The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater: Essays on Crafting

by Alanna Okun

The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater is a memoir about life truths learned through crafting.

People who craft know things. They know how to transform piles of yarn into sweaters and scarves. They know that some items, like woolen bikini tops, are better left unknit. They know that making a hat for a newborn baby isn’t just about crafting something small but appreciating the beginnings of life, which sometimes helps make peace with the endings. They know that if you knit your boyfriend a sweater, your relationship will most likely be over before the last stitch.

Alanna Okun knows that crafting keeps her anxiety at bay. She knows that no one will ever be as good a knitting teacher as her beloved grandmother. And she knows that even when we can’t control anything else, we can at least control the sticks, string, and fabric right in front of us.

Okun lays herself bare and takes readers into the parts of themselves they often keep hidden. Yet at the same time she finds humor in the daily indignities all crafters must face (like when you catch the dreaded Second Sock Syndrome and can’t possibly finish the second in a pair). Okun has written a book that will speak to anyone who has said to themselves, or to everyone within earshot, “I made that.”

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Essays, Knitting, Audiobook, Crafts, Art

232 pages, Kindle Edition

First published March 20, 2018

About the author

Alanna Okun is a writer, editor, and crafter living in New York. She's currently a senior editor at Racked and worked at BuzzFeed for a while before that. Her work has appeared on NPR, Brooklyn Magazine, Apartment Therapy, Vogue Knitting, The Hairpin, The Billfold, and other places. She's also done segments for The Today Show, Good Morning America, and a whole bunch of local and national television and radio shows.

Her first book, The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater , was recently published by Flatiron Books.

Reviews

[Lisa Silverman · Rating 3 out of 5]

Received the ARC in a Goodreads giveaway. Amusing in places, moving in places, but it never really wowed me, even as a knitter. Possibly because it felt more like a memoir than a collection of essays about crafting, though crafting is certainly the overarching theme. And it's the memoir of a millennial (though she claims early on to hate that word) who doesn't have a long or fascinating-enough life yet to fill a memoir.

[Olive Fellows (abookolive) · Rating 5 out of 5]

See my review on Booktube!

[Christine · Rating 4 out of 5]

I received an advanced copy at the New York Sheep and Wool Festival, Miss Okun even inscribed it, "To Christine, Congrat on breaking the curse!" Dan was with me, carrying one of the 4 sweaters I'd knit him before we were married (it was too hot to wear it, but he's that loyal). We've been married 24 years.

The book itself is a collection of essays, lists, and stories. I felt like I'd met her family and friends, mourned over her losses and cheered her successes with her. It was lovely for reading aloud on the way home from Rhinebeck as my husband drove on the Mass Pike, and through the fall when I wanted something short to read before sleeping.

The cadence of the book alternated long and short, like stockinette taking turns with two color brioche. Some chapters were long, some as short as a joke. The tone was personal (sometimes more personal than I was comfortable with).

My favorite parts were her descriptions of the process of making, how it feels, how it weaves with the rest of life. I felt like, "Oh, you too?"

[Ronni · Rating 3 out of 5]

Unsurprisingly, The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater is very Buzzfeedesque: it's often funny, sometimes thought-provoking, and also a bit all over the place. I liked it but wanted to like it more.

My old roommate and I used to talk about how satisfying it is to just look at your knitting/crocheting. How proud you can feel to make something from nothing all on your own. How happy you can feel imagining its future. My roommate told me stories about learning to knit, advised me on the best yarn for hats and blankets, and warned me about the sweater curse too. It's particularly satisfying to bond with someone like this and Alanna Okun does it with words alone, nary a skein in sight. Her book is cozy and comforting and honest.

It might be too honest though. Hearing a late twenty-/early thirty-something lament her ineffectiveness in romantic relationships makes me cringe at first (why why why didn't you leave this in your journal where it belongs?) and then scoff (well, the common factor in all these relationship is you, so ...).

Yet the book shines when the author opens up about her family relationships: the ache of time passing, the anguish of growing up, and her own struggles and failures to be a better granddaughter, a better daughter, a better sister. In the best piece, about her sister's mental health and time in an inpatient program, she writes sincerely and poignantly:

"It ... made her sad that they weren't allowed scissors or other 'sharps' ... Even though she'd been in school to make collages and prints and all kinds of things, and the scissors were never the problem."

I wish that Okun had gone deeper with this book - it would've been difficult to maintain its lightheartedness, but here's the thing: I think she could have done it. I wanted more from it, but I still thoroughly enjoyed reading The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater and I'm really looking forward to more from Alanna Okun.

[Regine O · Rating 1 out of 5]

DNF. Made it through 1/4 of the book and there is just no substance to any of the stories.

I would have preferred more knitting references and less whining about losing her boyfriends.

[Alissa · Rating 5 out of 5]

I started listening to this book last month and somehow managed to not finish it until now and I’m so glad I found this collection of essays.

Listening to the author read I was taken aback at how much I related to her. I shouldn’t have been given that this is a book telling stories about how crafting has been a huge part of her life.

“Each stitch is a step forward” is not quite the final line, but pretty darn close. But it’s incredibly not wrong and in true crafters fashion, I want to embroider that onto something.

Every so often she would say something that made me stop what ever I was crafting (of course I crafted and listened) and go “Oh! Me too! That’s me!” And I would smile and go back to what I was doing.

Basically, I’m just really glad she wrote this. Because now I don’t feel so alone in my crafting.

[Whitney · Rating 3 out of 5]

It wasn't as good as I thought it would be. Too much anxiety, not enough knitting. I loved her descriptions of her relationship with her grandmother though.

[Stephanie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Alanna loves crafting. Like, she REALLY loves crafting so much that she wrote a book about it, so if you're not up for knitting talk then keep moving right along! I love hearing people talk about what they're passionate about, so I was all in for learning about public acts of crafting and "knitting prom" and why the second sock is the worst. She uses crafting, this common thread (haha) throughout her life, to get to the complicated things: friends, relationships, family, anxiety, graduation, body image... she covers it all (in yarn).

I found this book sweet, surprisingly earnest and funny, and quite vulnerable. I imagine that several of the essays were tough to put on paper, let alone print them in a published work (one of the most moving passages was when she embroidered the lies her inner voice was yelling at her - imagine "you are not enough" within an embroidery hoop). Her voice and personality really come through in the writing, which is always a delight to read.

"That's something I've always loved about crafts: they can contain so much meaning, stand for so much more than they are, and still just be exactly their own shape and size."

[Jennifer · Rating 2 out of 5]

::shrug:: This was okay. It didn't particularly amuse me or pull at my hearstrings. It also suffers as do many books or sitcoms with this type of "feel"; unless it's incredibly witty, I'm not drawn to stories about stereotypical affluent neurotic white women in the big city. This is more a memoir collection with each essay themed on a knitting-related metaphor rather than a collection of essays about knitting. My mismanaged expectations likely contributed to my lackluster response.

The essay from which the book's title is taken actually somewhat annoyed me. While intellectually I know I should sympathize with the author and her growing pains and insecurities, I found myself irritated that she was obnoxiously dependent on constantly having a boyfriend for a sense of self-worth. I do applaud the author for sharing her painful experiences and growth, especially her struggles with anxiety and compulsive behaviors.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

Even though I was excited for this book, I was nicely surprised. I seldom enjoy the pop culture memoirs that have proliferated these days (with all the footnotes, exclamation points, unfiltered inner-monologue-to-page transcriptions, and just, I don’t know, mannerisms in place of substance). However, these are thoughtful, well-written essays and it was unexpectedly wonderful to read about being a knitter – I didn’t realize this was an area of representation I was missing. The strongest pieces were lovely explorations of Okun’s relationships with family members and friends. Less effective were those not anchored around an event or relationship, where the tie-in to crafting seemed strained or unnecessary. And I winced through the very candid descriptions of her early romantic relationships (was it relatable? Of course. Do I want to revisit young adult love in painstaking emotional detail? Not even a little, but that’s just me).

[Arie]

I thought this might be a light, enjoyable listen while on residency focusing on textiles - theme appropriate without being too work-heavy!

But unfortunately, though I’m sure the author is utterly lovely, I was not at all interested in reading lengthy pieces about her ex boyfriends, inability to be single, or her glorious bestest bud (with, of course, the requisite knitting descriptions thrown in at random). I stuck it out as log as I could, but in the end this was a swift return to the Overdrive library for me.

[Becky · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderfully put together collection of essays. Alanna is both a riot and harshly serious, simply well written.

[Hebah · Rating 3 out of 5]

I will pretty much always pick up a book if it pertains to knitting. As a fan of Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's knitting-centered writing, I was expecting a series of highly identifiable essays where I would see myself or something very similar reflected in the writing. I did find a good deal of that as someone whose crafts also make an apartment a home and who always has at least one project in any given bag.

The thing of it is, though, that Pearl-McPhee has, er, a wider set of life experiences to draw on. Okun is still fairly young, and it comes through frequently, particularly in all the relationship angst that permeates the pieces as well as in her efforts to make each dwelling "home" through crafts and her mother's help. I suspect that content may be more relatable content to other readers than it was for me. It was a light, easy read, easy to pick up and read an essay or two between things, though, so I did enjoy it, just not as much as I was hoping going into it.

[Kirsty · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am a keen crafter, and have had my eye on Alanna Okun’s essay collection, The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater, for quite some time. I was grateful to be able to purchase a copy with some Christmas money, and settled down to read about another woman who shares similar enthusiasms to myself. I was in two minds as to whether I should review this essay collection, as it is rather a niche topic, but I do not feel as though Okun’s thoroughly entertaining book has received anywhere near the amount of attention which it deserves, especially in the UK.

Let me begin by writing about the so-called ‘curse of the boyfriend sweater’ of the book’s title. It is a superstition within the crafting community that soon after you begin knitting your significant other an item of clothing – usually a jumper, or sweater – they will end your relationship. I have knitted my boyfriend several things throughout the years we’ve been together, and we’re still very much an item, so I can’t say I believe in the ‘curse’ myself. However, I do find it interesting that it has become such a widespread view amongst knitters, crocheters, and the like. Okun includes an entire chapter detailing different things she has knitted, crocheted, or embroidered, for previous boyfriends.

Okun is honest throughout, talking about her experiences with mental health. Her crafting has helped her to make it through periods of ‘anxiety, grief, heartbreak, ecstatic joy, [and] total boredom.’ She writes that ‘even when we can’t control anything else, we can at least control the sticks, string, and fabric right in front of us.’ This is exactly the reason why so many of us turned to crafting during the many Covid lockdowns we faced globally in 2020 and 2021; making something is a comfort, and it does give us an element of power, however small and tentative, in such uncertain times. As Okun says: ‘Making anything feels like seizing control, like defiant reversal in the face of grief; this thing is yours, the way you would like it to be, and it exists where before there was nothing.’

The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater is largely based on knitting, my craft of choice, but Okun does dabble in other things throughout – crochet, embroidery, and dabbling in ‘most fibery pursuits’. In a lovely nod to the craft, the initial chapter is titled ‘Casting On’, and the final, ‘Casting Off’. The feelings which she captures in her opening chapter are so familiar to me: ‘You can’t really know what a project is going to be until it’s done,’ she says. ‘You could start it as a gift only to find you want to keep it for yourself, or the reverse. You could realize it looks nothing like what you intended and either despair or delight. Or, as so often happens, you could reach a place of peaceful ambivalence and decide to just keep pushing through, even though you’re not sure, even though you don’t know what it will be after you’ve invested all those hours and all that yarn. You can trust the project to reveal itself to you, outside of your control.’

I loved the way that Okun spoke about the skill needed to craft, something which I feel is still relatively underappreciated in the wider world. She writes: ‘The fact remains that knitting and its cousins aren’t innate skills. They’re taught and they’re learned and reinforced and passed down, in an interlocking series of leaps that builds and layers just like the crafts themselves.’ This legacy of crafting is so important to me; I was taught to knit by my grandmother and mother, and to sew by my mother. Yes, I have picked up skills in both crafts along the way, many of which have come from practice, or from watching many YouTube tutorials, but the foundations which I had sparked a lifelong interest. Both have been crafts which have ebbed and flowed in my life, but for the last three years, I have always had a knitting project on the go, however big – shawls, jumpers – or small – socks, reusable cotton washcloths. I identified so much with Okun when she described the period after her grandmother had taught her how to knit, and the way in which the craft has been a constant for her in adulthood: ‘I get better, I lose interest, I regain it, I improve. I get a boyfriend, I get into college, I get a job, I knit. I am anxious, I am joyful, I am lonely, I knit.’

Okun writes so honestly about crafting, and the fact that not every project embarked on is a success. Just like the author, I have done my fair share of frogging the initial wonky scarves, and projects where I had little knowledge, and selected a wildly inappropriate yarn for a pattern. As with everything though, confidence grows with skill; the more I have practiced left- and right-leaning increases, Icelandic bind-offs, and German short rows, the better I have become. Okun does not profess to be an expert in anything, which I found really refreshing. The author is the first to own up to mistakes which she has made, and points out things which she does differently to other crafters.

I was internally cheering when reading parts of The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater; for instance, when 
Okun writes: ‘I want people to ask me about my sweaters and tank tops; I want them to know that’s the sort of person I am, that I have this extremely minor superpower even if they think it’s weird or dorky. This is how I choose to spend my time and my brain space, and I want my physical being to reflect that, at least every once in a while.’

Throughout, I felt as though I was having a conversation with a very like-minded crafty friend. Okun is unfailingly bright, and I appreciated the informal tone which she used throughout. She writes at length about friendships and relationships, to the extent that I think those without crafting backgrounds could still very much enjoy her writing and perspectives.

I shall end this review with a lovely piece of wisdom which Okun imparts in one of her essays. She writes: ‘Projects, even the kind that are not so emotionally loaded, always feel smaller when they’re done, when you’re not obsessing over individual components anymore. The same is true for spans of time: happy periods, mourning periods – all of them flatten when you can look back on them from arm’s length, when you can hold them in your hands and stick them to the wall, when you can look at them in the context of your life.’

[Susie · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was everything I needed. It was a perfect companion for all the gift knitting I've been doing. So much of this book was #relatable.

[Greg Kelley]

I'm not going to read this book. But it looked like a fine addition to my new shelf of books that I will "admire from a distance" (and never touch). I like the premise, that building/creating things for your S.O. leads to unintended consequences. I have a feeling this works in mediums other than yarn.

[Rachel B · Rating 2 out of 5]

I thought this was going to be a light, humorous read about crafting. One of those books you like just because you can relate.

In reality, Okun wrote more of a reflective memoir (or tried to, anyway) than a collection of crafting essays, and her attempts at humor completely missed the mark for me. She went on and on about how she always has to be in a romantic relationship, and I just felt sad for her.

This book also felt very "written," for lack of a better word. It reminded me of essays I wrote in high school where I was required to use a certain number of "interesting" adjectives, verbs, and adverbs, and use very particular styles of sentence openers, and so on.

There is a lot of language in this. There are several references to sex, though no graphic details are revealed. There are references to teenage sex and teenage drug use.

One excerpt I did like:

"If I read one more article that begins with a line like 'Knitting: it's not just for grandmas anymore!' I'm ripping it up with a felting needle.... Crafters are told that we have to have permission to indulge in our pursuits, bestowed by the Whatever Tribune or blahdiblah.com, because otherwise all we should be is embarrassed by them. That's tacitly what these types of clunky, thoughtless trend pieces do: assume a beginning and an endpoint. They deny roots and they erase nuance, variance, and the lives of actual, real-life people who have spent their passion and energy learning how to create the world they want." (p 19-20)

I did also like the essays about her mom and her sister, but for the most part, this was just "meh." I would not recommend it.

(Side note: She has a lot of anxiety and deals with bouts of trichotillomania, which was a point of interest to me because those things run in my family.)

[Sahara · Rating 2 out of 5]

Boy, I say this with affection, but what a slog. This felt like a love letter to the author's friends and family, as well as her way of processing a breakup. Which is fine, and I'm glad she wrote it, and I hope that said friends and family read it, but really the audience did not need to extend beyond these chosen few. The ties between crafting and her relationships felt forced, and there just wasn't enough going on for me to care. I'll go back to my own knitting, rather than trying to hash out this person's relationships with all her ex boyfriends and yarn.

[Melody · Rating 2 out of 5]

This one was just painful for me to listen to, so I gave up around the halfway mark.

Unlike Stephanie Pearl McPhee’s books, which tend to actually be about crafting, The Curse of the Boyfriend Sweater seems to revolve around the author’s former boyfriends and unreasonably awesome friends.

Her life stories are not interesting enough, nor is her writing entertaining enough, to keep me interested.

[Kathy · Rating 1 out of 5]

I saw this recommended on twitter and I'm crafty too, so why not? It was fine. A typical sort of personal essay collection for the early twenties to early thirties female demographic. I think I've read too many so I've gotten cynical about the formula of it.

[Alissa Roy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Look at the cover of this book- doesn’t it make you want to read it? It’s so beautiful

[Gloria · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is not a light, fun look at knitting like I expected. It delves into knitting as therapy for anxiety and mental illness. It wasn't funny like I expected, but it definitely held my interest.

[Vishal Katariya · Rating 3 out of 5]

Fun fun book. Lots of vignettes into knitting. Many of these books I've read about particular activities become autobiographies through particular lenses (knitting and crocheting in this case), and while that seems to be natural to make the book readable and likable, it also makes the book an almost uncomfortable personal diary entry. I don't think I wanted to know all about Alanna Okun's boyfriends, not at all. At least she didn't make snarky comments about her ex boyfriends like many other do (why would you do that on a book that thousands of people will read!?).

However, still a fun book; lots of tributes to her grandmother, mother, family, friends etc. Lots of snippets I've saved because they caught my eye.

[Chelsea Craig · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 rounded down to a 3.
A very unique read - I’ve never read about someone passionate about crafts! I enjoyed the stories, how heartfelt the narration is, and the “not too nerdy” nerdy moments on knitting. Even though I enjoyed it, I don’t know if it will be memorable.

[Cait · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was truly delightful and I think I want to buy a copy so I can have it forever

[Kathleen · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very sweet collection of essays about crafting. I enjoyed how much of herself she shared. I have similar familial ties with the origins of my crafting and was also very close to my grandparents, so I felt a lot of those essays deeply. A lovely, quick read.

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

Supremely heartfelt, a case both for examining your life more closely and picking up the ol' knitting needles.

[Brent Woo · Rating 2 out of 5]

Man, I'm so disappointed. I want angsty craft memoir and reflections on our solitary/social arts, but there was way too much "boyfriend" and not enough "sweater". Not interested in a chapter long exegesis about how you met your best friend and how kooky and in sync you two are. Not interested in hearing every last sexual exploit of your serial monogamy. Memoir doesn't have to be celebrity. Memoir is fine if you give the reader a reason to care about your stories in the first place, but this never rose beyond that cloying "random girl but i'm interesting because I'm in NYC" mood (e.g. knitting on the subway is sooo quirky), which is borderline reprehensible. There are some good reflective bits, like "making things dims the roar" and how crafting is good at "bringing fears down to eye level". Although I'm not sure why crafting always has to be couched as some sort of complex therapeutic defensive exercise, rather than just a purely enjoyable pursuit. The latter is no less deep or important, and you shouldn't have to use anxiety or grief as a crutch to make crafting interesting.

[Carin · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am not a knitter. I might start next year. I did once knit a very plain scarf that was too short, but I was flummoxed by connecting a new skein of yarn.

Alanna is a knitter. In fact, she's a KNITTER, all caps. She knits forever and always and in every situation. She is in her twenties and moving to New York City and getting a new job and dating. And in these series of memoir-essays, she covers all of this, and knitting. And a few other crafts. Her mother is also crafty, which they put to good use when her mother helps decorate her new Brooklyn apartment.

The title refers to an incident I am familiar with, despite my not knitting. See, I do cross-stitch, which is another old-fashioned fabric craft. And not often, but every once in a blue moon, I would make a cross-stitch picture for the guy I was dating. And I mourn those long-gone works, and hope they still have good homes. In the world of knitting, this is known as a phenomenon where as soon as you knit your boyfriend a sweater, he will break up with you. Now, some of the sweaters in question were worth breaking up over (and frankly, I'm not sure I would have followed through with the gifting if they really turned out terribly sized, but whatever.) But it's a literal through-thread in Alanna's young adulthood--all the usual twenty-something angst, with yarn.

[Jacquellyn · Rating 3 out of 5]

There were parts of this that were 4-5 stars, then there were parts that were less stars. Overall, she seems too young to be writing about her own life. I just couldn’t stop myself from thinking that her and I are probably around the same age, and it’s a bit egocentric to think of writing my story at this age. Her problems seem so typical of the 20-something lifestyle now that they are almost cliche. Everyone is depressed, everyone is striving for better and more. These things are un-relatable to me, as I live my midwestern-married to my high school sweetheart-lifestyle. I enjoyed the talk about crafts. I even enjoyed the format of the book and how I felt like she was real and interesting. I guess what I’m saying is that I would recommend this book, I think it’s witty and funny and clever and interesting. I would just let my fellow readers/crafters know this is quintessential “millennial east coast.” That explains everything to me, maybe others as well. And I don’t want to minimize her depression and her sisters depression. That’s very serious. And although I cannot relate, I appreciate the author for being honest in the whole story.