Anne Macdonald (1) (1920–)

As an avid knitter, I enjoy reading about the history of fiber arts, which as “women’s work” have often been overlooked. This social history of American knitting builds on what is already known about knitting in Western Europe and beyond, showing the importance of the craft from Colonial times to the late 20th century. I enjoyed learning both the practical uses of knitted garments and the ways in which knitting bound communities together. This book was published in 1988, so the story ends long before the “pussy hat,” although the seeds for that effort were sown when knitters contributed to war efforts. The book also predates the internet and the subsequent transformation of knitting design, education, and community, but again you can see the building blocks in 1980s community knitting guilds. My only quibble with this book is its coverage of the time in which it was published. The author’s research for that period was largely conducted through queries published in knitting magazines. While she received a strong response, the information is reported anecdotally: “Mary Smith from Hoboken, New Jersey said …” These should have been supported by factual reporting from books and other publications, rather than serving as a primary source. Still, this is a useful volume for anyone interested in the history of fiber arts.… (más)

Not as good as I expected it to be, especially considered all the rave reviews I've heard from fellow knitters. I didn't feel like the author took all the historical information and transformed it into a story. Instead, it's just strings of anecdotes and quotes strung together with little if any unifying context. Also, devoting only 2 or 3 pages to machine knitting really underestimates how big machine knitting got in the 60s to early 90s. It may not be the favorite topic of snotty hand-only knitters, but to exclude it so completely from a history of knitting is really strange. Machine knitting is part of the history of knitting, whether or not some hand knitters want to admit it.… (más)

Eleven-year-old Melody Mayne, nicknamed 'Lilt' because "she was only a little tune," finds herself in and out of trouble at dizzying speed in this charming school story from 1934. Surprising a would-be burglar attempting to break into the headmistress's safe in the first chapter, locating a missing diamond brooch and winning a £20 reward in the third, Lilt is never far from surprising adventures, and never short of friends, both young and old. When the goodhearted girl accidentally overhears her teacher Miss Hurst relating the tale of how her father, Colonel Mayne, was responsible for the death of Miss Hurst's own father, and the eventual ruin of her family, she finally understands why this instructor is so cold to her, and vows to do something to set things right. But although her motives are of the best, her awkward attempts to find a solution - in one incident, she and her friend Toss waylay the mail, in order to find the address for Miss Hurst's disabled sister, Marigold - lead only to misunderstanding and more trouble. Matters between the schoolgirls themselves are in a similar state of upheaval, as scornful Dinah attempts to bully the new Scottish girl Colina. But 'Scottie,' as she is nicknamed, is not all she appears, and the second half of the book follows Lilt and her friends as they fall headlong into a holiday adventure in the Scottish Highlands with their new friend. When Lilt and her close friend Gerda are kidnapped on a mist-shrouded moor, the resultant chase and recovery sets right another old wrong, this time involving Lilt's friends, the Bayne-Fords.

Coincidence and improbable circumstance are heaped upon coincidence and improbable circumstance in Lilt from the Laurels, despite the fact that the dust-jacket flap describes the book as abounding in "incident of a truly natural kind." If 'natural' incidents include confronting fake burglars at 2am, restoring kidnapped children to the bosom of their family years after their disappearance, and the curing of crippled young girls through medical intervention - made possible by the generous and kindhearted intervention of schoolgirl Lilt - then this book couldn't be any more natural. Leaving the question of probability aside, this was an amusing tale, and I found myself chuckling during Lilt's many exchanges with Sandy, Colina's older brother, and the would-be burglar our heroine confronts at the beginning of the book. There's plenty of melodrama here, but the reading experience is greatly improved by the sense of humor throughout. I understand that Anne MacDonald wrote three other girls' school stories, but sadly none of them are particularly common, and this was the only one available through my library. If I ever do get a chance to pick up another, however, I certainly wouldn't hesitate.… (más)

This is an interesting read about knitting in America from colonial days to the present of the writer in 1988. The last chapter talking about the boom in the 80's was to be followed by bust and then the modern boom and the explosion of the interaction of Knitting and the Internet. It was also pretty interesting when she was talking about some of the fashions and changes and popularity of certain yarns and perceptions about knitting. Much of which you can map as happening at the moment and you can also see some of what was popular waning as it has before and probably will wax and wane again.

It does also dwell on knitting for war and knitting for peace. Some intersting ideas. There was also a mention of a "stitch and bitch" in the mid to late 20th Century! The dearth of knitting for men and the curiousity about male knitters is also addressed.

It's a book that could do with a short update talking about the end of the 20th and the beginning of the 21st century knitting that's been written by people like me as I type. I'd also love to see a serious look at the history of knitting (and crochet) in Ireland, somewhat like this book.… (más)