Cranford

Catching a cold seriously affeted my knitting last weekend, as I lacked the energy for anything too demanding. My eyes also seemed to protest at my continuous small-gauge knitting, so my wollmeise socks were in hibernation for a few days.

So no socks to present yet. Instead of FOs, I can offer a book recommendation: Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell. I read it in print but I imagine that it would be the most suitable book to listen to while knitting. It is a novel, but very episodic: therefore it is, in a word, perfect for reading on the bus or listening to while knitting. I read it mostly one chapter at a time, one there and another here, as each chapter is very much like a short story by itself.

Elizabeth Gaskell was a contemporary of Dickens, and is a fine example of those authors who are "found" by modern media in search of something that would be as popular as Jane Austen. I first heard of her novel North and South in a comparison to Pride and Prejudice. Actually Gaskell's style of writing differs greatly from that of Austen's, but apparently that marketing trick has nevertheless worked. In recent years I've seen many new editions of her books as well as heard of some BBC tv-adaptations.

The title of Cranford comes from the name of the small village the novel tells about. It concerns the lives of a group of elderly spinsters living in the village, reported by a visiting friend (the narrator, who remains anonymous for most of the book). The events range from highly comical to most tragic, with some very humorous sequences being interrupted by genuine sadness. As an added bonus, there's quite a bit of knitting and crochet, with one character being even rather obsessed with the latter.

Cranford is available at Librivox as well as in many editions through Amazon.

More Simple Things

FO: Clapotis

Yarn: Artesano Hummingbird, 300g

Needles: 4mm

For pictures of me wearing it, see the project page

In knitting this Clapotis I also realised something about what guides me in choosing projects. Although knitting is supposedly for my own entertainment only, I still find myself considering expectations and norms.

We all fall for this sometimes -or I at least would like to think that I am not the only one who might borrow the latest prize winner from the library just because it's a prize winner. Or attempt to read a classic because it's a classic. Even though I'm actually in the mood for a re-read of Harry Potter, wouldn't it be so much better if I could say I had read James Joyce and liked it?  A good read with the added bonus of feeling smart! 

Of course I hardly ever manage to find a classic I can honestly say I like and am forced to read what I really want. Which lately has not been very much. Instead I have carried this way of thinking into knitting. One might think the two actions aren't very similar, but in this way at least they certainly are. 

In both knitting and reading much is categorized in terms of difficulty, or the mental strain of the task. "Tv-knitting" is pretty much the equivalent of a "beach read", brainless and easy. An overview of such a project or a review of such a book is usually shorter or more offhand than one of, say, a difficult lace scarf or a Nobel prize winner. 

Because of the lack of difficulty, these tv-projects and easy reads are obviously the most popular ones as well. They are recognised as fulfilling certain functions, using that lonely skein or passing the time, often in-between or after more demanding projects or books.

Just like I sometimes pay too much attention to what highbrow critics say of a novel, I have lately been too conscious of the prestige of certain pattern designers or project types. When doing a four-stitch repeat on a sock, I kept browsing the elaborate designs by Cookie A, even attempted one of the easier ones. I so hoped to be able to say that I had mastered it and liked doing it. But no luck. I also have a beginning of a lace scarf, my pride of which was somewhat lessened once I realised that what I thought of as difficult was tv-knitting to others.

I started Clapotis as a calm-me-down project, on a morning when I was extremely annoyed and angry with the world. I justified it like I would justify a hamburger: a treat I was badly in need for.

And I really did not knit anything else for nearly two weeks. The yarn was soft, the colours pretty, the rhythm right.  As much as I would have wanted to like something more difficult, this simplicity was what I truly did like. I felt somewhat self-conscious when I brought it out in public, but knew that pretending to work on something else simply would result in me doing nothing.

Although nearly running out of yarn and having some trouble dropping the stitches (in sticky alpaca), the finished product was also a success and I wore it at my cousin's wedding this past weekend. 

Perhaps a lace shawl might have made me more proud, but Clapotis had made me happy. 

And warm.

Kirjamanifesti

Joskus suuruudenhulluudessani kun syksyn kirjauutuudet oikein ottavat päähän, kuvittelen kirjoittavani romaanin.

Kirjoittaisin suomalaisen kirjan jossa miespäähenkilö ei ole psykopaatti, alkoholisti tai mulkvisti tummassa puvussa eikä naispäähenkilöllä ole kadonnutta isää, pedofiili-isää tai seksiriippuvuutta. Kirjan jossa joillekin käy huonosti joskus mutta ei kaikille koko ajan.

Kirjani ei käsittelisi puhumattomuutta, syrjähyppyä, äitiyttä, Monimutkaisia Perhesuhteita tai isoäitiä painavaa salaisuutta siitä mitä tapahtui kerran Venäjällä. Minä-kertojani ei olisi pysyvästi masentunut, vihainen, lakoninen tai kaikkea kolmea samaan aikaan.

Ei. Minä kirjoittaisin sen tarinan, jonka olen itse halunnut lukea. Kirjoittaisin arkisesta hieman maagista, ihmiskunnasta hieman hyvää. Kirjoittaisin tarinan jonka seurassa rentoutua, maailman joka olisi melkein, mutta ei aivan, tässä. Kirjoittaisin hieman kauneutta.

Valitettavasti minulta puuttuvat tähän vaadittavat taidot sekä kärsivällisyys, mutta muiden kirjoittamista kirjoista samoja periaatteita on ainakin seuraavilla:

Zusak, Markus: The Book Thief / Kirjavaras
Winterson, Jeanette: Lighthousekeeping / Majakanvartija
Jääskeläinen, Pasi Ilmari: Lumikko ja yhdeksän muuta
Clarke, Susanna: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell / Jonathan Strange & Herra Norrell
Foer, Jonathan Safran: Everything is Illuminated / Kaikki valaistuu
Bradley, James: The Deep Field / ei käännetty
Fowler, Karen Joy: The Case of the Imaginary Detective (Wit's End in the US) / ei käännetty
Setterfield, Diane: The Thirteenth Tale / Kolmastoista kertomus
Chabon, Michael: The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay / käsittämätöntä, että tätä ei ole käännetty!
Brontë, Charlotte: Jane Eyre / Kotiopettajattaren romaani
Le Guin, Ursula: The Left Hand of Darkness / Pimeyden vasen käsi

Lomailua

Viime aikoina täällä on kyllä neulottu, mutta valmista ei synny. On useampikin pariton sukka, aiemmin kuvattu huivi ja vielä vähän muuta...Toki myös Helsingin lyhyt (kolme päivää) kesä vaikutti asiaan. Kaunis sää houkutteli uimaan ja pyöräilemään. Helteiden aikana sain kunnon rusketuksen käsivarsiin, menetin talviturkin ja luin pari dekkaria mutta neuloin tuskin yhtään.


Lomapäivien lukemiseksi suosittelen ehdottomasti vanhoja dekkareita. Ahmin yläasteikäisenä Agatha Christiet, Rex Stoutit ja John Dickson Carrit, mutta Dorothy Sayersit jäivät lukematta. Niihin palaaminen oli kuin paluu noihin huolettomiin kesälomapäiviin ennen murheita kesätöistä (tai niiden puutteesta).

Yksi Dorothy L Sayersin kirja on saatavilla myös LibriVoxista: Whose Body.