Knithropology

Last weekend I chanced upon an advance reader’s edition of Knitting for Good! by Betsy Greer and thought I’d give it a bit of a review. You can purchase the released version at any good bookshop from 11 November 2008.

(Please note that this review is of a book that may change significantly before its official release date, and be assured that problems with formatting, spelling or other errors which may have occurred during the production of this early release will not factor into my opinions.)

Knitting for Good! bills itself on the front cover as “A Guide to Creating Personal, Social, and Political Change Stitch by Stitch”. Betsy uses herself as the centre, and as she explains her history as a knitter, she shows how her knitting caused her to interact more positively with her family, her community and finally the world.

She draws lightly off related texts, but this is clearly not an academic work nor a manifesto - this is a codification of her personal journey as a knitter and an exhortation to the rest of us. Her manner of storytelling is engaging and easy to identify with; she darts between being incredibly idealistic and incredibly practical, which is endearing - I think many of us skirt those same boundaries with our own knitting.

In her introduction, she charts the course many of us take: learning to knit, being terrified and intimidated at the possibilities, slowly getting more confident, becoming a knitter, becoming a charity knitter, becoming a politicised knitter and finally, spreading the word. The process brings to mind the tagline to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s River Cottage ethos - “Where are you on the road to River Cottage?” Well, where are you on the road to…Knitted House? Yarn-filled Apartment? Stringy Dorm Room? Whatever you want to call it, it is something that many of us sense and understand, and we can plot exactly where we are, and know that the steps ahead are already beckoning (Knithropologist, no longer terrified, knits for family, friends and charity, am relatively politicised and will spread the word only in appropriate situations. I’m still on the road.).

I suspect that, because this is so familiar to many knitters, Betsy’s book may not break much new ground for those of us who are already tuned into knitting as being more than a hobby (though there’s nothing wrong with knitting as being just a hobby - ack, hobby is such a loaded word, I’m sorry for using it), but for people who haven’t quite made the jump from knitting as hobby to knitting as a gateway to all sorts of ideas and insights, this text really could be quite galvanising. I was especially touched by the sidebars sprinkled throughout the book, each written by people Betsy finds inspirational; the sidebars bring perspectives that accentuate and compliment Betsy’s own views and add to the overall impact of the book. After reading some of the sidebars, I was ready to take on the world - if these folks could do it, why can’t I? Whenever I need a kick up the brain, I’ll definitely read through those again.

The patterns included are a scarf, hat, baby blanket, cushion cover, pet bed, a cuddly lion, socks, vest and a jacket. Most knitters would be able to take these on no matter their knitting level.

I hope, possibly naively at this late stage, that the final edition will have actual photos to go along with the patterns, as the drawings aren’t incredibly true to life and might confuse more novice knitters; though I concede that if one was confused about basketweave stitch, finding pictures of it online wouldn’t be too difficult. I can see also where costs could prevent photos, and I long for the days of colour plates. And this is a small quibble, but I wish the knitted globe on the cover had actually been knitted rather than…digitally manipulated? I can’t for certain tell what they’ve done, but I think I’d be so much more impressed if it had been knitted - and if there was a pattern for it included!

Since this is a book which addresses the personal, I should probably talk about what I got out of it. A few months ago, I made a list of things I want to do with the latter half of 2008, and one of those things is “Make charity knitting at least 25% of my knitting.” Well, with all the baby showers, the birthdays, the squirrels raiding my garden and the need to use up that damned Malabrigo, that hasn’t yet happened. Discouragement had set in, but luckily for me, Betsy gently reminds her readers that charity items can be whipped up in as little as a couple of hours.

That’s one of those strange things I know intellectually - just like I know that I don’t have to eat all the fresh homemade peach cobbler in one day -  but the reality of it had slipped away (just like the cobbler, om nom). So it was time to reassess; if I knit a hat or relatively simple but functional scarf every week, I would be well on the way to my >25% and would still have time for other knitting projects. And it would make sense to take charity projects on the bus - why not have something easy to pass the five hours of transit time I have every week? Really, given the choice of hauling a nearly-finished heavy wool cardigan or an rather lighter Irish Hiking Scarf around for a couple of days, I know what I’d prefer - and come Monday I’ll pack my bag accordingly.

So there we go, folks; the book has worked on me, anyway.

Knitting for Good! by Betsy Greer. Boston: Trumpeter Books, November 2008. 150 pages. ISBN 978-1-59030-589-8.

I made an effort. Sort of. I knit in public every day; knitting at brunch on a Saturday is no great stretch. I was finishing up the Irish Hiking Scarf at the time, so it was easily noticeable knitting. My cable needle balanced over my ear when I wasn’t using it, the worsted wool flying through my size 8s, I was knitting in public. Hurrah.

I’ll leave the judgments on WWKIP Day to others; I know that folks debate its usefulness or necessity, and I can see both sides. I wish every day was a knitting in public day for everyone, but for knitters who may not want to come out of the stash closet (for whatever reason - embarrassment, fear of being picked on), it can be a gateway experience. So kudos to anyone who celebrated their first day of public knitting earlier this month. Welcome to the light side. (For anyone still hesitating, have a listen to Episode 8 of the Knit Picks podcast; you’ll feel empowered.)

My town’s gathering wasn’t very publicised, which was disappointing - no joining up with the group. But I knit all the way through brunch (when I wasn’t eating my farmer’s eggs) and knit in the car. No one said a word - unlike just about every other day.

I routinely get comments on knitting, and if I don’t get them directly, I hear people as they walk past. Some of the recent ones:

* “Is she knitting? That’s cool.”

* “I’ve always wanted to learn to crochet.”

* The Stare. If you’ve ever knit in public, you very likely know The Stare. It says, “What is she doing? Knitting? She’s not a grandmother. Why is she doing that?” Then life goes on and they forget all about you. Or they keep staring on and off, as I experienced yesterday. A lanky athlete was doing her best to not have me notice her, but it didn’t work.

* A stronger variant of the stare is The Hover. I had this happen to me one morning at the bus stop. I was working on the Irish Hiking Bag (before it rediscovered it was to be an Irish Hiking Scarf) when this tiny, lovely, cute Chinese woman appeared next to me. Nearly *on* me, really. I looked up, wondering if I was going to have to give someone a sharp word, then saw her smiling. I smiled back and kept going. She hovered, watching, until the bus came.

* Or, most happily of all, there is The Approach. This, like The Stare, comes in at least two types. It can be Shy or Bold; when it is Shy, this form of knitting contact, you notice someone giving you what you first think is The Stare. But it lasts too long: you are being watched. You make eye contact again when you check to see if they’re still there. They are. You smile slightly and look back down, and before you know it, you are not alone. ”

Then there is the Bold Approach. I’ll give you an example from my own life - from today, in fact. I was sitting in the lecture hall before class, talking to a friend, when there was a whoosh of air, and I heard a strange voice ask, “What are you knitting?” I started to go into the whole explanation of a Dream Swatch when my visitor reached out and caressed one of the lacy bits. “That is such a great effect; are you twisting the stitches?” I blinked. A knitter! To make a short story even shorter, I showed her the technique, as I was on the appropriate row, then gave her Knit and Tonic’s address. We then had a short conversation about how the under-30 crowd is treated at our main LYS (like aliens from the planet Oh dear) and if we’re for buying yarn online. It was time for lecture then, but I suspect we’ll speak again. That’s how knitters are.

Knitting in public, at least where I live, isn’t that eccentric; it is routinely admired. Folks stare and hover, bus drivers wonder what I’m doing, but I’m never shouted at or derided. So that’s something. It’s no Toronto, but it’s something.

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Note: my current tally of possible future knitting students: 2 (one who needs to learn from the beginning, and one who needs to learn to purl)