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Sweater
Alexander loves his grandma and all of the wonderful things she makes for him. But when Nanny surprises Alexander with a present that's not so wonderful, he has to figure out how to make it to the end of picture day wearing his itchy, sweaty, scratchy, woolly sweater.
Written and illustrated by Emily Hepditch, the award-winning and #1 bestselling author of The Woman in the Attic and Alone on the Trail.
Written and illustrated by Emily Hepditch, the award-winning and #1 bestselling author of The Woman in the Attic and Alone on the Trail.
- GenresChildrens
32 pages, Paperback
Published March 4, 2022
325 people want to read
About the author
Emily Hepditch
4 books248 followersEmily Hepditch is an award-winning emerging author from Mount Pearl, Newfoundland. A prolific writer since childhood, Emily’s first publication came in 2015 when her short story Lifelike was published by Nelson Education. Emily received her Bachelor of Arts (Honours) from Memorial University in 2020, where she studied linguistics, psychology, and criminology. Primarily she writes psychological thrillers that draw on principles of criminology to comment on contemporary issues in society. When she’s not writing novels, Emily is either working on an illustration, running through the park, or hiking the East Coast Trail.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
March 29, 2022
Now you’ve done it, Emily my duck.
You’ve beamed me back to that October in a previous century when the Russians of the time fired Sputnik I into space, an event that caused doomsaying old folks to wail, “Them Russians are going to blow up the moon.”
But I forgive you.
It was not your intent, I’m sure, to slingshot my noggin and me into the Time-Space Continuum.
With Sweater [Pennywell Books] I imagine your intent is to spin a yarn (!), to knit an entertaining tale for children, while at the same time reminding them not ever to be disheartened because of Granny’s gifts.
Am I right?
(You can only imagine how sick and tired — even as a bay-boy with an urge to chipple — I became of those Granny-gifted, all occasions, pocketknives with the mounted Mountie on the handle.)
Also, as a fabulist I s’pose, your intent is to teach youngsters to appreciate the innate value of gifts that at first fail to satisfy childish desires.
Alexander is dissatisfied with his brand new Granny-gifted sweater because it “is big and itchy and sweaty and scratchy, and it makes him look like a marshmallow.”
Alexander has nary a thought about the sweater’s colour — one I call grandmother-green, the colour of grandmotherly love.
My Granny was so fond of this shade that she painted every single clapboard on her two-story saltbox grandmother-green.
Truly.
The picture of Alexander all puffed up in his cable-knit sweater with a scowl on his chops made me smile with a smidgen of nostalgia.
When I turned the page, however, a frightening feeling of portentous synchronicity filled my erstwhile bay-boy heart.
Alexander’s mother, like mothers everywhere, ignores her son’s disgruntled mood, and cheerily says, “You can wear it tomorrow for picture day!”
“Oh no,” thinks Alexander.
Oh no, indeed.
About the aforementioned heave-ho through time and space…
There exists a snapshot of bay-boy me, one of those ubiquitous school photos that have appeared anually pretty much since Confederation pupped.
Unseen in a faraway foreign land the Russians are fiddling with the launch codes for Sputnik I. I’m posed in a school desk — a reluctant scholar, no doubt — wearing my Granny-knit worsted sweater.
Yes, that’s right — Alexander and me rigged out in our Granny sweaters for Picture Day, eh b’ys?
Standing alone — a whole page to itself, for frig sake — Alexander’s sweater is “big, warm” and “woolly”.
I wondered about the wool. Store-bought, I imagine. Smelling sterile except for Granny scents — p’raps the aroma of Pillsbury cookie dough wafting from an electric oven.
My sweater — in the picture and in my time-tossed noggin — is grey, not grandmother-green as I may have suggested. Grey homespun worsted wool with the sheepy reek of lanolin still trapped in its purled stitches.
Its cuffs are frayed, and it’s probably peppered with woolly knobs, like the clinker-balls on a baa-baa’s derriere.
I have no memory regarding the fate of my sweater. Maybe it was raveled out and re-knitted as socks.
Alexander’s sweater, however, proves it worth. During a fire drill on a “blustery, snowy, wintry day” Alexander’s sweater keeps him snug and warm while his classmates shake with the bivvers.
After the fire drill, back inside the school, Alexander is “toasty warm and ready to take his picture.”
Understand what you’ve done, Emily my duck.
Thank you for that.
Despite their ages, and their preference for iPhones rather than storybooks, I intend to corral my granddaughters and force them to hear the story of Alexander’s sweater and how it brought back bay-boy memories.
I might even remind them about how I had to walk miles to school on blustery days, not unlike the blustery weather in which Alexander is snug and warm in his Granny-green sweater.
Thank you for reading.
You’ve beamed me back to that October in a previous century when the Russians of the time fired Sputnik I into space, an event that caused doomsaying old folks to wail, “Them Russians are going to blow up the moon.”
But I forgive you.
It was not your intent, I’m sure, to slingshot my noggin and me into the Time-Space Continuum.
With Sweater [Pennywell Books] I imagine your intent is to spin a yarn (!), to knit an entertaining tale for children, while at the same time reminding them not ever to be disheartened because of Granny’s gifts.
Am I right?
(You can only imagine how sick and tired — even as a bay-boy with an urge to chipple — I became of those Granny-gifted, all occasions, pocketknives with the mounted Mountie on the handle.)
Also, as a fabulist I s’pose, your intent is to teach youngsters to appreciate the innate value of gifts that at first fail to satisfy childish desires.
Alexander is dissatisfied with his brand new Granny-gifted sweater because it “is big and itchy and sweaty and scratchy, and it makes him look like a marshmallow.”
Alexander has nary a thought about the sweater’s colour — one I call grandmother-green, the colour of grandmotherly love.
My Granny was so fond of this shade that she painted every single clapboard on her two-story saltbox grandmother-green.
Truly.
The picture of Alexander all puffed up in his cable-knit sweater with a scowl on his chops made me smile with a smidgen of nostalgia.
When I turned the page, however, a frightening feeling of portentous synchronicity filled my erstwhile bay-boy heart.
Alexander’s mother, like mothers everywhere, ignores her son’s disgruntled mood, and cheerily says, “You can wear it tomorrow for picture day!”
“Oh no,” thinks Alexander.
Oh no, indeed.
About the aforementioned heave-ho through time and space…
There exists a snapshot of bay-boy me, one of those ubiquitous school photos that have appeared anually pretty much since Confederation pupped.
Unseen in a faraway foreign land the Russians are fiddling with the launch codes for Sputnik I. I’m posed in a school desk — a reluctant scholar, no doubt — wearing my Granny-knit worsted sweater.
Yes, that’s right — Alexander and me rigged out in our Granny sweaters for Picture Day, eh b’ys?
Standing alone — a whole page to itself, for frig sake — Alexander’s sweater is “big, warm” and “woolly”.
I wondered about the wool. Store-bought, I imagine. Smelling sterile except for Granny scents — p’raps the aroma of Pillsbury cookie dough wafting from an electric oven.
My sweater — in the picture and in my time-tossed noggin — is grey, not grandmother-green as I may have suggested. Grey homespun worsted wool with the sheepy reek of lanolin still trapped in its purled stitches.
Its cuffs are frayed, and it’s probably peppered with woolly knobs, like the clinker-balls on a baa-baa’s derriere.
I have no memory regarding the fate of my sweater. Maybe it was raveled out and re-knitted as socks.
Alexander’s sweater, however, proves it worth. During a fire drill on a “blustery, snowy, wintry day” Alexander’s sweater keeps him snug and warm while his classmates shake with the bivvers.
After the fire drill, back inside the school, Alexander is “toasty warm and ready to take his picture.”
Understand what you’ve done, Emily my duck.
Thank you for that.
Despite their ages, and their preference for iPhones rather than storybooks, I intend to corral my granddaughters and force them to hear the story of Alexander’s sweater and how it brought back bay-boy memories.
I might even remind them about how I had to walk miles to school on blustery days, not unlike the blustery weather in which Alexander is snug and warm in his Granny-green sweater.
Thank you for reading.
May 18, 2022
After reading the picture book “Sweater” written and illustrated by Atlantic Canadian Emily Hepditch, it’s hard to believe that this was her first attempt at a children’s book. With an adjective-rich text, I found it to be a perfect children's read-aloud book. The description of Alexander’s sweater was priceless. It was “big and itchy and sweaty and scratchy, and it makes him look like a marshmallow.” The illustrations were colourful and matched the text perfectly. Without spoiling the story I will say that Grandmas know best in the practical vs. fashionable debate and to be warm on a “blustery, snowy, wintry day” you often do look like a marshmallow. I’m sure “Sweater” is just the beginning of a long and very successful career for Emily, as both a children’s story writer and illustrator!
May 26, 2022
I am beginning to think that there is nothing that Emily Hepditch can’t do. An accomplished, award-winning writer of adult fiction and now, a children’s writer and illustrator.
Ask any child from Newfoundland and Labrador and many of their favorite recollections of their grandmother is often the smallest thing; helping to bake bread or Nan always having something yummy in the fridge. But, more often than not, it’s the memories of the fuzzy socks or the warm mittens or scarves or woolly sweaters, knitted with love and worn with pride even if they are a little itchy.
“I love it!” declared my 6-year-old after reading “Sweater” with her dad. In fact, she loved it so much she chose to write about it for her homework that week. I then had to go searching all over the house for the book, eventually finding it on the desk in my 11-year-old’s room so I could finally read it myself. What I’m saying here is: this book appeals to people of ALL ages. This heartwarming, delightful tale takes us all back to that special place and time when we felt cherished by the love of a Nanny, wrapped up in a hug or snugged up in a sweater – warm and safe.
The illustrations in this book are charming and sweet. The verses are fun to read out loud and engages both reader and listener. This story of young Alexander, and his discovery that the gift his Nanny has given him is not so terrible after all, is a wonderful message for children and adults alike. A gift given in love is truly a treasure.
I can’t wait to see what’s next for this author!
Ask any child from Newfoundland and Labrador and many of their favorite recollections of their grandmother is often the smallest thing; helping to bake bread or Nan always having something yummy in the fridge. But, more often than not, it’s the memories of the fuzzy socks or the warm mittens or scarves or woolly sweaters, knitted with love and worn with pride even if they are a little itchy.
“I love it!” declared my 6-year-old after reading “Sweater” with her dad. In fact, she loved it so much she chose to write about it for her homework that week. I then had to go searching all over the house for the book, eventually finding it on the desk in my 11-year-old’s room so I could finally read it myself. What I’m saying here is: this book appeals to people of ALL ages. This heartwarming, delightful tale takes us all back to that special place and time when we felt cherished by the love of a Nanny, wrapped up in a hug or snugged up in a sweater – warm and safe.
The illustrations in this book are charming and sweet. The verses are fun to read out loud and engages both reader and listener. This story of young Alexander, and his discovery that the gift his Nanny has given him is not so terrible after all, is a wonderful message for children and adults alike. A gift given in love is truly a treasure.
I can’t wait to see what’s next for this author!
February 18, 2024
Such a cute story!
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews