My latest knitting project comes from the pages of The Adventures of Miss Flitt by Beth Hahn. The Adventures, a four-part series, combines a work of fiction alongside knitwear patterns inspired by or tied to the tale and its characters. Hahn admits to taking liberties with the history of nineteenth century New York, where her tale is set, but her approach lends an interesting fantasy-like element as the plot unfolds in small doses over the course of four volumes. The sweater I’m working on, Gretel, is a pullover from the final part in the series. But I had to ignore the tale accompanying the patterns in this volume until I could get back to Knitty City to buy the first three parts. I’ve now done so, and my reading is complete (though the sweater is not).
While pondering The Adventures, and while also reading The Mongoliad, a serialized tale created and distributed online to subscribers one or two chapters at a time (at least at first; a print edition is in the works), I’ve become more curious about how this experience of reading–dominated by the fact that one cannot read as much or as quickly as one might want–would have been the norm if I were a nineteenth century reader, when so much popular fiction was published serially.
At my Library we have a tremendous collection of nineteenth century books in parts, and they are fascinating artifacts of their time (with intriguing ads like this one for Icelandic Moss Cocoa). But for now, I’m back to consuming entire novels in short sprints. Even my Gretel sweater has just moved from the “in parts” stage–in which body and arms were knitted separately from the bottom up–to the point of being now a single volume project, with just the yoke to go.
![[Heidi hugs a goat.]](http://images.nypl.org/index.php?id=1699013&t=w)
For quite some time I’ve been keeping my eye on the Beekman 1802 site and have come to welcome the news, bits of homemaking and New York history, recipes, and ingenious handmade products that the proprietors offer up. I’ve also come to love goats as I’ve gotten glimpses of these intelligent horned creatures playing their part on this Upstate farm. But I don’t live on a farm, and the closest I get to goats is a trip to the state fair. So I took the bookish route to goat appreciation and spent some time with a 1922 edition of Heidi.
![[Heidi drinking from her bowl.]](http://images.nypl.org/index.php?id=1699011&t=w)
Do you remember Heidi? In this novel by Johanna Spyri, a young waif is placed in the care of her grumpy grandfather who lives like a hermit on an Alpine mountaintop. He might want only the company of his goats Little Swan and Little Bear, but young Heidi brings him out of his funk soon enough. In fact, she improves the lives of everyone she meets, including a sickly city girl named Clara. And at every step, the goats (and their strengthening dairy goodness) are right there in the story.
![[Heidi with her pets.]](http://images.nypl.org/index.php?id=1699014&t=w)
What sets the 1922 edition apart from others are its illustrations, created by hand by artist Jessie Willcox Smith. She is considered one of the giants of the golden age of illustration in the United States. She might not have made her name with scenes of swashbuckling high seas adventure like her teacher Howard Pyle did, but she knew her way around children and animals and quickly developed a reputation for her full-hearted depictions of these creatures. (The illustrations here, as well as other Heidi illustrations, can all be found in NYPL’s Digital Gallery.)
![[Goats.]](http://images.nypl.org/index.php?id=1699026&t=w)
If you read Heidi as a child, what did you think? Did it make you want to run up a mountain and frolic with goats? Did a different beloved tale from your childhood inspire a lifelong love of animals or an interest in incorporating animals into your creative work?
![[Two goats with pink bows.]](http://images.nypl.org/index.php?id=1699015&t=w)
Last month I met Bristol-based designer Nick Hand. Over tea we talked about handmade creativity, and he told me how he’s been exploring and documenting the makers he meets. But it wasn’t until this recent stretch of warm days, when I got on my bicycle again for the first time in months, that I realized
Continue reading The Slowcoast Project.
Last week I completed my first colorwork sweater–just in time for a pre-spring warm spell. Here I am, ignoring the sunny day as I revel in the sweater’s finished form while Upstate over the weekend.
(Ravelers, you’ll find more pictures as well as details on the project page.)
The yarn, Alafoss Lopi, is a
Continue reading London via Iceland.
|
|
|
