Little Women & Werewolves

Yes, the classic "Little Women" has fallen prey to the publishing trend that started with "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies". Joy. I never read the Austen-goes-supernatural novel.  I mean, I still have issues with casting Colin Firth as Darcy in that BBC mini-series, so imagine what issues I'd have suddenly encountering zombies in the midst of Pemberley! Anyway, the synopsis of "Little Women" reads thusly:

In this retelling of Louisa May Alcott's classic, the beloved little women must keep not just the wolf, but the werewolves, from the door...and the kindly old gentlemen next door and his grandson may have some secrets to hide — or share with the March girls.

There is a silver lining, though. On io9, commentators have fun trying to come up with the next installments in this classics-goes-monstrous trend and they're really quite funny:

• A Sentimental Education of Vampires
• Canterbury Tales from the Crypt
• Uncle Tom's Kraken
• Love in the Time of Cthulu
• The Barchester Martian Chronicles
• The Handmaid's Tail

Can anyone come up with a synopsis for any of these?

Self-Awareness is Good, Right?

At times our Domestic Bliss feels a lot like this cartoon:

The Threads That Bind Us Together

Knitting is in my blood. My great-great-grandmother knitted socks, my great-grandmother taught me to knit, my grandmother has never been without a project in her knitting basket and my mother loves knitting socks although she prefers to crochet.

According to my grandmother, my great-great-grandmother, Ingeborg,  "threw" her knitting and it was not until I moved to the UK I understood what she meant. Ingeborg knitted in the English manner. I continue to wonder about Ingeborg throwing rather than picking (i.e. the Continental way). Where did she learn a style which is not used in Denmark? Who taught her? I wish I knew more about her.

Now my grandmother has expressed a desire to get "something knitted" from me for Christmas. Gran used to knit sample sweaters for a local yarn shop and you should see the fair isle sweaters she used to knit for me. Of course I cannot find any photos of them (and she gave them all to charity at one point, annoyingly), but I remember them as being stunning. My particular favourite was one knitted in Faroese colourwork (two colours, geometric patterns) in bright red and dark green. I know she still has the pattern and I harbour dreams of recreating it.

On the photo above  you can see me aged five or thereabouts. I'm wearing one of Gran's creations: it looks like brioche stitch to me with set-in sleeves. I'll spare you the other photo I found. It was a zipped cardigan with a hood done in lilac. I've always hated zips in knitwear, wearing a hood and the colour lilac. Now I know why. A childhood trauma, clearly.

But what do you knit for a woman whose knitting I have worn since I was a baby?

The obvious answer is lace.

Gran has never knitted much lace, much preferring cables, brioche stitch and colourwork. When I knitted a scarf for my mother last year, Gran kept talking about the fine detailing and the delicate stitches. My family does not do "subtle" very well.

I looked in my stash and uncovered a beautiful hank of Old Maiden Aunt merino/silk in "Gothic". Then I looked at a gazillion lace shawls on Ravelry before deciding to go with a pattern I have used before: the good, old Swallowtail shawl by Evelyn A. Clark. It is one of the prettiest shawl patterns available, I've knit it twice before and know its pitfalls, and I know I can get it done in plenty of time for the holidays even if I'm going to enlargen it slightly (it is a bit dainty).

Think my Gran will like it? I think so.

FO: Autumn Ishbel and Introducing Paprika

My third (and arguably last) Ishbel shawl. This time I am keeping it for myself. I have previously waxed poetically about the yarn and the start of the project, so I'm not going to repeat myself. It suffices to say that a) the yarn drapes beeeeeautifully and b) I shouldn't ever bring lace knitting to my knitting group. Ishbel is a pretty easy pattern, but it still requires you pay attention to where you are in your pattern. Knitting group does not encourage silly things like "attention" and "concentration". And so I had to rip back, pick up stitches  and knit on. Obviously my Ishbel has a row of arty little holes where I didn't pay attention to picking up stitches properly.  My shawl is so soft and warm that I don't mind, but no more knitting lace at knitting group!

Fortunately I have just cast on a very mindless knit that should be impossible to mess up - even at the most raucous of knitting meetings. Francis Revisited is the simplest of pullovers: top-down, raglan, knit body in round, sleeves in round and then pick up stitches to knit a cowl. It'd be a perfect first big project for any beginning knitter, in fact.

I cast on last night and was able to separate for sleeves six hours later (with many interruptions), so this might be the fastest project ever. Being really quite hobbit-like, I'm thinking Francis Revisited Paprika will be my comfortable go-to pullover this winter (although I'm currently wearing Snorri non-stop). I'm going to lengthen the sleeves and the body - and the edgings will be different too. With a pattern this clean and simple, the tiny details really do make all the difference.

The yarn is Sirdar Peru, a woolblend, and I chose a lovely paprika red colour which I hope will brighten up those dark winter days ahead. It has a definite "acrylic" feel to it (which I expected) but Peru knits up very well with good stitch definition. It is loosely spun and almost feels like a single ply, but I'm hoping the acrylic content will keep it from pilling. The colour sequencing could have been more subtle, but that is a minor concern.

I'm also going to cast on a new lace project this weekend as my gran informed me she would love a shawl for Christmas. She is a knitter herself and I'm honoured. I just need to figure out which yarn to use (I have a sizeable laceweight stash) and decide on a suitable pattern. Pattern suggestions are, of course, warmly welcomed.

No Beginning No End

Hawksley Workman. One of my favourite male singers. And the video is so beautiful.

Man Booker? It's Me, Karie Rantypants.

• Genre writers complain about chosen genre being ignored by the mainstream literary establishment.
• Mainstream literary establishment responds by saying that genre fiction is never submitted to major literary awards by its publishers.
• Genre writers sulk and go "at least we have plenty of readers unlike mainstream literary fiction"
• Mainstream literary establishment snarls: "[genre fiction] is in a special room in book shops, bought by a special kind of person who has special weird things they go to and meet each other."
• Blogs pick up on spat.
• And I weigh in with an essay-length comment on the history of the Man Booker Prize because I've been commenting on the Man Booker prize and its ways since the beginning of time.

My comment in expanded format:

Booker prize winners have had fantastical elements despite claims to the contrary. Keri Hume's the bone people (1985) springs to mind with its fusion of quasi-religion, magical realism and utopian vision. David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas got very, very, very, very close to taking the prize in 2004 while Atwood's The Blind Assassin took the prize in 2000. Both novels use science-fiction as part of their mise-en-abyme structures. Both authors have written other books which both arguably belong to the speculative fiction genre.

Personally, I am not a huge fan of the Man Booker prize for various reasons: I think it promotes a certain type of literary fiction which does not reflect the myriad of exciting literature being produced in the Commonwealth; I think it has become too focused on easily-marketed books (the Kelman win in 94 really was wretched for booksellers and the Man Booker has taken great care not to alienate the High Street since); I think too much importance is being given to the Man Booker over several other literary prizes; I think the idea of a literary prize is, by its very nature, somewhat dubious.

But the Man Booker does not exclude books with fantastical or science fiction elements more than, say, the Hugos ignore David Mitchell (who is one of the best young novelists working in the English language) or Margaret Atwood (who is one of the best novelists working in the English language, full stop). The Hugos have their Neal Stephensons, their China Miévilles and their Neil Gaimans just as the Man Booker has its Ian McEwan, Julian Barnes and Salman Rushdie. Same difference. Same sense of ghettoisation.

Now I'm going to go have dinner, curl up with the last rows of my Ishbel shawl and have a lazy Friday evening with my partner. But I'll probably rant about the Man Booker some other day. The award is rewarded shortly, you know, and I will have Opinions.