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Fabric: The Hidden History of the Material World
Bestselling author Victoria Finlay spins us round the globe in a vibrant exploration of cloth through the ages. She beats the inner bark of trees into cloth in Papua New Guinea, fails to handspin cotton in Guatemala, visits tweed weavers at their homes in Harris, and has lessons in patchwork-making in Gee's Bend, Alabama. And through it all she uncovers the hidden histories of fabric: how and why people have made it, worn it, invented it and made symbols of it
Interlaced with Victoria's own story of grief and recovery, Fabric is a lush patchwork of travel, history, memoir and culture - an unforgettable look into how we have made fabric, and how it has made us.
Interlaced with Victoria's own story of grief and recovery, Fabric is a lush patchwork of travel, history, memoir and culture - an unforgettable look into how we have made fabric, and how it has made us.
528 pages, Paperback
First published November 11, 2021
299 people are currently reading
4868 people want to read
About the author
Victoria Finlay
11 books269 followersVictoria Finlay is a writer and journalist, known for her books on colour and jewels. Her most famous book is Colour: Travels Through The Paint Box.
(from Wikipedia)
I studied Social Anthropology at St Andrews University, Scotland and William & Mary College, Virginia, after spending time in Himalayan India, teaching in a Tibetan refugee camp and realising how amazing it was to learn about different cultures. My first job was as a management trainee with Reuters, in London and Scandinavia, but I had a dream to be a real news journalist, writing about people’s lives at times of drama and trauma. So I left to study journalism for a three month diploma at the London College of Printing.
When I was there, being told just how hard it would be to find a job, a fellow student asked me where, if I could choose any newspaper or magazine in the world, I would most like to work. I still remember the street we were walking along in south London, as my answer, quite unplanned, would change my life. I said: “Hong Kong, South China Morning Post, during the Handover”. At that time I had neither visited Hong Kong nor ever read The South China Morning Post. However, I had spoken my wish, so I applied as an intern, and spent the next 12 years in Hong Kong writing for The Hong Kong Standard, RTHK (briefly) and finally The South China Morning Post, as news reporter, then arts editor.
I left to fulfil another wish, which was to write a book about where colours came from – a subject that had interested me ever since I was eight years old and heard that we could no longer make the beautiful blue glass of Chartres Cathedral. Two years later, in 2002, that was published as Colour, Travels through the Paintbox, by Sceptre (and Color: the Natural History of the Palette, by Ballantine in the US). My second book, Jewels: A Secret History, followed in 2004. Since then I have returned to the UK, got married (the two were connected), and have spent the past few years working on development programmes (another wish) with my husband, through his charity, ARC. And now I am venturing – very, very slowly – into the world of fiction-writing. In April 2014 my first published short story was published in a book called The Stories of the Stranger: a reimagining of some of the stories that just about every religion and community has, about looking after people you don’t know. In 2014 my book The Brilliant History of Color in Art was published by Getty Publications in LA, and was named the Huffington Post’s top art book for that year.
One of the surprising things that writing the books led me to was being invited onto the BBC Radio 4 programme The Museum of Curiosities a couple of years ago. On the pilot I talked about purple, and then in the first series I was asked to propose Pliny the Elder (I have a thing about Pliny the Elder) to be one of the first entries into the Museum of Curiosity. I give lots of talks, and write for several publications including Orion, Apollo, The Independent, The Smithsonian Magazine and The South China Morning Post.
(from Wikipedia)
I studied Social Anthropology at St Andrews University, Scotland and William & Mary College, Virginia, after spending time in Himalayan India, teaching in a Tibetan refugee camp and realising how amazing it was to learn about different cultures. My first job was as a management trainee with Reuters, in London and Scandinavia, but I had a dream to be a real news journalist, writing about people’s lives at times of drama and trauma. So I left to study journalism for a three month diploma at the London College of Printing.
When I was there, being told just how hard it would be to find a job, a fellow student asked me where, if I could choose any newspaper or magazine in the world, I would most like to work. I still remember the street we were walking along in south London, as my answer, quite unplanned, would change my life. I said: “Hong Kong, South China Morning Post, during the Handover”. At that time I had neither visited Hong Kong nor ever read The South China Morning Post. However, I had spoken my wish, so I applied as an intern, and spent the next 12 years in Hong Kong writing for The Hong Kong Standard, RTHK (briefly) and finally The South China Morning Post, as news reporter, then arts editor.
I left to fulfil another wish, which was to write a book about where colours came from – a subject that had interested me ever since I was eight years old and heard that we could no longer make the beautiful blue glass of Chartres Cathedral. Two years later, in 2002, that was published as Colour, Travels through the Paintbox, by Sceptre (and Color: the Natural History of the Palette, by Ballantine in the US). My second book, Jewels: A Secret History, followed in 2004. Since then I have returned to the UK, got married (the two were connected), and have spent the past few years working on development programmes (another wish) with my husband, through his charity, ARC. And now I am venturing – very, very slowly – into the world of fiction-writing. In April 2014 my first published short story was published in a book called The Stories of the Stranger: a reimagining of some of the stories that just about every religion and community has, about looking after people you don’t know. In 2014 my book The Brilliant History of Color in Art was published by Getty Publications in LA, and was named the Huffington Post’s top art book for that year.
One of the surprising things that writing the books led me to was being invited onto the BBC Radio 4 programme The Museum of Curiosities a couple of years ago. On the pilot I talked about purple, and then in the first series I was asked to propose Pliny the Elder (I have a thing about Pliny the Elder) to be one of the first entries into the Museum of Curiosity. I give lots of talks, and write for several publications including Orion, Apollo, The Independent, The Smithsonian Magazine and The South China Morning Post.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 172 reviews
May 11, 2023
10 star book! Genetics before Mendel: A Bible story
I was especially interested in the tapa story in the South Sea islands, as I once owned a huge piece of framed tapa bark cloth. I bought it in a sale on the island for $25. It was worth close to a $1,000 but I didn't want to sell it, and eventually it got black mould and green fungus on the back and it was worth nothing. Living in a rain forest climate, fungus and mould are endemic.
There was another story interwoven into the book that reached its apex in the epilogue. This was the story of the author's relationship with her parents in their last years, and afterwards. Generally, I don't like this sort of story, I'm interested in the subject of the book, not the author's family life, but in this case it worked. Probably because the author is a really good writer and not given to long lyrical passages and knew when to keep to the subject and when it was ok to add a bit of family in. I did like the author.
The most beautiful fabric I have ever seen was in a museum in NY, it was an Inuit fish skin dress, it might have been salmon or whale guts patched together, and it was iridescent, like mother-of-pearl, thin as silk. Usually fish guts strips were sewn into raincoats as being fish, they were waterproof, but this was a dress of exquisite beauty. I wish I could remember which museum it was in so I could find it on the internet (I've tried, but no success).
_________
Reading notes During the age of sail, ships sailing to India left Europe in the summer to take advantage of the seasonal monsoon winds in the Indian Ocean. Southwest winds blew during summer, allowing ships to sail to western India. Then they would spend months there waiting for the northeast winds which blew during winter, allowing them to sail back. So trade, people and even letters happened only once a year in each direction. Imagine saying, 'the cheque was lost in the post..." that would buy you another year's grace!
This is a retelling of the earliest ‘How To’ guide to selective sheep breeding. The account is found in the Book of Genesis, inside the story of Jacob, the father of the twelve tribes of Israel. The names are important, as they are not names so much as ciphers for each character’s role. Jacob means the one who grasped his brother’s heel at birth; Esau is Hairy; Laban means White; Leah means Weary; while Rachel is the Hebrew word for Ewe. And the story also holds, concealed within it, a narrative of what happens when a Ewe born of a White sire is matched with a vigorous male whose twin has red hair.I loved this book. The way it was written was a personal one - the author travelled all over the world to see how different fabrics were made and what their significance was. It is not a book about fabric in the same way there are books about salt, or cod, or whisky, it is an anthropological study of fabric and the communities that produce them not in a dry way, but with the individuals carrying on the traditions, and including the history behind it and associated wisdom or folklore.
After his second seven-year term, Jacob asked to continue tending his father-in-law’s flock. He said that instead of wages he would have something that appeared easy for Laban to give. White sheep and goats were the most valuable because white wool can be dyed more easily than dark. So Jacob’s proposal was that after seven more years they would divide the flock: his uncle would have all the white animals, while he would keep any black, brown or speckled ones.
Laban agreed – and then promptly removed all the dark and speckled animals from his herd, leaving Jacob with only the white ones to breed from. He would have known that offspring usually carried the characteristics of their parents, and imagined that with no speckled or dark sheep in the flock, his son-in-law’s chances of taking a substantial wage were slim.
But Jacob knew something that Laban did not. In his years as a shepherd, he would have seen how white rams and white ewes can still sometimes produce lambs with coloured wool. Perhaps he was particularly interested in the subject because he was the twin to such a different kind of man. Or more likely this whole part of the story is all just code for more ancient wisdom and mythology.
At breeding time, Jacob peeled bark strips off tree branches and put them in the watering troughs so the ewes would see stripes at the moment of conception. In the first year, a few dark and striped lambs were born. Jacob separated those into pens and bred from them. The second year he did the same, and there were more dark and striped lambs. By the seventh year, almost the whole flock was dark and striped. And Jacob’s.
The trick with the bark strips was likely a conjuror’s distraction. Because Jacob didn’t need witchcraft, or an act of God. What he needed was an understanding of how genetic traits pass through the generations. It wouldn’t be explained scientifically until 1866 when the Austrian priest, Gregor Mendel, described his observations of pea plants, but as the Jacob story shows it has been understood by shepherds since at least the Bronze Age.
I was especially interested in the tapa story in the South Sea islands, as I once owned a huge piece of framed tapa bark cloth. I bought it in a sale on the island for $25. It was worth close to a $1,000 but I didn't want to sell it, and eventually it got black mould and green fungus on the back and it was worth nothing. Living in a rain forest climate, fungus and mould are endemic.
There was another story interwoven into the book that reached its apex in the epilogue. This was the story of the author's relationship with her parents in their last years, and afterwards. Generally, I don't like this sort of story, I'm interested in the subject of the book, not the author's family life, but in this case it worked. Probably because the author is a really good writer and not given to long lyrical passages and knew when to keep to the subject and when it was ok to add a bit of family in. I did like the author.
The most beautiful fabric I have ever seen was in a museum in NY, it was an Inuit fish skin dress, it might have been salmon or whale guts patched together, and it was iridescent, like mother-of-pearl, thin as silk. Usually fish guts strips were sewn into raincoats as being fish, they were waterproof, but this was a dress of exquisite beauty. I wish I could remember which museum it was in so I could find it on the internet (I've tried, but no success).
_________
Reading notes During the age of sail, ships sailing to India left Europe in the summer to take advantage of the seasonal monsoon winds in the Indian Ocean. Southwest winds blew during summer, allowing ships to sail to western India. Then they would spend months there waiting for the northeast winds which blew during winter, allowing them to sail back. So trade, people and even letters happened only once a year in each direction. Imagine saying, 'the cheque was lost in the post..." that would buy you another year's grace!
January 2, 2024
Excellent. It’s one of my top books for the year.
My review to come as I want to be able to have the book open and quote from it as I write and I can’t do that while I’m on holiday.
In the meantime, here’s what Google books has to say:
A magnificent work of original research that unravels history through textiles and cloth—how we make it, use it, and what it means to us.
How is a handmade fabric helping save an ancient forest?
Why is a famous fabric pattern from India best known by the name of a Scottish town?
How is a Chinese dragon robe a diagram of the whole universe?
What is the difference between how the Greek Fates and the Viking Norns used threads to tell our destiny?
In Fabric, bestselling author Victoria Finlay spins us round the globe, weaving stories of our relationship with cloth and asking how and why people through the ages have made it, worn it, invented it, and made symbols out of it. And sometimes why they have fought for it.
She beats the inner bark of trees into cloth in Papua New Guinea, fails to handspin cotton in Guatemala, visits tweed weavers at their homes in Harris, and has lessons in patchwork-making in Gee's Bend, Alabama - where in the 1930s, deprived of almost everything they owned, a community of women turned quilting into an art form.
She began her research just after the deaths of both her parents —and entwined in the threads she found her personal story too. Fabric is not just a material history of our world, but Finlay's own journey through grief and recovery.
Update December 2023
My son gave me this for Christmas. An inspired gift. Now I can dip into it easily whenever I like. Always much easier with a real book, not an electronic one!
My review to come as I want to be able to have the book open and quote from it as I write and I can’t do that while I’m on holiday.
In the meantime, here’s what Google books has to say:
A magnificent work of original research that unravels history through textiles and cloth—how we make it, use it, and what it means to us.
How is a handmade fabric helping save an ancient forest?
Why is a famous fabric pattern from India best known by the name of a Scottish town?
How is a Chinese dragon robe a diagram of the whole universe?
What is the difference between how the Greek Fates and the Viking Norns used threads to tell our destiny?
In Fabric, bestselling author Victoria Finlay spins us round the globe, weaving stories of our relationship with cloth and asking how and why people through the ages have made it, worn it, invented it, and made symbols out of it. And sometimes why they have fought for it.
She beats the inner bark of trees into cloth in Papua New Guinea, fails to handspin cotton in Guatemala, visits tweed weavers at their homes in Harris, and has lessons in patchwork-making in Gee's Bend, Alabama - where in the 1930s, deprived of almost everything they owned, a community of women turned quilting into an art form.
She began her research just after the deaths of both her parents —and entwined in the threads she found her personal story too. Fabric is not just a material history of our world, but Finlay's own journey through grief and recovery.
Update December 2023
My son gave me this for Christmas. An inspired gift. Now I can dip into it easily whenever I like. Always much easier with a real book, not an electronic one!
November 30, 2021
Really, really good. This is at once a nonfiction piece about fabric throughout history and a bit of memoir regarding the author's grief after losing her parents. It's all interwoven together, and as someone who is still in the midst of grieving, this hit the spot when I worried it would make it worse.
As always, Finlay's books are incredibly interesting, entertaining, and leave me wanting to learn more about whatever topic she chooses. I hope she continues to write for many years as her books are a highlight in nonfiction for me.
As always, Finlay's books are incredibly interesting, entertaining, and leave me wanting to learn more about whatever topic she chooses. I hope she continues to write for many years as her books are a highlight in nonfiction for me.
February 1, 2024
Victoria Finlay makes an exceedingly congenial companion. She approaches her subject with respect, warmth and curiosity, and has a very felicitous way with words. Words are her business indeed, and I particularly loved her fascination with the connections that etymology can draw, one that I share, of course. For example: I am sure that it is fairly well known that those skills of story telling and weaving have long been associated, that the words text and textile (and tissue too) have the same origin, in the Latin texere, to weave. But then there is also the Greek word for 'to sew': rhaptein. We get the word rhapsody from it. It means something that is sung and something that is patched; both of those things.
Finlay draws too on ancient stories that bring resonance and depth to the ancient skill of cloth making: for example a story re-told in Ovid's Metamorphoses.
The king of Thrace has rescued Athens from its enemies and in return is given the young princess Procne in marriage. Thrace is a long way away, in the far north of Greece, and Procne misses home. Most of all she misses her younger sister, Philomela. Five autumns on, and recently a mother, she asks her husband if her sister can visit. Not only can she visit, he says, I'll collect her myself. When he sees young Philomela - modest, virginal, all of that - he grows mad with desire. At the moment when Philomela is begging her father to let her accompany the king to Thrace, the king is imagining what he will do to her. When they arrive, instead of going to the palace, he takes her to a terrible house in the forest, and he rapes her. when she regains consciousness, she speaks to him in an awful voice. Kill me, she says, or I will tell everyone what you have done and my words will wake the echoes of the woods and move the compassion of the rocks. He doesn't kill her but he ties her up and cuts out her tongue. Then, having raped her again, he leaves her there, with a maidservant. Twelve months pass.
'But even in despair and utmost grief, there is an ingenuity which gives inventive genius to protect from harm,' writes Ovid. And although Philomela cannot speak, there is a loom in the cottage. She weaves what has happened to her into a tapestry, with purple and white threads. And when it is done, she begs the maid to take it in secret to her sister. Procne understands the message and takes revenge on her husband by killing their son, and serving the child's flesh to him to eat, 'and her tongue can find no words for her despair'.
This is a story full of the inability to speak. But the one thing that does speak is the fabric. Philomela's is a story of rape and later one of terrible revenge, but it's also the story of how women through history have had a language, a way of communicating, through their fingers, through their work, through their shuttles and through their cloth.
A wonderfully engaging work.
Finlay draws too on ancient stories that bring resonance and depth to the ancient skill of cloth making: for example a story re-told in Ovid's Metamorphoses.
The king of Thrace has rescued Athens from its enemies and in return is given the young princess Procne in marriage. Thrace is a long way away, in the far north of Greece, and Procne misses home. Most of all she misses her younger sister, Philomela. Five autumns on, and recently a mother, she asks her husband if her sister can visit. Not only can she visit, he says, I'll collect her myself. When he sees young Philomela - modest, virginal, all of that - he grows mad with desire. At the moment when Philomela is begging her father to let her accompany the king to Thrace, the king is imagining what he will do to her. When they arrive, instead of going to the palace, he takes her to a terrible house in the forest, and he rapes her. when she regains consciousness, she speaks to him in an awful voice. Kill me, she says, or I will tell everyone what you have done and my words will wake the echoes of the woods and move the compassion of the rocks. He doesn't kill her but he ties her up and cuts out her tongue. Then, having raped her again, he leaves her there, with a maidservant. Twelve months pass.
'But even in despair and utmost grief, there is an ingenuity which gives inventive genius to protect from harm,' writes Ovid. And although Philomela cannot speak, there is a loom in the cottage. She weaves what has happened to her into a tapestry, with purple and white threads. And when it is done, she begs the maid to take it in secret to her sister. Procne understands the message and takes revenge on her husband by killing their son, and serving the child's flesh to him to eat, 'and her tongue can find no words for her despair'.
This is a story full of the inability to speak. But the one thing that does speak is the fabric. Philomela's is a story of rape and later one of terrible revenge, but it's also the story of how women through history have had a language, a way of communicating, through their fingers, through their work, through their shuttles and through their cloth.
A wonderfully engaging work.
November 20, 2025
I hoped this would be a history like The Hungry Empire, doing for fabric what that book did for food. By the end I concluded this was another personal history like Danubia. Both of these other books worked for me, but ultimately Fabric didn't. I did, however, learn where the phrase 'gunny sack' in Johnny B. Goode came from: 'Gunny' comes from Sanskrit via Marathi, it means 'sack'. The etymology was a definite plus.
I think the fundamental problem with Fabric is that it is too anecdotal. It's an account of the writer's travels and experiences in the world of fabric, and History only really dominates in the chapters on cotton and silk, but they are written a little like wikipedia articles on those topics. The Hungary Empire was a straight forward narrative history, and although its chapters are also focused on specific foods, such as salt-cod and sugar, these topics are subordinated to a time line based on the historical significance of those foods to the British Empire.
In the end it was the presence of a timeline narrative in Danubia that also won me over. A series of apparently personal travel anecdotes: it eventually becomes apparent that the writer is travelling from west to east, following the course of the Danube, while accounting for the rise and fall for the Habsburg Empire that straddled its northern shore.
History is as much a narrative art as an accurate representation of past facts. The representation maybe more or less persuasive depending on how compelling that narrative is. Truth as history is a not just a matter of revealing fact, it's a matter of plausibly connecting these facts. I don't think that is acheived in Fabric. No connection is offered between cotton and silk, like the one the Hungry Empire offered between salt cod and sugar.
If I had to suggest a warp to this weft, it would be to retitle the book 'When Eve Span: a Feminist Account of the Development of Fabric. There are brilliant accounts of the author's time spent with women around the world engaged in making cloth. The problem then becomes what to do with the contributions made by men - most of the enginneering for a start. Seeing as there is an ecological thread also running through text, and the book ends with a note on the ecological damage the textile industry is doing to the world, there's an obvious line to take. Would I have enjoyed that book more or less?
I think the fundamental problem with Fabric is that it is too anecdotal. It's an account of the writer's travels and experiences in the world of fabric, and History only really dominates in the chapters on cotton and silk, but they are written a little like wikipedia articles on those topics. The Hungary Empire was a straight forward narrative history, and although its chapters are also focused on specific foods, such as salt-cod and sugar, these topics are subordinated to a time line based on the historical significance of those foods to the British Empire.
In the end it was the presence of a timeline narrative in Danubia that also won me over. A series of apparently personal travel anecdotes: it eventually becomes apparent that the writer is travelling from west to east, following the course of the Danube, while accounting for the rise and fall for the Habsburg Empire that straddled its northern shore.
History is as much a narrative art as an accurate representation of past facts. The representation maybe more or less persuasive depending on how compelling that narrative is. Truth as history is a not just a matter of revealing fact, it's a matter of plausibly connecting these facts. I don't think that is acheived in Fabric. No connection is offered between cotton and silk, like the one the Hungry Empire offered between salt cod and sugar.
If I had to suggest a warp to this weft, it would be to retitle the book 'When Eve Span: a Feminist Account of the Development of Fabric. There are brilliant accounts of the author's time spent with women around the world engaged in making cloth. The problem then becomes what to do with the contributions made by men - most of the enginneering for a start. Seeing as there is an ecological thread also running through text, and the book ends with a note on the ecological damage the textile industry is doing to the world, there's an obvious line to take. Would I have enjoyed that book more or less?
January 9, 2022
A truly beautiful book in so many ways, looking at the role fabric plays in our lives, how it is made, how it has developed over the years in different parts of the world, the myths and stories surrounding its significance. At the same time, Victoria Finlay is exploring her own grief at the loss of her parents and weaves (excuse the pun, but the book is full of how we use textile related words in our everyday speech) their stories and her emotions into the narrative. At first, I felt that these stories were an unnecessary addition, but by the end, I appreciated her message. Fabrics and textiles play a part in all out lives from the moment we are born and are wrapped in cloths or baby clothes to the moment we die and are laid to rest. Fabrics are not merely utilitarian garments to keep us warm, but have a beauty and meaning beyond. This exploration of multiple cultures from China to India, to Papua New Guinea to Wales and Scotland through the medium of fabrics is well worth a read.
June 23, 2023
Admittedly I didn't finish this.
Although Victoria Finlay shows tremendous enthusiasm for the subject matter she explores here, I think she just tries to cover too much ground, and it's easy to get bogged down in detail and some repetition.
There were some interesting points here and there but overall I think I became a little bored as the pages ticked on by. I speed read and skim read some sections but ultimately had to give up.
I'm going to donate this one to my local library and see if someone else can get a little more enjoyment out of it than me.
Although Victoria Finlay shows tremendous enthusiasm for the subject matter she explores here, I think she just tries to cover too much ground, and it's easy to get bogged down in detail and some repetition.
There were some interesting points here and there but overall I think I became a little bored as the pages ticked on by. I speed read and skim read some sections but ultimately had to give up.
I'm going to donate this one to my local library and see if someone else can get a little more enjoyment out of it than me.
April 17, 2022
A personal and quirky telling of the history of fabric, it is excellent and memorable. Includes one or two fabrics omitted from more traditional books. Thank you to the person who gave this to me.
March 7, 2023
Interesting history but the author talks about herself too much.
May 18, 2023
4.5 stars
October 18, 2025
This suberbly researched topic was interesting and very informative. The context in which the various dicussed fabrics was depicted added much to the history and discussion of the fabrics. Unfortunately, the author used this book as a way to mitigate her grief with her mother's death. This marred the discussion and information about the fabrics.
October 26, 2024
It took me longer than expected to get into Fabric: The Hidden History of the Material World as it was a more personal narrative than I expected. Unlike books such as The Golden Thread: How Fabric Changed History, Fabric: The Hidden History of the Material World is less of a systematic history and more of a travelogue/memoir revolving around types of fabric. The subtitle is a bit misleading, really. At first I wasn't keen on this unstructured approach, but came round to it as Finlay is an engaging writer and selected the destinations on her world fabric tour well. Once I got over my structure pedantry, I enjoyed learning about types of fabric that were new to me (barkcloth, tapa) and collecting fun facts about the more familiar types. If you approach the book expecting a themed memoir rather than a work of history, you won't need to undergo this adjustment and can enjoy it straight off.
Here are a few my favourite fabric facts learned from Finlay. Egyptian cotton is a different plant to most commercially grown cotton: gossypium barbadense, rather than the easier to cultivate gossypium hirsutum that provides most of our cotton. Samuel Butler's 1872 proto-dystopian novel Erewhon was inspired by the Upper Rangitata sheep district of Canterbury Province, New Zealand, where he made a fortune in wool. Silk moths are extremely cute (I definitely appreciated Finlay's inclusion of illustrations). And the measurement of tights thickness, denier, comes from silk: 10 denier tights are about the thickness of ten strands of silk. The name refers to a French coin, the history of which can be found on French wikipedia.
Finlay's travels and research into fabrics across history and the world are woven together with her grief after losing both her parents in 2015. The book concludes with an account of her mother's death that made me cry. She describes the book as a patchwork, which is both accurate and appropriate given a short chapter is devoted to the craft. Although I wasn't expecting this structure, it works well. Fabric: The Hidden History of the Material World is an engaging, interesting, and moving read that compliments rather than duplicating The Golden Thread: How Fabric Changed History (material history), Worn: A People's History of Clothing (social history), and Fashionopolis: The Price of Fast Fashion and the Future of Clothes (economic history and recent fabric innovations).
Here are a few my favourite fabric facts learned from Finlay. Egyptian cotton is a different plant to most commercially grown cotton: gossypium barbadense, rather than the easier to cultivate gossypium hirsutum that provides most of our cotton. Samuel Butler's 1872 proto-dystopian novel Erewhon was inspired by the Upper Rangitata sheep district of Canterbury Province, New Zealand, where he made a fortune in wool. Silk moths are extremely cute (I definitely appreciated Finlay's inclusion of illustrations). And the measurement of tights thickness, denier, comes from silk: 10 denier tights are about the thickness of ten strands of silk. The name refers to a French coin, the history of which can be found on French wikipedia.
Finlay's travels and research into fabrics across history and the world are woven together with her grief after losing both her parents in 2015. The book concludes with an account of her mother's death that made me cry. She describes the book as a patchwork, which is both accurate and appropriate given a short chapter is devoted to the craft. Although I wasn't expecting this structure, it works well. Fabric: The Hidden History of the Material World is an engaging, interesting, and moving read that compliments rather than duplicating The Golden Thread: How Fabric Changed History (material history), Worn: A People's History of Clothing (social history), and Fashionopolis: The Price of Fast Fashion and the Future of Clothes (economic history and recent fabric innovations).
June 24, 2022
For my marbles, the most ambitious books are those that attempt to tell the story of something impossibly large. I love the chutzpah of an author who looks at a Godzilla topic and says “yeah let me toss a lasso ‘round that.” Good luck!
But why shouldn’t Victoria Finlay craft the history of fabric into an enlightening book for a mainstream audience? We already know she’s good with a lasso.
In her book “Color: A Natural History of the Palette” Finlay tackled a subject so familiar that one may never have considered it to have a life of its own. The genius is in first recognizing the historical significance of color — and now fabric — and then delighting readers with vivid details from a dramatic historical canon.
‘Fabric’ takes you around the world to see how & why different cultures developed unique textiles, and what consequences were spawned from these preferences. From antiquity to the industrial revolution; from Alabama to Guatemala, you might feel like Phileas Fogg (or Bill & Ted!) turning pages through time and space.
The deeply researched travelogue aspect of ‘Fabric’ was great, but anticipated. The author’s openness in writing about the loss of her parents was unexpected and added a sadly relatable layer to her story.
Suffering this bereavement shortly before work on the book began in earnest, Finlay’s personal journey through grief gave ‘Fabric’ a rich human texture. Not only did she lasso another Godzilla of a topic: she did it with a broken heart.
Review copy gifted by publisher.
But why shouldn’t Victoria Finlay craft the history of fabric into an enlightening book for a mainstream audience? We already know she’s good with a lasso.
In her book “Color: A Natural History of the Palette” Finlay tackled a subject so familiar that one may never have considered it to have a life of its own. The genius is in first recognizing the historical significance of color — and now fabric — and then delighting readers with vivid details from a dramatic historical canon.
‘Fabric’ takes you around the world to see how & why different cultures developed unique textiles, and what consequences were spawned from these preferences. From antiquity to the industrial revolution; from Alabama to Guatemala, you might feel like Phileas Fogg (or Bill & Ted!) turning pages through time and space.
The deeply researched travelogue aspect of ‘Fabric’ was great, but anticipated. The author’s openness in writing about the loss of her parents was unexpected and added a sadly relatable layer to her story.
Suffering this bereavement shortly before work on the book began in earnest, Finlay’s personal journey through grief gave ‘Fabric’ a rich human texture. Not only did she lasso another Godzilla of a topic: she did it with a broken heart.
Review copy gifted by publisher.
February 29, 2024
5 stars.
Excellent history, interesting, well-researched. But the best part of this book was the way the author wove herself into the story. Talking about the loss of her parents. Travelling to locales relevant to the fabric at hand. Participating in tutorials and other hands-on experiences.
I’ve read several books about the history of fabrics/clothing, and this one is definitely toward the top of the pile.
Excellent history, interesting, well-researched. But the best part of this book was the way the author wove herself into the story. Talking about the loss of her parents. Travelling to locales relevant to the fabric at hand. Participating in tutorials and other hands-on experiences.
I’ve read several books about the history of fabrics/clothing, and this one is definitely toward the top of the pile.
June 15, 2024
mooi en interessant, en af en toe ontroerend persoonlijk
January 6, 2024
Informative, heartfelt, and personal. The memoir elements balanced perfectly with as in-depth a world history of anything can go. Took me a long time to listen to, but I really enjoyed it.
February 13, 2024
It's was a nice book to read if you want the base information. The storyline about Victoria Finlat was a bit of a weird mix sometimes.
November 16, 2023
After having been immersed in fiction for the last few months it felt good to read something real, like pulling on a warm sweater on a chilly day. I never held any thought about how my sweaters were made until this book. Now I see and wonder about the weave, texture, and origins of the fabrics. The history of fabric was very interesting. The author’s personal story “woven” throughout was not. 4.5 stars
March 8, 2023
An excellent piece of non-fiction. Well-researched, well-organised, thorough and engaging. I could hardly put it down, and while it contained a lot of information, it never felt dense or inaccessible. I don't read a lot of non-fiction or historical accounts, but the 400 pages flew by.
I can't really fault it, and I find myself hovering between 4 and 5 stars, but I've landed on 4 (or maybe 4.5) simply because there was no mention of knitting; odd for a book with a whole chapter on wool. I understand the focus on woven fabrics and enjoyed learning about Harris tweed, but I don't know how you can write about wool (with plenty of information about sheep breeding and trading, characteristics of the fibre, uses and fashion) without mentioning knitting once. Scoring it down a whole star for that might be a bit harsh, but it's testament to how well-written it was that I would gladly read another 50 or even 100 pages, and it felt like a strange omission to me. Admittedly, I'm an avid knitter, so others may not have noticed. If you want to know about the history of knit fabrics, this isn't the one for you, but if you're interested in woven fabrics and the industrialisation of woven fabric production, this is excellent.
I can't really fault it, and I find myself hovering between 4 and 5 stars, but I've landed on 4 (or maybe 4.5) simply because there was no mention of knitting; odd for a book with a whole chapter on wool. I understand the focus on woven fabrics and enjoyed learning about Harris tweed, but I don't know how you can write about wool (with plenty of information about sheep breeding and trading, characteristics of the fibre, uses and fashion) without mentioning knitting once. Scoring it down a whole star for that might be a bit harsh, but it's testament to how well-written it was that I would gladly read another 50 or even 100 pages, and it felt like a strange omission to me. Admittedly, I'm an avid knitter, so others may not have noticed. If you want to know about the history of knit fabrics, this isn't the one for you, but if you're interested in woven fabrics and the industrialisation of woven fabric production, this is excellent.
December 28, 2023
I loved every single moment of reading this book. It is a treasure trove of interesting stories spun from ancient to modern history interwoven with a deeply personal experience of loss and grief. It is my favourite book that I've read this year and possibly in the last decade. Well, done, Victoria Finlay! Thank you for your perseverance even through your grief and loss. Fabric: The Hidden History of the Material World is a gift to the world.
August 3, 2022
This was so so boring. So disappointing.
August 15, 2024
i should start by saying this took me over 6 months to finish. it was a slow read with much information. if youre interested in a side book, this would be a great pick.
this novel is a combination of the exploration of the history of fabrics and a travel narrative. i really wasnt expecting this, though i now see it is clearly on the back of the book and in the marketing campaign.
while the book is segregated into sections based on fabric, which makes perfect sense and is easy to follow, the chapters themselves are more of story. the current day and historical bits are mixed together with the author's journey in a way that makes this feel a bit memoir adjacent, which is not my style. even so, it was a great book, albeit maybe not a repeat read for me.
this novel is a combination of the exploration of the history of fabrics and a travel narrative. i really wasnt expecting this, though i now see it is clearly on the back of the book and in the marketing campaign.
while the book is segregated into sections based on fabric, which makes perfect sense and is easy to follow, the chapters themselves are more of story. the current day and historical bits are mixed together with the author's journey in a way that makes this feel a bit memoir adjacent, which is not my style. even so, it was a great book, albeit maybe not a repeat read for me.
January 22, 2024
Really great at connecting trends in fabric to broader socio-political happenings. Sometimes a trend in fashion is caused by shifting trade and politics, sometimes a trend in fashion causes shifting trade and political consequences.
But fabric is important for more reasons than just economical, and this book is full of the heart of fabric and clothing, respectful of histories and identities.
But fabric is important for more reasons than just economical, and this book is full of the heart of fabric and clothing, respectful of histories and identities.
September 8, 2024
Nothing if not thorough - Finlay takes you through time and travel to meetings with textiles - from sackcloth to silk, patchwork to pashmina - and the people who create them, blow by blow. However, each chapter is absorbing and the discoveries and connections she makes are joyful and enriching.
January 15, 2024
A book about fabric and a book about loss and grief - loved it.
February 1, 2025
Insightful, personal, textured.
September 8, 2025
engaging book for anyone who loves textiles
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February 11, 2025After spending two months working through this, I can say that I enjoyed it. I expected a bit drier of a text and was a little unsure of the more personal aspects of the narrative constructed. However, that aside, it was very informative and a great starting point to get a broader look into fabric history.
January 16, 2024
I loved the idea of this book, and I recently attend a lecture on fabrics, clothing, and clothing pieces that were found from the Steamboat Arabia that sunk in the Missouri River in 1856 and was raised in 1988. It was fascinating to me that wool survived but cotton didn't and silk was deuterating, but not gone. I was hoping to learn more about how fabrics had been made throughout time and the dying processes. This book does cover this, but takes so many detours that you tend to forget what you are reading about. I realize this is a dry topic to most individuals, but fascinating to those that are interested. I really felt this book needed to be more focused for those that are interested, because those that aren't interested in fabric probably will not read it.
How did this book find me? It was the September 2022 selection from Atlas Obscura for their book club Finding Wonder hosted by Literati Book Store in Austin, TX. Literati discontinued all adult book clubs in January 2023.
How did this book find me? It was the September 2022 selection from Atlas Obscura for their book club Finding Wonder hosted by Literati Book Store in Austin, TX. Literati discontinued all adult book clubs in January 2023.
January 14, 2025
Even small critiques I could make would not take away from the scope and magnitude of this work. I had no idea the history of fabric would be the history of the human world. Now it seems obvious.
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