasoned knitters who like designing their own stuff may want to check out the book before purchasing to see if it's worthwhile for them, or if they feel that they could whip up their own similar garments without a pattern. Knitters interested in extremely trendy looks or who want challenging garments to test their knitting mettle will also be advised to look before purchasing. But if you're like me, and sometimes you just want to turn your brain off, watch "Law and Order" and knit along with someone else's pattern, you may find this book a useful addition to your knitting library.
*Okay, what's with the MSRP of thirty-two bucks for a paperback book with twenty patterns? Hmm? Luckily, you can find it way cheaper if you look around. Don't piss me off, Martingale.
Miranda H., who bought a skein of Berripalooza sock yarn. She will receive an official Black Bunny tote bag. (The drawing was done by able assistant, J., who didn't peek one bit. I added the names of people who'd asked for special orders that I haven't finished yet, just to be fair.)
Thanks to everyone who participated in the drawing! We'll do another one before the holidays.
Comment-ary
Doing a blog is fascinating for a lot of reasons. One of them is the little snapshot of human nature you get from reader feedback. I am regularly gratified and surprised at the intelligent and downright nice commenters I have. I learn stuff, I see things in a different way, I chuckle at your anecdotes, I appreciate your encouragement and support.
Of course, there is a flip side to this. One of the quirks that you are quickly introduced to is the willingness of readers to take offense. My previous post apparently offended one such anonymous commenter, who found my description of Martingale models as "midwestern" to be, well, offensive. I've noticed this before, here and elsewhere, that no matter what one writes, eventually someone is going to find something to seize upon and be offended at. And my knee jerk response is to roll my eyes and think "Just read what I actually said! You're projecting!"
Wouldn't it be a more productive dialogue if the commenter had said simply "What do you mean when you describe the models as 'midwestern'?" Instead of heaving an annoyed sigh, my response would have been "Well, some of it is tangible, like the fact that they are predominantly white women of Western European or Scandinavian descent, shown in decidedly non-urban settings. Some of it is intangible, like the studiously classic styling a la Talbots." I might have even gone on to wonder whether describing Vogue as "very Manhattan" would offend New Yorkers, or saying that Rowan's models are "English country waifs" would offend slight Englishwomen who live in the country. Maybe I would have wondered whether I do, in fact, have some stereotypical notions of what midwestern women look like.
But she didn't. So I didn't.
On Book Reviews
This takes me to book reviews. I enjoy writing them, and as I've said before, I like to think I'm helping people get a better feel for whether a book is right for them before investing in it. FYI, here are some of the things I think about in reviewing a knitting book (in no particular order):
If there are other things you would be interested in me adding to book reviews, drop me a comment.
On sizes and hostility
One of things I often comment upon about a book is the size range of the patterns that it contains. I think that knowing whether the patterns are likely to fit you can be an important thing for many potential purchasers to consider. If you've got a limited budget for knitting books, and you like to follow patterns instead of designing your own, why buy a book filled with patterns that won't fit you?
When I mention limited size ranges, I invariably get two types of comments or emails. One is "why should a publisher have to provide sizes for everyone in the world?" I don't think every book needs to have patterns that fit every person on this planet: that would be impossible, and expensive. But I do think it's odd when a book has an extremely limited size range. It seems to me that if you are publishing a book, you'd want to attract as many purchasers as possible. Excluding a significant proportion of sizes makes it less likely that you'll attract people who fall outside your size range, and therefore constricts the pool of potential purchasers. (Maybe your book is such wonderful eye candy it won't matter, or contains instructional techniques that go beyond the patterns. Maybe not.) And if a particular size is, statistically, the most common one among American women*, then it strikes me as odd that a book would stop short of this size.
The second type of remark was typifed by the commenter (Anonymous, of course. I'm really getting to hate that bitch Anonymous. She's always stirring up trouble.) who basically said that Americans are fat and eat too much, so tough crap if they can't fit into patterns. First of all, this assumes too much. Not all women who wear above a size 10 are overweight. They may be tall, or have a larger-than-average frame (what my mother calls "big-boned"), or they may have very muscular or broad shoulders, or God (or the local plastic surgeon) may have bestowed them with big tits.
But what is even more fascinating about this kind of comment is the hostility that underlies it. There seems to be an almost vindictive attitude: if you're fat, you have no business knitting these patterns. If you're overweight, you should be at the gym or puking in the toilet instead of sitting on your fat ass knitting. Plump people don't deserve to wear floaty romantic Rowan patterns: let them wear boxy sacks instead. Whassup widdat?
Feel free to discuss. And make sure you tell me if I've offended you.
*And, Brits, too. My Google search uncovered an extensive survey of UK women showing that their average bust size is 38.5 inches, with 40.5 inch hips.
Rowan-aphiles will be familiar with Jennie Atkinson, author/compiler of Romantic Style: Knits and Crochet to Wear or Display (Martingale & Co.).
Atkinson is a frequent contributor to recent Rowan magazines, one of the newer faces in the current crop of designers favored by the British yarn manufacturer. Rowan fans will no doubt also recognize some of the other designers who've contributed to Romantic Style: Kim Hargreaves and Martin Storey, to name two. As you might expect, Romantic Style is very much in the style of current Rowan knits: floaty, ruffly, feminine, and, I suppose, romantic. There's a reason for that, which I'll go into later.
Romantic Style is the nicest book to come out of Martingale in quite some time. Instead of featuring those midwestern lady models and not-quite-contemporary-feeling photography, Romantic Style has the look and feel of a Rowan publication. More stylized photography, less Miss-America-ish models, even the layout is more sophisticated and fresh than most Martingale books I've seen. The book has lots of color photos, schematics for the sweaters, and the little photographic digest in the front showing miniphotos of all of the designs contained in the book. So far, so good.
As for content, the book is divided into three sections containing patterns (the first two knit, the third mostly crochet), and one containing techniques. The techniques section is not, however, a how-to-knit section; perhaps recognizing that many of the designs are pretty advanced for beginners, this section skips the basics, and is devoted to more specialized topics like how to crochet in rounds, different crocheted motifs and edgings, and how to follow patterns. Good stuff, all of it.
As for the patterns? The first section is called Out and About, and features seven patterns: a camisole, a beaded cape, a sheer dress, two lace sweaters, a beaded jacket and beaded shrug with hood. The second section is Home Comforts, including home dec items like a throw, two pillow covers (one square, one tubular), hanger covers, bed socks, a quaint bed jacket and a floor-length dressing gown/robe. The last section, Little Extras, includes jewelry, belts, shawls (one knit, one crochet), a cap, and two bags. For those of you who strongly prefer either knit or crochet, that amounts to sixteen knit patterns and seven crochet ones.
Whether you like the patterns or not is largely a matter of taste, but rest assured these are not boxy bulky sweaters made from rectangles. Lots of stitch patterns and lace are used, several designs are beaded, there are edgings and ruffles galore, and the shapes are generally hugging and body-conscious. There are not tons of items that I personally would wear, but again, this is more a matter of taste than anything else. As is always the case with predominantly pattern-based books, let the buyer beware by checking out the patterns beforehand.
A few things will, however, stop me from giving the book a vigorous thumbs-up.
First is the relative impracticality of most of the designs. A floor-length bathrobe made from nearly 20 balls of worsted weight yarn will be pretty heavy, will cost you close to $200, and, since the specified yarn is a wool/mohair blend, is likely to make you sweat. The hanger covers are elegant, but at 7.75 sts per inch in an intricate pattern, is there anyone out there with the time (or desire) to make more than one knowing you're only going to cover them up by hanging clothes on them? The lace bed socks are lovely, but you better not expect to wear them when you're actually intending to walk around on a floor. As a suburban, time-crunched soccer mom, many of these designs just aren't gonna cut it for me, but again, this is largely a matter of taste. If you have a less wash-n-wear style, and regularly attend tea parties in boudoirs, then you may not care.
Second, and a bigger stumbling block for most of us, is the ugly reality of the sizing. Yep, you guessed it, this is a book with an extremely stingy range of sizes. The dressing gown has exactly two sizes, an "extra-small/small" and a "medium/large." Or to put it more accurately, "teeny" and "slightly less small." For the smaller size is for a 32 to 34-inch bust, and the other is for a 36 to 38-inch bust -- hardly "large." (Especially in this brave new world of breast implants.) Other garments only go as high as a 40-inch bust (with two inches of ease). If you are more amply figured, then you'll either have to modify or give up the sweaters in this book.
The last drawback to this book is the recycling factor. I'm all for recycling when it comes to aluminum cans and newspapers; I'm not so big on recyling when it comes to knitting pattern books. Astute Rowan fans will note that many of these patterns have already been published in Rowan Magazine. To wit:
and I lost patience there, since that's already something like 25% of the patterns that I easily identified as having been recycled. Shame on Martingale and Rowan for not disclosing this, even in small type on one of the introductory pages. Why take the chance of tricking your loyal fans into buying patterns they already have?
To sum up, if you are a petite Rowan-loving woman who doesn't mind dumping $200 for a bathrobe that won't soak up bathwater, and you don't already have all of these patterns in your extensive Rowan collection, then by all means take a look at this book. If, however, like me, you already have most of them, and they won't fit you even if you make them, and even if you made them, you'd probably never wear them, then just go and buy some sock yarn with that twenty bucks instead.
In the hobbies and crafts category, knitting began to take hold about six years ago; no one knows why. But in a post-9/11 world, the activity has continued to increase in popularity. Publishers, of course, have responded with books and more books. But now comes the challenging part. Is knitting on the verge of becoming a widely established American hobby (like, say, gardening) or is it headed for the fate of philately*?
Trisha Malcolm, Vogue Knitting's editor, is quoted in the article saying that VK is trying to focus less on patterns, which can go out of style and look dated quickly, and more toward books like the Vogue Stitchionary series, which catalogue stitch patterns. This is great for adventurous knitters and those who like to design their own items, but there's also a population of knitters who enjoy following patterns that someone else has figured out. There's a great deal of trial and error in designing, and these knitters would rather let someone else do the trying and erring. I can relate: sometimes I just feel like following a pattern and letting my brain take a breather.
I have no grand answers for you about the future of publishing knitting books. I love books, though, and I love knitting, so it stands to reason that I love knitting books -- or at least, good knitting books. And if for every couple of "Quik 'N' Dummed Down Knitting for Funki Hipster Chix" book that is released, there is one really good, innovative book, well, then, that's a balance I can live with.
Discuss.
But behave yourselves, please.
* Also known as stamp collecting.
One of Nashua's particular strengths is its stable of designers: they get top-notch folks like Kristin Nicholas as regulars and other "guest designers" whose names you'll recognize if you pore over knitting magazines the way I do. Having excellent pattern support makes a lot of sense for a yarn manufacturer, because it gets people excited about using the yarns and it takes the angst out of yarn substitution for timid customers. Nashua is releasing six new pattern books to accompany their yarns --
Arriving soon at a LYS near you.
Kid Update
Tuesday was the first day of third grade for J. and all went well.
Several of you have asked about G.'s surgery. It's scheduled for a week from today. I'll keep you updated, so send G. good thoughts.
