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Sweater Quest: My Year of Knitting Dangerously
"I knit so I don’t kill people" —bumper sticker spotted at Rhinebeck Sheep and Wool Festival For Adrienne Martini, and countless others, knitting is the linchpin of sanity. As a working mother of two, Martini wanted a challenge that would make her feel in charge. So she decided to make the Holy Grail of sweaters—her own Mary Tudor, whose mind-numbingly gorgeous pattern is so complicated to knit that its mere mention can hush a roomful of experienced knitters. Created by reclusive designer Alice Starmore, the Mary Tudor can be found only in a rare, out-of-print book of Fair Isle–style patterns, Tudor Roses, and requires a discontinued, irreplaceable yarn. The sweater, Martini explains, "is a knitter’s Mount Everest, our curse, and our compulsion. I want one more than I can begin to tell you." And so she took on the one year, two needles, and countless knits and purls to conquer Mary Tudor while also taking care of her two kids, two cats, two jobs, and (thankfully) one husband—without unraveling in the process. Along the way, Adrienne investigates the tangled origins of the coveted pattern, inquires into the nature of artistic creation, and details her quest to buy supplies on the knitting black market. As she tries not to pull out her hair along with rows gone wrong, Martini gets guidance from some knitterati, who offer invaluable inspiration as she conquers her fear of Fair Isle. A wooly Julie and Julia, this epic yarn celebrates the profound joys of creating—and aspiring to—remarkable achievements.
242 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 1, 2010
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April 25, 2010
I really do like books about people immersing themselves in a project for a period of time, and I really do like knitting, but this particular book was only just okay.
The author decides that she wants to make a complicated Fair Isle sweater and gives herself a year to do so. Along the way, she explores topics such as the history of Fair Isle knitting, the pattern's controversial designer Alice Starmore, copyright issues, the yarn she chooses, and the pattern's namesake Mary Tudor. There are some a-funny-thing-happened-to-me-on-the-way-to-the-yarn-store type of anecdotes, but I think I was expecting more of them. I wanted to hear about what the process was like for her. Why really did she choose this particular pattern out of all the possible choices, especially when she is so clearly conflicted about the designer? What was it like when she dared to first open the pattern book that she had paid so much for? What was going through her mind? How did she feel after making her first steek? Martini seems to take us to the edge of these moments and builds up anticipation, but then things kind of fizzle. The ending is rather unceremonious.
Much of the book details the author's meetings with prominent knitters, in which she discussed how they learned to knit, their philosophies about knitting, and what role they think the internet plays on the knitting community. These sections, though, contained not brief quotes but extended transcripts. Rather than using others' ideas as a context for her own self-reflection, she seemed to instead use them as the foundation for a huge section of the book. Even the early sections in which she provides historical background are largely lifted (with attribution--I don't mean to imply plagarism) from these other knitters' books and blogs. While having these insights from others was interesting, it wasn't anything that a reader familiar with the blogosphere of the knitting glitterati wouldn't already know. She kept asking people about whether they thought that her end product would be an authentic Starmore since she used some yarn substitutions. This seemed rather forced to me, especially after Martini pointed out that she watched a video in which Starmore herself encouraged knitters to play around with different color schemes. And after all that, Martini did not really answer her own question. Surprisingly, the one person she didn't interview was Starmore. It made no sense to me at all that she not at least try. Maybe she did and was rebuffed (which would explain a lot of her sentiments), but there wasn't any reference to her efforts. There were instances in which Martini's personal voice sounded a bit underdeveloped (she uses the turn of phrase "siren call" 3 times and reminds us twice that Fair Isle is "binary"), but I did enjoy it most of the time, and I wish she had used it more.
An additional problem with the book is that Martini seems uncertain about her audience. I frankly would be surprised if someone who was not already a knitter (or maybe a crocheter) would be interested in the book, and yet she explains in some minute detail about the difference between a knit and a purl stitch. At other times she assumes a facile understanding of inside information that only a knitter would have. She also injects a fair amount of political commentary into the book. While I don't disagree with her politics, I don't see how it relates to her topic. Ironically, she said "even in a situation full of other lovers of knitting, I have a knack for saying the wrong thing" and relates a story about how she started an unpleasant argument about politics in her knitting group. She does not seem to have remembered that lesson.
This book read a lot like a blog...except that there were no pictures. Not one--which was really disappointing. I had to go to Ravelry to find her finished sweater. In short, it was entertaining but not my favorite knitting book.
The author decides that she wants to make a complicated Fair Isle sweater and gives herself a year to do so. Along the way, she explores topics such as the history of Fair Isle knitting, the pattern's controversial designer Alice Starmore, copyright issues, the yarn she chooses, and the pattern's namesake Mary Tudor. There are some a-funny-thing-happened-to-me-on-the-way-to-the-yarn-store type of anecdotes, but I think I was expecting more of them. I wanted to hear about what the process was like for her. Why really did she choose this particular pattern out of all the possible choices, especially when she is so clearly conflicted about the designer? What was it like when she dared to first open the pattern book that she had paid so much for? What was going through her mind? How did she feel after making her first steek? Martini seems to take us to the edge of these moments and builds up anticipation, but then things kind of fizzle. The ending is rather unceremonious.
Much of the book details the author's meetings with prominent knitters, in which she discussed how they learned to knit, their philosophies about knitting, and what role they think the internet plays on the knitting community. These sections, though, contained not brief quotes but extended transcripts. Rather than using others' ideas as a context for her own self-reflection, she seemed to instead use them as the foundation for a huge section of the book. Even the early sections in which she provides historical background are largely lifted (with attribution--I don't mean to imply plagarism) from these other knitters' books and blogs. While having these insights from others was interesting, it wasn't anything that a reader familiar with the blogosphere of the knitting glitterati wouldn't already know. She kept asking people about whether they thought that her end product would be an authentic Starmore since she used some yarn substitutions. This seemed rather forced to me, especially after Martini pointed out that she watched a video in which Starmore herself encouraged knitters to play around with different color schemes. And after all that, Martini did not really answer her own question. Surprisingly, the one person she didn't interview was Starmore. It made no sense to me at all that she not at least try. Maybe she did and was rebuffed (which would explain a lot of her sentiments), but there wasn't any reference to her efforts. There were instances in which Martini's personal voice sounded a bit underdeveloped (she uses the turn of phrase "siren call" 3 times and reminds us twice that Fair Isle is "binary"), but I did enjoy it most of the time, and I wish she had used it more.
An additional problem with the book is that Martini seems uncertain about her audience. I frankly would be surprised if someone who was not already a knitter (or maybe a crocheter) would be interested in the book, and yet she explains in some minute detail about the difference between a knit and a purl stitch. At other times she assumes a facile understanding of inside information that only a knitter would have. She also injects a fair amount of political commentary into the book. While I don't disagree with her politics, I don't see how it relates to her topic. Ironically, she said "even in a situation full of other lovers of knitting, I have a knack for saying the wrong thing" and relates a story about how she started an unpleasant argument about politics in her knitting group. She does not seem to have remembered that lesson.
This book read a lot like a blog...except that there were no pictures. Not one--which was really disappointing. I had to go to Ravelry to find her finished sweater. In short, it was entertaining but not my favorite knitting book.
June 23, 2010
Adrienne Martini's knitting assignment to herself--knit a sweater designed by noted Fair Isle color genius Alice Starmore--is my own greatest knitting ambition, so I was curious to read about her experience. Unfortunately, the book doesn't quite hang together. Unsure of its audience, it alternates between explaining basic knitting concepts for the uninitiated and assuming knowledge of techniques, popular patterns, and insider jargon. Trying to avoid an overly narrow focus on the process of making the sweater itself, Martini includes background on Starmore and her legendary conflicts with the knitting community; Mary Tudor, the English monarch for whom her chosen pattern is named; and interviews with celebrated figures in the contemporary knitting world, in which she prompts the speakers to offer their philosophies of knitting--which unfortunately wear as thin in spots as a pair of 100% merino handmade socks. I love to knit and I too muse on what the appeal is....but to take the whole thing too seriously as a spiritual enterprise is to invite both yawns and mockery--and knitters already get enough of both. By the second half the book starts to feel a bit embarrassingly like navel-gazing by 30-something women with nothing to do but travel the country buying expensive yarn. The costs detailed at the beginning of each chapter aren't comic--after awhile they start to feel like a rather appalling testament to self indulgence, especially in the middle of a global financial crisis. (Unlike the reviewers here who found the book political, I wondered where these knitters' attention was to anything beyond the end of their own Addi Turbo needles.)
Meanwhile, the Starmore sweater itself fades from view, perhaps because Martini discovers it is easier to knit than she'd anticipated. She admits even to finding it boring, such that the element of suspense--can she do it? will it look right? will it fit?--dissolves. Her confession at the end that she's sick of the whole project and doesn't care that it doesn't fit seems to go for the book as well.
On a final nitpicky note for the publisher: The cover design bothered me. If one knows enough about knitting to be interested in a whole book about completing an Alice Starmore sweater, one knows that a Starmore wouldn't be made from the garish worsted-weight skeins pictured on the front. Why doesn't this cover show an elaborate, tapestry-like, fingering weight, Fair Isle-in-progress on needles? Even for the uninitiated, that would offer a much more dramatic and beautiful sense of what's at stake.
Meanwhile, the Starmore sweater itself fades from view, perhaps because Martini discovers it is easier to knit than she'd anticipated. She admits even to finding it boring, such that the element of suspense--can she do it? will it look right? will it fit?--dissolves. Her confession at the end that she's sick of the whole project and doesn't care that it doesn't fit seems to go for the book as well.
On a final nitpicky note for the publisher: The cover design bothered me. If one knows enough about knitting to be interested in a whole book about completing an Alice Starmore sweater, one knows that a Starmore wouldn't be made from the garish worsted-weight skeins pictured on the front. Why doesn't this cover show an elaborate, tapestry-like, fingering weight, Fair Isle-in-progress on needles? Even for the uninitiated, that would offer a much more dramatic and beautiful sense of what's at stake.
August 30, 2010
Not really enjoying this so far. The author is trying way too hard to be funny. I have my own Alice Starmore pattern obsession (St. Brigid), and I've been following the Starmore saga on the Girl from Auntie's blog for a while, but this book is not grabbing me. Still, it will do for the 10 minutes of reading before I fall asleep.
Okay, now I'm finished. Wow, that was not a good book. It didn't know what it was trying to be: a memoir, a series of interviews with the knitterati, a series of essays. Certainly it wasn't about the process of making Mary Tudor, which sounds mostly like it was tedious, so maybe she didn't have as much material as she thought she'd have. And at the end, she was obviously trying to meet a deadline, and was just trying to wrap it up in as few words as possible. I got the impression that she was sick of both the project and the book halfway through, but was stuck with both. How is this woman a professional writer?
The most interesting bit was how the Harlot got her start. This book had a similar problem to Julie and Julia, where the subject of obsession (the knitterati, Julia Child) was way more interesting than the author and her story.
I can't imagine recommending this book to anyone, knitter or non-knitter.
Okay, now I'm finished. Wow, that was not a good book. It didn't know what it was trying to be: a memoir, a series of interviews with the knitterati, a series of essays. Certainly it wasn't about the process of making Mary Tudor, which sounds mostly like it was tedious, so maybe she didn't have as much material as she thought she'd have. And at the end, she was obviously trying to meet a deadline, and was just trying to wrap it up in as few words as possible. I got the impression that she was sick of both the project and the book halfway through, but was stuck with both. How is this woman a professional writer?
The most interesting bit was how the Harlot got her start. This book had a similar problem to Julie and Julia, where the subject of obsession (the knitterati, Julia Child) was way more interesting than the author and her story.
I can't imagine recommending this book to anyone, knitter or non-knitter.
March 2, 2014
The "cult of personality" in the knitting community since the early 2000's is one I've long had a hard time understanding. Mainly for the reasons that I am old, and also that I came to knitting through the portal of sewing, a clothing construction craft that does not rely on such a microcosm of celebrity personalities. As seamstresses, we work to make clothes that please, fit, and satisfy us or those we sew for. Period. I have never needed or desired a name-brand designer behind a pattern to enjoy the things I make with my hands. I have never given a second thought to whether or not the person who wrote a sewing pattern would approve of my choices, execution, or finished results, using their pattern. The products from my hand belong to me, and I would never think of my dresses as "a Butterick" or "a Vogue", so once I took up knitting, I also never thought of my knitting as in any way "belonging" to the person who wrote the instructions for a pattern. I hardly ever follow the directions, completely--to me, alterations and customizations are the very reason we undertake the art of "bespoke" clothing. And before the internet, there would have been no way of a designer seeing anything I made or wore, anyway, my work couldn't have possibly made any difference to them.
So, as you might imagine, a book about a knitter in pursuit of the ideal "Alice Starmore", asking of one knitworld celebrity after another, "When does an Alice Starmore [project made after a pattern] stop being an Alice Starmore?" is a bit at odds with my philosophy of making things. I find the very question illogical. And when one is starting without the assumption that the designer somehow "owns" all things knitted following her/his pattern, all other points and ponderings become illogical, too. She compares choosing your own colors of yarn to "changing the colors in a Matisse", whereas I would say if you're comparing knitting to painting, nothing you do from your own hand in paint is ever, ever going to make your painting "a real Matisse", no matter how closely you copy his colors. The fact that you might look at Matisse's work and work with Matisse's subjects doesn't mean your painting belongs to him. If that's what you want, you have to buy a Matisse.
This book also clings to the cult of personality in the author's construction of it, as she travels from place to place to interview various designers and name-brand knitters and get their input to her question. Unless you already know and recognize these folks, it's a bit hard to care. It's very "blogger with a book deal": that literary genre of the early 21st century that's already as dated, in writing style, as a drop-sleeve fair isle sweater is in fashion. Part stories of the knitting process, part stories of the author's family and social life, part investigation of the history of knitting traditions, specific designs, or the feud around one specific designer...all of those things make good blog posts. But bound together in one book, these tales don't make for good literature. This isn't a book that has aged well, even four years from publication. A really good meditation on the craft of knitting could transcend its moment and provide insight to knitters working in any tradition and be as timeless as the practice itself.
One thing I do agree with Adrienne Martini absolutely on, however: Sleeves leech away your will to live.
So, as you might imagine, a book about a knitter in pursuit of the ideal "Alice Starmore", asking of one knitworld celebrity after another, "When does an Alice Starmore [project made after a pattern] stop being an Alice Starmore?" is a bit at odds with my philosophy of making things. I find the very question illogical. And when one is starting without the assumption that the designer somehow "owns" all things knitted following her/his pattern, all other points and ponderings become illogical, too. She compares choosing your own colors of yarn to "changing the colors in a Matisse", whereas I would say if you're comparing knitting to painting, nothing you do from your own hand in paint is ever, ever going to make your painting "a real Matisse", no matter how closely you copy his colors. The fact that you might look at Matisse's work and work with Matisse's subjects doesn't mean your painting belongs to him. If that's what you want, you have to buy a Matisse.
This book also clings to the cult of personality in the author's construction of it, as she travels from place to place to interview various designers and name-brand knitters and get their input to her question. Unless you already know and recognize these folks, it's a bit hard to care. It's very "blogger with a book deal": that literary genre of the early 21st century that's already as dated, in writing style, as a drop-sleeve fair isle sweater is in fashion. Part stories of the knitting process, part stories of the author's family and social life, part investigation of the history of knitting traditions, specific designs, or the feud around one specific designer...all of those things make good blog posts. But bound together in one book, these tales don't make for good literature. This isn't a book that has aged well, even four years from publication. A really good meditation on the craft of knitting could transcend its moment and provide insight to knitters working in any tradition and be as timeless as the practice itself.
One thing I do agree with Adrienne Martini absolutely on, however: Sleeves leech away your will to live.
August 5, 2010
I'm going to write a book, "My Year of Reading Books about People Spending a Year Doing Something." Catchy title, right?
Update: if I write that book I probably won't include this one. It didn't quite work. The writer couldn't decide if she was writing purely for an audience of knitters (the only people who would be remotely interested in this book) or if she was trying to explain knitters to non-knitters. So there were lots of knitterly references interspersed with detailed descriptions of knitting terms. So, half the book feels like it is for one audience, half for another. But I don't think either would be quite satisfied.
I think the author actually hits on the problem when she interviews the Yarn Harlot. They decide that the key to the success of the Harlot's books about knitting is that they aren't really about that. They are about people through the prism of knitting. This book was all about the knitting, so I think it fell flat.
I think I would enjoy hanging out and talking knitting with the author. And I think I'll check out her blog, because her style seems really well-suited for that format and I'd bet I would enjoy it. But, I'm going to leave this one out of my book. :)
Update: if I write that book I probably won't include this one. It didn't quite work. The writer couldn't decide if she was writing purely for an audience of knitters (the only people who would be remotely interested in this book) or if she was trying to explain knitters to non-knitters. So there were lots of knitterly references interspersed with detailed descriptions of knitting terms. So, half the book feels like it is for one audience, half for another. But I don't think either would be quite satisfied.
I think the author actually hits on the problem when she interviews the Yarn Harlot. They decide that the key to the success of the Harlot's books about knitting is that they aren't really about that. They are about people through the prism of knitting. This book was all about the knitting, so I think it fell flat.
I think I would enjoy hanging out and talking knitting with the author. And I think I'll check out her blog, because her style seems really well-suited for that format and I'd bet I would enjoy it. But, I'm going to leave this one out of my book. :)
July 14, 2015
"Had I not discovered knitting, I would not be the paragon of sanity that I am today."
So begins Adrienne Martini's Sweater Quest: My Year of Knitting Dangerously. She tells us that after the birth of her first child, she experienced postnatal depression so severely she needed to be hospitalised. During that time, she discovered knitting and, long after she stopped taking the drugs she needed to get well, knitting stuck with her. She had a second child - less eventfully this time - and kept knitting, using knitting to help her get through the long nights and sleep-deprived days.
However, after raising her kids for a few years, Adrienne gets bored. The tedium of everyday life means an entire year has passed her by without anything interesting happening. This (for obvious reasons) sucks, so Adrienne decides to set herself a goal of knitting an Alice Starmore sweater in one year and chronicling her journey in what became this book.
I was quite disappointed with this book. Martini has a really engaging tone and at time her discursive excursions into parts of knitting history, like the history of fair isle, were really engaging. However, the book just didn't know what it wanted to be. It wasn't really a knitting book, because there's very little about the actual knitting of the sweater. There are also these really odd quite patronising sections in which basic knitting concepts are explained in detail ("remember, circular knitting makes a tube") but an understanding of the online knitting community is expected. It was a project that Martini obviously needed because some sense of excitement or purpose was missing from her life but it's not a memoir, because Martini never tells us much about her everyday life. What we're left with is a journal of Martini's travels to visit famous knitters and basically transcripts of the conversations she had with them, which I'm sure was super interesting for her but, for the reader, not so much. There's so much missing information in the storyline - why Alice Starmore? Why this particular Alice Starmore sweater? In one bit, she gets most of her wool in one brand but one colour only comes in a different base, which is a disaster...that is never mentioned again. Why did the editor not bring this to Martini's attention? Not good enough, team Sweater Quest.
The end of the book is really rushed - the last three months take up only 14 pages - and there is a sense that Martini is really bored with the whole thing. Most bewildering for me, is that *spoiler alert* the whole time she has been knitting a sweater that is not her size. She's spent hundreds, maybe thousands, of dollars on a project that will not fit. WHY?!?!? Look, I think Martini sounds like someone who would be fun to have a coffee and a chat with, but this book needed a lot more work on it before going to print. Two stars.
So begins Adrienne Martini's Sweater Quest: My Year of Knitting Dangerously. She tells us that after the birth of her first child, she experienced postnatal depression so severely she needed to be hospitalised. During that time, she discovered knitting and, long after she stopped taking the drugs she needed to get well, knitting stuck with her. She had a second child - less eventfully this time - and kept knitting, using knitting to help her get through the long nights and sleep-deprived days.
However, after raising her kids for a few years, Adrienne gets bored. The tedium of everyday life means an entire year has passed her by without anything interesting happening. This (for obvious reasons) sucks, so Adrienne decides to set herself a goal of knitting an Alice Starmore sweater in one year and chronicling her journey in what became this book.
I was quite disappointed with this book. Martini has a really engaging tone and at time her discursive excursions into parts of knitting history, like the history of fair isle, were really engaging. However, the book just didn't know what it wanted to be. It wasn't really a knitting book, because there's very little about the actual knitting of the sweater. There are also these really odd quite patronising sections in which basic knitting concepts are explained in detail ("remember, circular knitting makes a tube") but an understanding of the online knitting community is expected. It was a project that Martini obviously needed because some sense of excitement or purpose was missing from her life but it's not a memoir, because Martini never tells us much about her everyday life. What we're left with is a journal of Martini's travels to visit famous knitters and basically transcripts of the conversations she had with them, which I'm sure was super interesting for her but, for the reader, not so much. There's so much missing information in the storyline - why Alice Starmore? Why this particular Alice Starmore sweater? In one bit, she gets most of her wool in one brand but one colour only comes in a different base, which is a disaster...that is never mentioned again. Why did the editor not bring this to Martini's attention? Not good enough, team Sweater Quest.
The end of the book is really rushed - the last three months take up only 14 pages - and there is a sense that Martini is really bored with the whole thing. Most bewildering for me, is that *spoiler alert* the whole time she has been knitting a sweater that is not her size. She's spent hundreds, maybe thousands, of dollars on a project that will not fit. WHY?!?!? Look, I think Martini sounds like someone who would be fun to have a coffee and a chat with, but this book needed a lot more work on it before going to print. Two stars.
June 11, 2015
It seems like such a silly idea: A memoir about knitting a sweater? But like Stephanie Pearl-McPhee (who makes an appearance), Martini isn't really writing about knitting. She's writing about knitters. Mostly, just one knitter.
Over the course a year, Martini sets out to complete a sweater known as "Mary Tudor". As she tackles the challenges of acquiring an out-of-print pattern and substituting for out-of-production yarns (no small feat for a project in which color is key) as well as stranded colorwork and steeking, she gathers together details about the designer, Alice Starmore. She explores why knitters are so attracted to Starmore's famously difficult-to-obtain and difficult-to-knit patterns, and how far they can stray from the designer's vision yet still remain faithful to the project.
Martini travels to Rhinebeck, Nashville, and Toronto to interview bloggers well-known to knitters around the world. The history of Tudor Roses and the Alice Starmore brand intertwine with the history of knitting in the Shetland Isles and North America and the life one particular American woman in the early twenty-first century. Witty and self-deprecating, Martini doesn't hesitate to share her liberal leanings or drop the occasional curse word. Her writing style is clean and sharp, a pleasure to read. She's clearly aware of the absurdity of her "quest", which just makes it all the more enjoyable.
Over the course a year, Martini sets out to complete a sweater known as "Mary Tudor". As she tackles the challenges of acquiring an out-of-print pattern and substituting for out-of-production yarns (no small feat for a project in which color is key) as well as stranded colorwork and steeking, she gathers together details about the designer, Alice Starmore. She explores why knitters are so attracted to Starmore's famously difficult-to-obtain and difficult-to-knit patterns, and how far they can stray from the designer's vision yet still remain faithful to the project.
Martini travels to Rhinebeck, Nashville, and Toronto to interview bloggers well-known to knitters around the world. The history of Tudor Roses and the Alice Starmore brand intertwine with the history of knitting in the Shetland Isles and North America and the life one particular American woman in the early twenty-first century. Witty and self-deprecating, Martini doesn't hesitate to share her liberal leanings or drop the occasional curse word. Her writing style is clean and sharp, a pleasure to read. She's clearly aware of the absurdity of her "quest", which just makes it all the more enjoyable.
April 28, 2011
This book is about a knitter who decides to take on the mother of all knitting projects and what it took to complete it. I realize the premise of the story may be boring for many. But I knit so I thought it would be a good read. Wow. I was wrong. It was dull. I believe the author was trying to have her Julia/Julia moment. She even has the mantra a year of knitting dangerously as Julie had with her cooking dangerously. The only slightly entertaining part of the book was the calculations of what the project cost her. The pattern alone was $160 for an out of print book. And then she had other expenses such as a membership to audible.com for books to listen to as she knits. The real kicker is that in the end of that year:
Spoiler Alert:
The sweater did not fit!
The author was okay that the year project ended without a wearable item for herself because it was the entire joy of the journey type thing. I just finished sewing a shirt that doesn't fit that cost me $10 and 2 hours and I'm upset about it. I can't imagine a year without reaching the goal of the completion of the elusive Mary Tudor sweater.
Spoiler Alert:
The sweater did not fit!
The author was okay that the year project ended without a wearable item for herself because it was the entire joy of the journey type thing. I just finished sewing a shirt that doesn't fit that cost me $10 and 2 hours and I'm upset about it. I can't imagine a year without reaching the goal of the completion of the elusive Mary Tudor sweater.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 20, 2015
I'm really confused as to who she thought her audience was. The only people who are going to read a book about sweater knitting are knitters, yet she stops to define EVERY. SINGLE. KNITTING. TERM. Thanks, I already know that, that's why I'm reading this book.
Beyond that, even the idea of the book is a little eh. I don't consider her sweater to really be that big of a deal--people make fair isle sweaters all the time. It certainly is not as big of a deal as she makes it. Though some of the history was interesting, in the end this book is nothing to write home about.
*Super pedantic sidenote: And the cover is horrible because it's a bulky single ply yarn, not at all what you would knit a fair-isle garment with.
Beyond that, even the idea of the book is a little eh. I don't consider her sweater to really be that big of a deal--people make fair isle sweaters all the time. It certainly is not as big of a deal as she makes it. Though some of the history was interesting, in the end this book is nothing to write home about.
*Super pedantic sidenote: And the cover is horrible because it's a bulky single ply yarn, not at all what you would knit a fair-isle garment with.
May 27, 2010
I was sadly underwhelmed by this book. There were some cute parts, and funny parts, but by the end the book seemed far less about knitting and more about knitterly name-dropping. It seemed that she lost stride with the book when she lost stride with the project - and, frankly, finishing the book was a bit of a slog for me, too. Positive: it made me want to knit. But it felt like this, too, was an assignment for her, and one that she felt more dutiful than passionate about.
February 5, 2014
An accomplished writer who knits, rather than a knitter who tries to write. The quality of this work is excellent. I liked it a lot better than the last book of this type that I tried, Julie and Julia : 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen.
Who we have here is a free-lance writer who wanted to write a book around the same time that she wanted to take on a particularly difficult knitting project. She sold the idea of combining these two yens to her agent. A star is born.
The theme of the work seems to be why we knit. She interviews some powerful luminaries of our knitting community about this question, but they are not presented as research. Instead we learn about the trip up to go see the person, their visit with each other, where they went together, in some cases what they ate. The interview is blended seamlessly into the narrative so that it isn't until you sit back and recollect the book that you realize it happened on purpose.
We learn of the author's family, her friends, her students, her blog, and the online knitting community that supports us all. There is talk of copyright law, of travel, of writers and of knitting designers and of knitwear architecture. I was surprised that for a nonfiction book, I had difficulty putting it down.
She arranged the work chronologically, so we come across themes as she did. My only disappointment is that due to the nature of the work, there is highly unlikely to be any other similar from this author. As soon as I finished it I took it to Mom and said, "You'll like this."
All in all, recommended for anyone who crafts.
Who we have here is a free-lance writer who wanted to write a book around the same time that she wanted to take on a particularly difficult knitting project. She sold the idea of combining these two yens to her agent. A star is born.
The theme of the work seems to be why we knit. She interviews some powerful luminaries of our knitting community about this question, but they are not presented as research. Instead we learn about the trip up to go see the person, their visit with each other, where they went together, in some cases what they ate. The interview is blended seamlessly into the narrative so that it isn't until you sit back and recollect the book that you realize it happened on purpose.
We learn of the author's family, her friends, her students, her blog, and the online knitting community that supports us all. There is talk of copyright law, of travel, of writers and of knitting designers and of knitwear architecture. I was surprised that for a nonfiction book, I had difficulty putting it down.
She arranged the work chronologically, so we come across themes as she did. My only disappointment is that due to the nature of the work, there is highly unlikely to be any other similar from this author. As soon as I finished it I took it to Mom and said, "You'll like this."
All in all, recommended for anyone who crafts.
January 20, 2016
You know you're a knitter when you will actually willingly read a book about someone else knitting something else that you're not even remotely interested in knitting.
It's not a bad book. Parts were really really good.
Parts were extremely good.
But at the end of the day, it's a book about knitting a really big sweater and wondering repeatedly if she's knitting "a Starmore" sweater--which is a question I have no interest in. I love patterns. I love knitting. However, part of the fun is taking someone's pattern and making it my sweater. I don't like the colors--CHANGE THEM. I don't like the neckline--ADD A HOOD. In fact, I get supremely frustrated when a designer names a pattern after the color of yarn they knitted it in originally. I WILL NOT BE TOLD WHAT TO DO.
So this whole idea that unless you use Alice Starmore's yarn selections and yarn choices, you're not knitting her sweater is just not even a question that I would consider. But this question is considered endlessly. And it got a bit...frustrating.
I did like her discussions of the knitting process, and now I totally want to knit a fair isle sweater...but if I could go back in time, I don't think I would cast on for this book (see what I did there!).
SPOILER ALERT
and after all that ... the sweater doesn't fit.
It's not a bad book. Parts were really really good.
Parts were extremely good.
But at the end of the day, it's a book about knitting a really big sweater and wondering repeatedly if she's knitting "a Starmore" sweater--which is a question I have no interest in. I love patterns. I love knitting. However, part of the fun is taking someone's pattern and making it my sweater. I don't like the colors--CHANGE THEM. I don't like the neckline--ADD A HOOD. In fact, I get supremely frustrated when a designer names a pattern after the color of yarn they knitted it in originally. I WILL NOT BE TOLD WHAT TO DO.
So this whole idea that unless you use Alice Starmore's yarn selections and yarn choices, you're not knitting her sweater is just not even a question that I would consider. But this question is considered endlessly. And it got a bit...frustrating.
I did like her discussions of the knitting process, and now I totally want to knit a fair isle sweater...but if I could go back in time, I don't think I would cast on for this book (see what I did there!).
SPOILER ALERT
and after all that ... the sweater doesn't fit.
July 7, 2010
I liked this book better than Julie & Julia, but that's not saying much, because that book really ticked me off. There is a style of humor and a level of whining in these books that annoys me but also makes me feel like part of the "older generation". But I simply don't accept that humor must be so derisive and pathetic to be entertaining.
Pathetic. I felt Ms. Martini was rather pathetic in her approach to her challenging knitting project. It was so anticlimactic to discover that the sweater she spent a year knitting did not fit her when it was finished, but this just tells the reader that Knitting is Hard when in fact many beginning knitters produce successful sweaters that fit.
As a knitter, I was offended. We can all do better. We often do.
Pathetic. I felt Ms. Martini was rather pathetic in her approach to her challenging knitting project. It was so anticlimactic to discover that the sweater she spent a year knitting did not fit her when it was finished, but this just tells the reader that Knitting is Hard when in fact many beginning knitters produce successful sweaters that fit.
As a knitter, I was offended. We can all do better. We often do.
June 5, 2010
Adrienne Martini is on a quest: a quest to knit a complex sweater. The pattern is called Mary Tudor, and it is designed by Alice Starmore. With an out of print pattern to procure, numerous skeins of unique yarn to purchase, and a not-so-firm grasp of Fair Isle knitting techniques, Martini seems almost doomed to fail.
And to make things worse, I just looked for the Mary Tudor sweater online. It is ugly.
So, in the process of knitting this sweater, our knitter talks to tons of fellow knitters (some famous, some not) and goes on and on about this Alice Starmore person. Two words, Ms. Martini: nobody cares.
And to make things worse, I just looked for the Mary Tudor sweater online. It is ugly.
So, in the process of knitting this sweater, our knitter talks to tons of fellow knitters (some famous, some not) and goes on and on about this Alice Starmore person. Two words, Ms. Martini: nobody cares.
February 21, 2011
This book pulled me in because it is about knitting. I did enjoy reading about Alice Starmore, whom I had never heard of before and I enjoyed some of the bits about why knitters knit. However, it was pretty boring at times and the only thing that got me through was wondering more about Alice. This would have at least gotten two stars if it weren't for the ending. I was extremely disappointed that in the last few pages of the book she threw in a big nasty word and then started raving about her radical political ideas and putting down anyone who thought differently. If I'd wanted to read about someone's political views I wouldn't have picked up a book about knitting.
April 3, 2010
So this gets 4 stars mostly because it exceeded my relatively low expectations. Alice Starmore is a sweater designer who creates very complicated color patterns. Martini gives herself a year to knit one. Along the way, she talks about the formation of the online knit-blog community and Starmore's bizarre intellectual copyright fights, and interviews some of the current stars of the knitting world. I'm not sure that non-knitters would enjoy it, but it is informative and funny, and I'd recommend it to anyone who plays with yarn, whether you embrace it as a feminist act or not.
September 3, 2011
Not bad...not a lot about the actual knitting of the sweater, more like an excuse to interview some of the most well-known knitters of today. It wasn't the most wonderful book on knitting I've read, but I certainly enjoyed it and passed it on to another knitter I know. I enjoyed especially the bits about the writer's "process" of learning to knit fair isle, and I was fascinated by the entire Starmore controversy--I'd NO IDEA what a complicated person she is. A good read, if only for the culture of it.
September 6, 2010
What I thought was going to be a book about knitting the Holy Grail of sweaters was more of a look into knitting history, copyright law, intellectual property and conversations with the current "big names" of knitting.
Once I forced myself to realize this was not a book about knitting a sweater, it was interesting to a point(I gave it an extra star for the "learning about knitting history" factor) but by the end, I wanted it to be over.
Once I forced myself to realize this was not a book about knitting a sweater, it was interesting to a point(I gave it an extra star for the "learning about knitting history" factor) but by the end, I wanted it to be over.
February 27, 2025
A fun, light, eash to read, all around enjoyable book - if you are a knitter. I actually learned quite a bit about knitting, yarn, designers, and blogs. She writes in a way that you are learning and thinking while also chuckling!!! She actually does make you think - about why a person might knit, about why we knit the projects we knit and if we knit to enjoy the process or knit to enjoy the product! You finish the book knowing whether you are a beginner knitter or an accomplished knitter you are part of a unique community of creative individuals.
November 29, 2017
An elegy to knitting!
May 28, 2010
I wasn't sure what to expect with this book. I usually don't read anything written about knitting unless it is a pattern, or instructions on technique. I did read one Yarn Harlot book once, but that was a fluke (I did actually like it).
This book did a lot of things that suprised me, one thing that really annoyed me (though this is through my own OCD), and at least two things that should have annoyed me, but didn't. Let me elaborate...
First, the thing that really annoyed me. Here, I should say that I have not seen the book Tudor Roses, nor do I ever really expect to, given that the price asked on Amazon for a copy is currently $400. Mayhaps I could borrow it from one of the 18 libraries that have records in OCLC...
But I digress. Since I haven't seen the book, I haven't read Alice Starmore's description of the pattern for Mary Tudor. Until Adrienne Martini elaborates on the history behind the patterns in Tudor Roses, I assumed that the pattern was named for Mary I, Henry VIII's daughter by his first wife, Katherine of Aragon, and the queen that succeeded Edward VI, and preceeded Elizabeth I. According to Martini, it is actually named for Mary, one of Henry VIII's two sisters. This could well be (though I will continue to think of it as a sweater for Mary I, thank you). However, in going into the "history lesson," Martini calls Mary I "Bloody Mary." This tends to torque me off, wherever I see it (I spent a year studying Mary I and Catholicism in England during her reign for my undergraduate thesis, but I won't bore you with details of why she shouldn't be called "Bloody Mary"). This detail aside, I thought Martini did a pretty good job summing up the house of Tudor.
Now for the things that should have annoyed me, but didn't. One: I HATE name-dropping in knitting circles. I hear it all the time... "Oh, the Yarn Harlot said..." or "When I met Kaffe at such-and-such retreat..." I even hate it when people drop the name of a particular pattern... "Nice February Lady!" I think the reason that this annoys me so much is that it seems like the majority of the time, people are trying to get knitter cred by showing off how many names they know or patterns they know by name. This also annoys me because I rarely pay attention to names... I just say "wow, I like your sweater." However, Martini's social network of knitters, many of whom are famous in the knitting world, didn't really bother me all that much. I didn't get the pretentious feeling one bit from her discussion of various popular authors or designers.
Second thing:Her constant worry about whether or not her sweater was a "Starmore." At first, this did bother me. I am not shy about substituting yarn in a pattern. In fact, I fall into the "that's just a suggestion" camp she describes in the book. But the more I read, and researched various Starmore patterns, the more I understood her pondering this thought. I myself have now become obsessed with knitting a "Starmore," which defies my usual annoyance with both name-dropping and obsession with authenticity.
Finally, Martini really surprised me in how much she incorporated from conversations with other knitters and designers, and how little she focused on the actual knitting. I can't explain why, but this actually made the book more enjoyable for me. Maybe because I am an adventurous knitter myself, I don't need to read about the minutae of someone else's knitting experience. I did find her commentary on knitting social networks fascinating, and the way she used her sweater as a vehicle to explore broader concepts in the knitting world.
I really enjoyed this book.
This book did a lot of things that suprised me, one thing that really annoyed me (though this is through my own OCD), and at least two things that should have annoyed me, but didn't. Let me elaborate...
First, the thing that really annoyed me. Here, I should say that I have not seen the book Tudor Roses, nor do I ever really expect to, given that the price asked on Amazon for a copy is currently $400. Mayhaps I could borrow it from one of the 18 libraries that have records in OCLC...
But I digress. Since I haven't seen the book, I haven't read Alice Starmore's description of the pattern for Mary Tudor. Until Adrienne Martini elaborates on the history behind the patterns in Tudor Roses, I assumed that the pattern was named for Mary I, Henry VIII's daughter by his first wife, Katherine of Aragon, and the queen that succeeded Edward VI, and preceeded Elizabeth I. According to Martini, it is actually named for Mary, one of Henry VIII's two sisters. This could well be (though I will continue to think of it as a sweater for Mary I, thank you). However, in going into the "history lesson," Martini calls Mary I "Bloody Mary." This tends to torque me off, wherever I see it (I spent a year studying Mary I and Catholicism in England during her reign for my undergraduate thesis, but I won't bore you with details of why she shouldn't be called "Bloody Mary"). This detail aside, I thought Martini did a pretty good job summing up the house of Tudor.
Now for the things that should have annoyed me, but didn't. One: I HATE name-dropping in knitting circles. I hear it all the time... "Oh, the Yarn Harlot said..." or "When I met Kaffe at such-and-such retreat..." I even hate it when people drop the name of a particular pattern... "Nice February Lady!" I think the reason that this annoys me so much is that it seems like the majority of the time, people are trying to get knitter cred by showing off how many names they know or patterns they know by name. This also annoys me because I rarely pay attention to names... I just say "wow, I like your sweater." However, Martini's social network of knitters, many of whom are famous in the knitting world, didn't really bother me all that much. I didn't get the pretentious feeling one bit from her discussion of various popular authors or designers.
Second thing:Her constant worry about whether or not her sweater was a "Starmore." At first, this did bother me. I am not shy about substituting yarn in a pattern. In fact, I fall into the "that's just a suggestion" camp she describes in the book. But the more I read, and researched various Starmore patterns, the more I understood her pondering this thought. I myself have now become obsessed with knitting a "Starmore," which defies my usual annoyance with both name-dropping and obsession with authenticity.
Finally, Martini really surprised me in how much she incorporated from conversations with other knitters and designers, and how little she focused on the actual knitting. I can't explain why, but this actually made the book more enjoyable for me. Maybe because I am an adventurous knitter myself, I don't need to read about the minutae of someone else's knitting experience. I did find her commentary on knitting social networks fascinating, and the way she used her sweater as a vehicle to explore broader concepts in the knitting world.
I really enjoyed this book.
December 29, 2010
This book is about the author's quest to knit an Alice Starmore fair-isle sweater in the course of a year. She chronicles her progress, interspersed with some knitting humor, interviews with various knitting "celebrities" such as Stephanie Pearl-McPhee (Yarn Harlot) Kay Gardiner, and Ann Shayne (both of Mason-Dixon Knitting). She also gives a lot of the history of Starmore's rise and subsequent distancing of herself from the knitting world, over arguments of copyright, etc. I found the explanations about Starmore interesting and educational, and they certainly did nothing to change my mind about Starmore herself. However, the book as a whole was just OK, nothing special. Martini throws in quite a bit of her personal political and (non)-religious leanings which annoyed me, so maybe that's why I didn't care as much for it.
May 30, 2010
I think my main problem with this book is that it didn't feel like a *quest*. The author had some difficulties getting the right yarn (and this did include an interesting look at Starmore's expertise with color) but then the knitting itself was apparently mostly uneventful. Instead the focus is on the author's discussions with some other knitting bloggers and authors. I would have been interested in reading more about some issues that she barely mentioned, like sizing/fit.
I'm also not sure who the audience is meant to be - I can't imagine a non-knitter finding most of this interesting, but the book includes long textual explanations of the basics of knitting that knitters wouldn't need (and that don't work that well without illustrations.)
I'm also not sure who the audience is meant to be - I can't imagine a non-knitter finding most of this interesting, but the book includes long textual explanations of the basics of knitting that knitters wouldn't need (and that don't work that well without illustrations.)
April 13, 2022
As someone who adores books about the creative process and a knitter as well, I wanted to read "Sweater Quest" as soon as I heard about it on a knitting podcast. I spotted one of my friends with the book, and asked to borrow it.
I had problems with it from the start. The author's attempts at Stephanie Pearl-McPhee-esque humor fell flat or she just sounded whiny. A brutal editing would help since it jumps willy-nilly from subject to subject and isn't quite sure whether to target knitter or non knitters.
After plowing through half of it, and not enjoying the process, I gave up. I enjoyed learning about Alice Starmore and the history of fair isle knitting, but I'd really like to see a better book for such a worthy subject.
I had problems with it from the start. The author's attempts at Stephanie Pearl-McPhee-esque humor fell flat or she just sounded whiny. A brutal editing would help since it jumps willy-nilly from subject to subject and isn't quite sure whether to target knitter or non knitters.
After plowing through half of it, and not enjoying the process, I gave up. I enjoyed learning about Alice Starmore and the history of fair isle knitting, but I'd really like to see a better book for such a worthy subject.
September 6, 2010
This book was a disappointment. The author combined her project of knitting a difficult Fair Isle sweater pattern with interviews/visits with various knitting gurus; somehow the project gets lost with all the back and forth from this interview to that visit to a knitting retreat to that visit to a sheep and wool festival, and it is not altogether a surprise to find out toward the end of the book that the author really was not working on the sweater for the whole year. From pictures online the sweater is beautiful and the book does offer a look into the knitting community.
May 23, 2023
I started truly enjoying the book, but at the end it started being repetitive and it finished like the sweater she knees, short of my expectations.
December 26, 2025
Why did I pick up this incredibly, incredibly dated work of nonfiction?
Because I like to knit and there isn't really a lot of books like this. Obviously, my dream book would be about knitting but written similar to, like, The Lonely City and its ilk, those literary nonfiction art-history infused travels through time and space, meditative and personal and elegantly written. But in a pinch, I'll settle for a very 2009 snarky blogger book.
Also, my favorite genre of YouTube video currently is the project vlog, in which a knitter, over the course of a single 20-40 (or even hour long!) episode makes a pattern into an FO (finished object, try to keep up) and the viewer (me) gets to go on an adventure with them.
If anything else, it's interesting how the knitting world has changed so dramatically in the fifteen years since. The era Adrienne Martini is capturing (eulogizing, even) is the "Stitch and Bitch" era that roughly spanned the 2000s. Knitting was suddenly cool again amongst late Gen Xers and early Millennials. This era is characterized by the following: Knitty.com, snarky bloggers, the Ravelry forums, breathtakingly ugly designs, and the weirdest victim complex known to man.
First of all, if ever a book should need pictures, it's this one. Like I said, the knitting world has changed drastically in the last fifteen years and many of the patterns held sacred to the knitting world of 2009 are not at all popular in the year 2025. No one is knitting Rogues or Clapotises anymore, or at least, no one under the age of 40. Likewise, I have little doubt that if I make it to 2045 and utter the words “Sophie Scarf” or “Ranunculus”, the young cool knitters would have no idea what I was talking about.
Well, maybe the Sophie Scarf will gain immortality. After all, when was the last time a knitting pattern got so popular that it became a mainstream fashion trend to the point where you can’t throw a stone in New York without hitting someone wearing a tiny little scrap of cashmere around their neck.
The Ranunculus will always be ugly or maybe I just hate lace yoke sweaters.
The only reason why I know what the Mary Tudor even looks like is because I have a copy of Tudor Roses sitting right beside me as I type this. At some point in 2013, the book was reprinted and updated, so it’s not quite THE Mary Tudor but it’s close enough.
The acid green much rhapsodized and agonized over has been left out of the 2013 print, by the way. That's actually very funny.
(My review of Tudor Roses (2013), briefly: Well-written patterns, not really my style but fun to look at. Not the most size inclusive- the smallest size is usually graded for a 35" bust which means it'll swim on me but at least that means I can be lazy about gauge swatching if I do decide to knit something from this book for the challenge alone)
So this book was, I think, supposed to ape one of those buzzy outdoorsy and travel memoirs that get popular every so often (see the subtitle) but the issue with that is that Martini is an experienced knitter, albeit one mostly focused on hats and socks, so very little is difficult to her and honestly, the hardest thing about stranded colorwork is juggling balls of yarn that want to tangle. That’s it. If you can read a chart and have a consistent tension with stockinette, then you can knit any colorwork design you want. And I think Martini discovered that, too, because at some point the actual making of the Mary Tudor drops off considerably and we are treated mostly to interviews and brief summaries of what are essentially vacations to visit famous knitters. Well, famous as of, again, 2008/2009. I didn’t know who any of those people were, and I am a reasonably online knitter so, suffice it to say, the Yarn Harlot is not doing the numbers she used to.
Still, they were all interesting if only to learn that the knitting Mecca at one point used to be Toronto- and there is no mention of Copenhagen or anywhere Nordic in general which is crazy considering the absolute dominance of Nordic, especially Danish, designers now. I do think that the yoga lady should probably have been cut given that her interview had very little to do with knitting in the first place.
What doesn’t really help this book, however, and ultimately why it gets the rating is does is because Martini’s voice is obnoxious and a lot of what she was trying to say I found kind of annoying. I said above that knitters of the Stitch n Bitch era have the weirdest victim complex known to man and it does come out in spades in this book as she complains about the various ways knitters are judged for liking an “old lady” hobby, or that knitting is much more looked down upon than golf, an old man hobby. She really, really harps on this. I don’t know why some knitters are so insistent on seeing themselves as some poor oppressed class because they happen to partake in a traditionally feminine hobby. And there’s the usual hobby awe, woo-woo about why knitters are DIFFERENT and SPECIAL because they make THINGS out of STICKS and STRING. Why do people knit? I don’t know. I think it’s fun and I like having something to do with my hands. I guess I just struggle to understand why I should froth at the mouth every time a man goes near a pair of knitting needles or every time I hear a joke about knitting being an old lady hobby, but maybe I just have a rare and unusual combination of “not really caring what other people think about my hobby” and “not considering my hobby part of my identity” attitudes towards knitting.
But more than that, the actual thematic question Martini has chosen to center this book around is… stupid? Like, I don’t know why she’s hemming and hawing about whether she’s making a REAL STARMORE just because she substituted the yarn and swapped out some colors, or why she’s judging other knitters for doing the same thing. It’s just not that deep, okay? Maybe this was more of a thing back in the 2000s, but nowadays it’s pretty universally agreed that yarn suggestions are just that, yarn suggestions. I’m currently knitting a cherry red Sophie Scarf in brushed cashmere and merino, it’s still the Sophie Scarf despite the fact that I changed the yarn color and brand. If you followed the pattern exactly or modified it slightly you still made the fucking pattern, what’s the big deal? There was also a weird aside with her making a big deal about the yarn she bought being notably different from the one color of Alice Starmore yarn she was given to use in the sweater but then it was never brought up again.
I suppose I can’t blame her. We’ve all had our fair share of random knitting crash outs.
Do I recommend this book? I mean, not really no? So why did I waste so many words on this review? I don’t know, I like talking about knitting. It’s fun to read a book about knitting and then talk about it on a platform not about knitting. A wonderful intersection of my hobbies and interests! Also a vast improvement, I’m sure, as to what I usually talk about on this website.
Because I like to knit and there isn't really a lot of books like this. Obviously, my dream book would be about knitting but written similar to, like, The Lonely City and its ilk, those literary nonfiction art-history infused travels through time and space, meditative and personal and elegantly written. But in a pinch, I'll settle for a very 2009 snarky blogger book.
Also, my favorite genre of YouTube video currently is the project vlog, in which a knitter, over the course of a single 20-40 (or even hour long!) episode makes a pattern into an FO (finished object, try to keep up) and the viewer (me) gets to go on an adventure with them.
If anything else, it's interesting how the knitting world has changed so dramatically in the fifteen years since. The era Adrienne Martini is capturing (eulogizing, even) is the "Stitch and Bitch" era that roughly spanned the 2000s. Knitting was suddenly cool again amongst late Gen Xers and early Millennials. This era is characterized by the following: Knitty.com, snarky bloggers, the Ravelry forums, breathtakingly ugly designs, and the weirdest victim complex known to man.
First of all, if ever a book should need pictures, it's this one. Like I said, the knitting world has changed drastically in the last fifteen years and many of the patterns held sacred to the knitting world of 2009 are not at all popular in the year 2025. No one is knitting Rogues or Clapotises anymore, or at least, no one under the age of 40. Likewise, I have little doubt that if I make it to 2045 and utter the words “Sophie Scarf” or “Ranunculus”, the young cool knitters would have no idea what I was talking about.
Well, maybe the Sophie Scarf will gain immortality. After all, when was the last time a knitting pattern got so popular that it became a mainstream fashion trend to the point where you can’t throw a stone in New York without hitting someone wearing a tiny little scrap of cashmere around their neck.
The Ranunculus will always be ugly or maybe I just hate lace yoke sweaters.
The only reason why I know what the Mary Tudor even looks like is because I have a copy of Tudor Roses sitting right beside me as I type this. At some point in 2013, the book was reprinted and updated, so it’s not quite THE Mary Tudor but it’s close enough.
The acid green much rhapsodized and agonized over has been left out of the 2013 print, by the way. That's actually very funny.
(My review of Tudor Roses (2013), briefly: Well-written patterns, not really my style but fun to look at. Not the most size inclusive- the smallest size is usually graded for a 35" bust which means it'll swim on me but at least that means I can be lazy about gauge swatching if I do decide to knit something from this book for the challenge alone)
So this book was, I think, supposed to ape one of those buzzy outdoorsy and travel memoirs that get popular every so often (see the subtitle) but the issue with that is that Martini is an experienced knitter, albeit one mostly focused on hats and socks, so very little is difficult to her and honestly, the hardest thing about stranded colorwork is juggling balls of yarn that want to tangle. That’s it. If you can read a chart and have a consistent tension with stockinette, then you can knit any colorwork design you want. And I think Martini discovered that, too, because at some point the actual making of the Mary Tudor drops off considerably and we are treated mostly to interviews and brief summaries of what are essentially vacations to visit famous knitters. Well, famous as of, again, 2008/2009. I didn’t know who any of those people were, and I am a reasonably online knitter so, suffice it to say, the Yarn Harlot is not doing the numbers she used to.
Still, they were all interesting if only to learn that the knitting Mecca at one point used to be Toronto- and there is no mention of Copenhagen or anywhere Nordic in general which is crazy considering the absolute dominance of Nordic, especially Danish, designers now. I do think that the yoga lady should probably have been cut given that her interview had very little to do with knitting in the first place.
What doesn’t really help this book, however, and ultimately why it gets the rating is does is because Martini’s voice is obnoxious and a lot of what she was trying to say I found kind of annoying. I said above that knitters of the Stitch n Bitch era have the weirdest victim complex known to man and it does come out in spades in this book as she complains about the various ways knitters are judged for liking an “old lady” hobby, or that knitting is much more looked down upon than golf, an old man hobby. She really, really harps on this. I don’t know why some knitters are so insistent on seeing themselves as some poor oppressed class because they happen to partake in a traditionally feminine hobby. And there’s the usual hobby awe, woo-woo about why knitters are DIFFERENT and SPECIAL because they make THINGS out of STICKS and STRING. Why do people knit? I don’t know. I think it’s fun and I like having something to do with my hands. I guess I just struggle to understand why I should froth at the mouth every time a man goes near a pair of knitting needles or every time I hear a joke about knitting being an old lady hobby, but maybe I just have a rare and unusual combination of “not really caring what other people think about my hobby” and “not considering my hobby part of my identity” attitudes towards knitting.
But more than that, the actual thematic question Martini has chosen to center this book around is… stupid? Like, I don’t know why she’s hemming and hawing about whether she’s making a REAL STARMORE just because she substituted the yarn and swapped out some colors, or why she’s judging other knitters for doing the same thing. It’s just not that deep, okay? Maybe this was more of a thing back in the 2000s, but nowadays it’s pretty universally agreed that yarn suggestions are just that, yarn suggestions. I’m currently knitting a cherry red Sophie Scarf in brushed cashmere and merino, it’s still the Sophie Scarf despite the fact that I changed the yarn color and brand. If you followed the pattern exactly or modified it slightly you still made the fucking pattern, what’s the big deal? There was also a weird aside with her making a big deal about the yarn she bought being notably different from the one color of Alice Starmore yarn she was given to use in the sweater but then it was never brought up again.
I suppose I can’t blame her. We’ve all had our fair share of random knitting crash outs.
Do I recommend this book? I mean, not really no? So why did I waste so many words on this review? I don’t know, I like talking about knitting. It’s fun to read a book about knitting and then talk about it on a platform not about knitting. A wonderful intersection of my hobbies and interests! Also a vast improvement, I’m sure, as to what I usually talk about on this website.
April 19, 2010
Well, I read another one of those I-think-I'll-challenge-myself-with-something-really-hard-for-one-year-and-then-write-about-it books. This one happens to be about knitting. Adrienne Martini takes on what she calls the "Holy Grail" of knitting projects, an Alice Starmore Fair Isle Sweater. Before reading this, I didn't know much about the reclusive designer, Alice Starmore. I had seen some of her books and dismissed them as either too 80's or just out of my league. Martini begins her journey obtaining the out-of-print Starmore book, Enlgish Roses for the pattern for the Mary Tudor sweater. Aside from her knitting challenge, she philosophizes about why we knit. Is it the transformation of a pile of string into something else? Is it the community? Do knitters knit for the stress-relief it brings? It's all these things and more. She also goes into detail about Fair Isle. It always seemed like a place out of folklore, but it's real and very interesting. The other thing she contends with is if one makes any substitutions on an Alice Starmore creation, does it cease to be an Alice Starmore sweater (so philosophical)? Apparently, she's a genius with color combinations and a knitter will destroy her art by changing anything! Most of the yarns required for the project are difficult to find if not in production at all anymore. Of course, this just added to the difficulty of the sweater project. I could completely understand that she knit this sweater not to wear it, but for the process itself. As a knitter myself, I understand more and more that it's process more than product that I'm interested. I found this little memoir a fun read, although I found Martini a little unlikeable and snarky at times. She touched on all the things I love about knitting.
August 27, 2015
This was one of those books that I think every woman needs to read at some point in their life, and I don't necessarily mean this specific one. The type of books I mean are "light-hearted", "funny", "woman-oriented", and "serious, but not too serious". You know, the type of book that you read because you don't want to read about drama, or mysteries, or thrillers. You don't want to sit on the edge of your seat. You don't really want anything to happen. You just want to read for the pure enjoyment and relaxation, and then forget about it later. This is that type of book.
"Sweater Quest: My Year of Knitting Dangerously" is about the author, Adrienne Martini, and her quest to knit the infamous "Mary Tudor" by Alice Starmore, a sweater that lives on in infamy as surely as its designer. This is the quest to find the yarn and recreate the original sweater, exactly as it was designed, or so Adrienne hopes. Along the way she finds that maybe her sweater is not necessarily the same as every other Mary Tudor sweater, and this change is signified with her decision to stop calling the sweater "Mary Tudor", and to start calling it "Lana".
This book somewhat upset me to a very small degree. The designer, Alice Starmore, is utterly full of herself. Telling someone that she has to use the exact yarn, and the exact pattern, otherwise she shouldn't knit Starmore's patterns at all is not really good branding. It's amazing that so many women have put up with this designer's "idiosyncrasies" without getting sick of her!
Otherwise, this book was a wonderful light read at this moment in my life. However, I would only recommend it to other knitters and/or other people who are interested in learning about the very controversial Alice Starmore.
"Sweater Quest: My Year of Knitting Dangerously" is about the author, Adrienne Martini, and her quest to knit the infamous "Mary Tudor" by Alice Starmore, a sweater that lives on in infamy as surely as its designer. This is the quest to find the yarn and recreate the original sweater, exactly as it was designed, or so Adrienne hopes. Along the way she finds that maybe her sweater is not necessarily the same as every other Mary Tudor sweater, and this change is signified with her decision to stop calling the sweater "Mary Tudor", and to start calling it "Lana".
This book somewhat upset me to a very small degree. The designer, Alice Starmore, is utterly full of herself. Telling someone that she has to use the exact yarn, and the exact pattern, otherwise she shouldn't knit Starmore's patterns at all is not really good branding. It's amazing that so many women have put up with this designer's "idiosyncrasies" without getting sick of her!
Otherwise, this book was a wonderful light read at this moment in my life. However, I would only recommend it to other knitters and/or other people who are interested in learning about the very controversial Alice Starmore.
July 7, 2020
Add this to the list of books I got from the library/a friend that I need to own. I originally read this because I read a review of Martini's newest book, Somebody's Gotta Do It, and while I added that to my library "hold" list, I got this one first. I usually don't like "I did it and now I'm writing about it" books but ... she's semi-local (Oneonta/Southern Tier's not that far from CNY), teaches at schools I know, and it sounded like a fascinating book and premise.
I would say I'm hooked, or she had me before she cast off, but no puns here. Martini decides to embark on a dual quest --somewhat linked to her "what will this year be about?" ritual --to make an incredibly complicated (and beautiful) sweater, and to write a book about it. Along the way, we meet the people behind popular knitting blogs, visit yarn shops, learn about a bitter legal battle, and become part of a community. As a non-knitter (or, former knitter who's now having second thoughts about giving it another try), I found the writing about community filled with power. That a modern technology (the internet) can help a very old craft (knitting), and along the way bring in a new generation of knitters, is fascinating, and says a lot about "finding your people." The speculation about the image or iconography of knitting, especially to feminism and feminists of the 1960s and 1970s, was compelling, and logical. As a person who thinks a great deal about family & consumer sciences (formerly known as home economics), I found this book resonant, cheering, and fun -- a good read, indeed!
I would say I'm hooked, or she had me before she cast off, but no puns here. Martini decides to embark on a dual quest --somewhat linked to her "what will this year be about?" ritual --to make an incredibly complicated (and beautiful) sweater, and to write a book about it. Along the way, we meet the people behind popular knitting blogs, visit yarn shops, learn about a bitter legal battle, and become part of a community. As a non-knitter (or, former knitter who's now having second thoughts about giving it another try), I found the writing about community filled with power. That a modern technology (the internet) can help a very old craft (knitting), and along the way bring in a new generation of knitters, is fascinating, and says a lot about "finding your people." The speculation about the image or iconography of knitting, especially to feminism and feminists of the 1960s and 1970s, was compelling, and logical. As a person who thinks a great deal about family & consumer sciences (formerly known as home economics), I found this book resonant, cheering, and fun -- a good read, indeed!
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