Let me start by saying that I’m a fan of Rett MacPherson’s Torie O’Shea series. I’ve read almost all of the books because I am drawn to the genealogy angle even though in the early books Torie relied much too heavily on consulting family charts for her “research.” Basically, MacPherson’s tells a ripping good yarn, and Torie is quite likeable.
However, with the quilt errors in Died in the Wool I found it impossible to suspend my disbelief, especially in light of the fact that Torie, the museum curator, is also supposed to be a quilter. Torie lost me the minute she referred to the manner in which one of Glory Kendall’s quilt’s was “hemmed.” Hemmed? Seriously? Quilts are not hemmed, and every quilter knows that. Lots of non-quilters know it, too. Quilts are bound. Sometimes they are finished by lapping the back over the front, a variation on binding. Or they are birthed and finished with a knife edge. Or they are finished with prairie points. They are not hemmed. Ever. Every quilter knows that. Torie O’Shea should know that.
Then MacPherson’s stretches credulity to the limit when she attributes 50 quilts to 25 year old Glory Kendall, who also took a two year hiatus from quilting right before her death. Huh? Glory may have been a quilting wunderkind, but 50 quilts??? My mother-in-law, who was a master quilter, could hand quilt a full sized quilt in two months when she worked at it a minimum of eight to ten hours a day. Then, figure that it took about the same length of time to hand piece or appliqué the top, and you are looking at two more months for a total of four months per quilt. That is a yield of only three quilts a year. Maybe. In a good year. My great-grandmother who died at the age of 38 in 1918 produced a little more than two dozen quilts, which was considered a large yield for her short life. How’d she do it? In a hurry with huge toenail hooker stitches that would not put any of her quilts in a museum. Glory Kendall could have only produced 50 quilts if she had been born with a needle in one hand and started stitching while she was still in diapers.
What makes the novel totally implausible, however, are the poisoned basting pins lurking in Glory‘s unfinished quilt. The problem is not that the pins are poisoned, but that there are any “quilting pins” in it to begin with. Pin basting quilts in preparation for quilting is a recent development. The pins used are very strong, giant safety pins. Initially, they were used for quilts that were to be machine quilted. Now some quilters use them in hoop quilting, but many hoop quilters don’t use them because they are difficult to maneuver a hoop around. Quilts going into a frame are usually basted with huge stitches. Quilts in Glory’s time were not basted before going into a quilting frame. The lining was secured to the frame. The batting and the top were stretched over it and secured. I recall my grandmother, who was ten years younger than Glory Kendall’s character, being perplexed over the basting stitches in one of my quilts. It was not a concept she was familiar with. Regardless, no quilter would ever baste with straight pins, which is what Glory Kendall had evidently done. Why? Because getting jabbed by a straight pin hurts and gets blood on the quilt. Then there is the danger that a straight pin will get embedded in the quilt batting and will jab a loved one later. Glory Kendall would not have basted her quilt with straight pins for all these reasons…but mostly because she was not a moron.
It may seem like a small detail, but poisoning Glory’s quilting needles would have saved the story line.