I couldn't resist Wild Violet's primitive "tarot" trio: The Stitcher, The Ripper, and The Snipper.
They are stitched on 18-count aida; I hate aida, and I'm trying to use up my stash. In keeping with the primitive vibe of the design, I died the fabric myself with tea and a little baking soda (to set the color).
They remind me of the Three Fates, which might be intentional.
I don't know when or why I got this set of stories, but I'm so glad I did. Inspired by the tediousness of air travel, LeGuin posits the ability to take that tedium, and the accompanying stress and misery, to change planes (get it?) and visit another world.
The stories that follow are thought exercises on different aspects of humanity, each reflected in the culture and history of alien races. They are by turns satirical, melancholy, threatening, and wistful, and the last one is a mind-bender that left me feeling destabilized -- not something I often feel when reading.
They remind me greatly of Jorge Luis Borges's stories, in that they are driven by philosophical concepts rather than plots; no surprise, though, given that LeGuin has cited Borges as an influence. This is not the book for someone looking for a traditional story, or even well-rounded characters. But if you want something that will make you think about what it means to be human, this is perfect.
Having impulsively purchased a bunch of fall-hued Czech glass leaves, I realized they would make a great pair of earrings, especially if I allowed them to dangle from lengths of chain:
But the resulting pair was way too heavy to wear for more than a few minutes. I thought about replacing a few of the glass leaves with acrylic ones, but that might also be too heavy. Instead I reconnected the two lengths of chain and added a bit more, to make a bracelet:
Shady Hollow by Juneau Black: The delightful first novel in a cozy mystery series set amongst woodland critters. It reminded me quite a bit of Emmett Otter's Jug Band Christmas.
The Simplicity of Cider by Amy E. Reichert: This was basically a Hallmark movie in book form. Some aspects I liked, such as the protagonist's synesthesia, and other parts I didn't (therapy generally works better than the love of a good man).
The City Baker's Guide to Country Living by Louise Miller: This was a reread for me. It's also a Hallmark movie in book form, but with sex, alcohol, and messy relationships, which makes the inevitable happy ending more satisfying.
An Inquiry into Love and Death by Simone St. James: This was the perfect ghost story -- atmospheric, spooky, romantic, not too violent, and neither over- nor underexplained. I will be reading more of her books.
Still Life by Louise Penny: Another smart, melancholy Three Pines mystery? I've been reading this series backwards, starting with The Cruelest Month. But where do I go now? For real, I'll probably read no. 4 and maybe one or two others, but from what I've read the series has diminishing returns.
A Night in the Lonesome October by Roger Zelazny: Zelazy's last novel (and supposedly his favorite) is a fun mash-up of various literary monsters who gather together to bring about, or maybe prevent, the end of the world. It's narrated by a talking dog, too!
Welcome, and happy Halloween! I haven't been able to do as much blogging this year, but I always enjoy participating in Jo's blog hops.
I did get a little stitching done. Rosewood Manor's Blackbirds on a Pumpkin, which I started a couple of years ago, finished up quickly (I only had two colors left to do):
I stitched two designs from XStitch the Rainbow's Autumn Garden collaboration, Ardith Design's Autumn Floral Urn:
and Bendy Stitchy Designs' Autumn Colors (my favorite):
But the stitching I'm most excited about is the first two of Wild Violet's Primitive Tarot trio:
I think I might push myself to stitch the third before I get started on any Christmas ornaments. I guess I did more stitching than I realized!
In any event, you are all here for a letter:
(It's an I, and part of my ongoing alphabet series; in my head, the letter I is white.)
You're also here for the link to the next blog, which is Jeremiah's Mom. Happy hopping!
I don't know what I'm going to do with them, but they were fun to stitch.
At Swim-Two-Birds by Flann O'Brien: I'm working my way through the metafiction canon. This was a bonkers satire of Irish folklore, literature, and culture; it includes three beginnings, three endings, constant digressions and asides, and most amusingly, an author put on trial by his characters. It's not the easiest read but it was fun. Someday I'll be ready to tackle Ulysses!
Yellowface by R.F. Kuang: Like The Plot, but with fewer murders and more wokeness. It's a brutal satire of publishing, book culture, and racism, and Kuang threaded the needle perfectly with a protagonist who is by turns sympathetic, frustrating, and monstrous. I loved it.
Ink Blood Sister Scribe by Emma Törzs: This was loads of fun -- a novel take (har har) on the creation and use of magic books, along with some family drama and long-buried secrets. I found the writing style to be a little melodramatic, but I stopped caring a few chapters in. I look forward to Törzs' next book.
Deerfield embroidery was a style that developed in colonial New England, specifically the town of Deerfield and the surrounding area. It was a form of crewelwork using wool on linen, and the designs were stylized flowers and leaves, often shared with neighbors.
In the late 19th century, the town became interested in its own history, including the arts and crafts of the colonial era, and two women -- Ellen Miller and Margaret Whiting -- founded the Deerfield Society of Blue and White Needlework. Its purpose was to document and preserve all embroidered works and patterns that they could, and also replicate the designs for their own use or for sale. Wool threads were harder to get at that time, so they used instead linen threads (of a much better quality than we can get today) but stuck to the mostly blue and white palette. Miller and Whiting were accomplished embroiderers who expected the best from their stitchers, and for several decades this artistic community thrived.
With the Bicentennial fever of the 1970s came a renewed interest in all things colonial, and in 1976 Margery Burnham Howe published this book documenting this history of Deerfield and the Society and devoting a good chunk of it to patterns, stitches, and stitch guides. It's a wonderful resource.
So why am I interested in it? I grew up in western Massachusetts, and went to a private school right in Old Deerfield. We often visited the local museums and restored houses, and of course being little kids we were especially fascinated by the Deerfield Massacre. The first style of embroidery I learned was crewelwork, in a class at my school (every trimester we picked a Friday elective). All this to say, this book made me quite nostalgic.
I intend to buy my own copy (I got this one from the library) so I can stitch several of the patterns; Polly's Parrot in particular is calling to me. In the meantime, I stitched a badge with the logo of the Society, a flax wheel:
I don't actually like blue, so I picked the purpliest blues I had from my stash of crewel wool. The D is in satin stitch and the rest is in New England laidwork, aka Roumanian stitch. Several of the stitches were known by different names then, including buttonhole which was called the spike stitch. The Deerfield embroiderers also invented their own stitch, a variation of herringbone; I hope to learn and use that in the next project.
This book is well-worth adding to your stitch library.
It's been a tough year.
Sourdough by Robin Sloan: Lois is a computer programmer who feels lost until she learns how to make sourdough bread. This is not a typical return-to-simpler-things book, though; Sloan is too smart for that. Lois uses her background in technology to improve the bread making process and joins a collective devoted to cutting-edge food production. It's an unusual book about the delight of making things, and the second one I've read with a sentient sourdough starter.
Better than Fiction by Alexa Martin: This, I'm sorry to say, was a disappointment. The protagonist runs a bookstore even though she hates to read, but instead of a novel about expectations, bookishness, and intellectual snobbery, it was a mediocre romance complete with sassy best friend, meddling aunties, cartoonishly evil antagonist, and secrets that didn't merit the angst they produced.
Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett: I loved this "cozy historical fantasy" about a British academic dealing with dangerous fairies, skeptical townspeople, and an annoying colleague. I'm excited to read the next one when it comes out this winter.
I've made a lot of jewelry over the past few months that I forgot to document on the blog, so here it is.
A gorgeous strand of amazonite from Allegory Gallery inspired me to do some knotting again. I added rose quartz, beryl, and faceted moonstone to make a very long necklace that can also be wrapped around my wrist. I don't wear pastel colors much, but this is a lovely combination:
I don't know how I got it into my head that I needed a Prince necklace, but who am I to turn down an excuse for purple jewelry? The silver charm is one of a pair of earrings, and the beads are a strand of amethyst I got for free from Lima Beads's delightful annual Easter egg hunt on their website.
While spending hours on the Lima Beads website I found a cute project for necklaces to wear together, so I made two to create a set of sorts with some other necklaces:
Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries was a fun book with a beautiful cover that inspired me to embroider a pendant with wintry flowers and a sinister hand:
I haven't made brick stitch earrings with fringe in decades, so that had to be remedied. I've included a picture of the first "draft," too wide and with the wrong size thread. More fringe earrings are in my future.
Finally, a simple necklace I made with the African Christmas beads I can't get enough of:
Phew!
I started this back in May, when I was 80 days into the 100DayProject and desperate to stitch something new. For a few weeks, Sue Spargo demonstrated different embroidered flowers and stems, all done on a piece of wool felt. I used a smaller piece, so I only did one of each flower (and omitted a couple). This was a joy to stitch, so fun and pretty.
Some close-ups and in-progress pictures:
To finish it I backed it with a piece of cotton and did some "big stitch" quilting with pearl cotton that matched the felt; as you can tell, I didn't worry about even lines or precision. I was inspired to stitch the false binding closed with french knots, rather than slip stitch -- faster, more fun, and another way to add texture.
Love it! And now I get to put it away until next spring.
Remember the cellini spiral bracelet I made ages ago? I decided I really needed some earrings to go with it (one can never have too many earrings). After browsing through the Cellini Peyote Freaks facebook posts, I settled on the "Pepper" beaded bead designed by Cath Thomas.
Because I wanted to use the same beads I used for the bracelet, I had to size up the called-for beads, from sizes 15, 11, and 8 to 11, 8, and 6. But the pattern also called for size 11 delicas, which would now be too small. Instead I substituted more 11s:
I wish I had taken a before picture -- mid-process, the beading looked like a total disaster. But when I zipped up the two sides it all came together like magic.
But, I wanted the green to be more prominent. A brief discussion on facebook told me there was such a thing as size 10 delicas, so of course I had to buy some (such a sacrifice, going bead shopping). I'm even more pleased with the results:
As you can see, I also made a chili pepper, just for fun, using the called-for sizes.
Yay!
Vile Bodies by Evelyn Waugh: This satire of "Bright Young Things" between the Wars is sharp and brutal, even laugh-out-loud funny, but as the book progresses it also gets bleaker (Waugh got divorced while he wrote this). I admired it, and I'm glad I read it, but I wasn't in the right headspace to spend so much time with vapid, superficial people. Warning: the n-word shows up a couple of times, which I was not at all expecting.
The Echo of Old Books by Barbara Davis: I'm mad that I read this. It has an interesting premise -- used bookdealer Ashlyn can pick up psychic impressions from books, especially the two she's found that tell both sides of an unhappy love story -- but it was terribly executed. The star-crossed lovers at the heart of the novel were snobby and insufferable, there was fatshaming and slutshaming (meanwhile the "slut" had the most interesting story, and the most integrity, of the bunch), the magic realism aspect was non-existent after the first few chapters, and, worst of all, the author wrote a terrible, offensive portrayal of suicide. I am mystified that this book is as well-reviewed as it is.
Anne of Windy Poplars by L.M. Montgomery: A palate cleanser! I adored the Anne stories as a child, but my paperbacks from the 1980s are falling apart so I'm treating myself to new, hardcover versions. I started with this one because it is my favorite and because it is the hardest to get, as it is not yet in the public domain. Montgomery really is an excellent writer -- perceptive, both clear-eyed about and forgiving of people's faults, and genuinely funny.
Once Upon a Prime: the Wondrous Connections Between Mathematics and Literature by Sarah Hart: Of course I'd be all over a book that unites math and literature. Hart displays both a deep enthusiasm for literature and math and a delightfully dorky sense of humor that made this a fascinating, engaging read. And now my list of books to read is even longer.
White Cat, Black Dog by Kelly Link: One of my favorite authors is back! The short stories in this collection are riffs on classic folktales. Link has a talent for this sort of thing, incorporating modern details like jazzercise, brunch spots, and cellphones while keeping the dreamlike fantasy, and even horror, of the original tales.
Disappointed that I didn't get to stitch any 12 Days of Christmas designs last December, I vowed to start early (February, I think) and stitch a few before summer ended. "A few" turned into "one," and that one was a large design (much bigger than I anticipated), but still! I have something to add to the collection!
The design is from Gazette 94. It's a little too big to count as an ornament, but I love the colors.
Kuang's stand-alone fantasy novel posits a world where magic is the literal product of translation; silver bars inscribed with a word or phrase in two languages capture the meaning or implication that is lost in translation, producing an effect related to that lost meaning. Linguistic scholars at the Babel Tower in 19th century Oxford exploit this flaw in translation to aid the British Empire and its citizens. Kuang, who is a translator herself, understands all too well the impossibility of a translation that captures perfectly the intended meaning and all its nuances. She also peppers the narrative with lots of fun etymologies.
Kuang is interested in more than just a dark academia fantasy, however; at every step she challenges the reader to think through the implications of a magic system so thoroughly entwined with an empire determined to hold on to power. Robin Swift is a Chinese boy taken from his family and home country so that his linguistic talents, particularly his status as a native Cantonese speaker, can be developed and used in England's efforts to force the Chinese government to yield to unfavorable trade agreements. His cohort at Babel consists of other outsiders -- Ramy, a Muslim Indian, Victoire, a Haitian-French girl descended from slaves, and Letty, a white English girl expected to replace her brother after his untimely death -- who each grapple with their roles in perpetuating colonialism, in different ways. Robin, for example, must overcome his tendency to do what is expected of him and be the "model minority." Letty, on the other hand, struggles to reconcile the privilege she experiences because of her skin color and nationality with the very real sexism she faces. Witnessing the racism her friends face, she tries to dismiss it as the acts of a few bad people, rather than a symptom of a cultural, economic, and political system built on prejudice. And then there's Victoire, who has it worst as a Black woman; more than anything she wants to survive.
While the novel is highly praised (deservedly so), there's a strain of criticism I've seen pop up everywhere; namely, that Kuang was too heavy-handed in her condemnation of colonialism, that she should have allowed readers to figure it out for themselves. But if the themes of the story are something for us to work out, it becomes all too easy to just not do the work -- to skim the ugly parts and ignore all that unpleasantness that makes us feel vaguely guilty in favor of the cool, magical world centered around an actual tower (albeit not made of ivory). That's exactly what the Babel academics do, focusing on their fascinating work while turning a blind eye to its uses and implications. Kuang does not want us to gloss over the evil of what is happening, so she never lets us forget it.
It's not an easy read, but it is well worth it.
I joined the #100DayProject, a challenge to get artists out of a rut and into a daily habit of creating, on February 22. And what a mistake it was!
1) It turns out, I already have the habit of creating (or at least stitching or beading) every day, and if I don't on a particular day it's because I'm dead tired, both physically and emotionally.
2) I'm not creatively blocked; in fact, I have a notebook of ideas and little time to explore them.
3) Although the Project doesn't require it, I picked one thing to work on -- my Hawai'ian quilt (huh, apparently I never showed off the completed center), specifically the crazy-quilted borders. But working on the same thing for one hundred days straight was tedious; so tedious that around day 80, I switched to a fun Sue Spargo stitch-along.
4) The obligation to post on Instagram every day was exhausting. I'm clearly not cut out to be an influencer.
That said, I really did enjoy seeing other people's art, and I made a lot of progress on my own project, finishing two sides and most of a third:
A few of my favorite seams:
Next year, I'll just be a spectator.
Zevin's novel lived up to all the hype -- a story about two lifelong friends who are devoted to each other but struggle to communicate. Sam and Sadie meet as children in a hospital and immediately bond over Super Mario Bros. We follow them as they drop out of college (Harvard and MIT), create a ground-breaking video game, found their own company, and split over competing visions. There are misunderstandings and arguments, betrayals and tragedies, but they can never quite let go of each other. It's a moving, nuanced portrayal of a deep friendship between too prickly, creative, troubled people.
It's also a paean to creative work, and the drive to make something. Sam focuses on what's popular, what will get the most players, and Sadie cares more about the art and storytelling, but they both want to design a game that will matter to other players, and both are uncompromising in their own ways.
Sadie and Sam are the main focus of the narrative, but the book is filled with other characters in orbit around them, most notably Marx, the loyal friend to both and the one who bankrolled their vision. At one point, in a burst of anger, Sam calls him an "NPC" -- non-player character -- and says he doesn't matter. But as Marx points out, without NPCs there's nothing for the player character to do. Marx may continually take a back seat to Sam and Sadie, but his effect on them, and his role in the story, make up the core of the novel. Zevin excels in creating wonderfully realized characters, and in Marx she created one of my favorites ever.
If there is one flaw in the book, it's that the narration is a bit inconsistent. With two notable (and brilliantly effective) examples late in the book, Zevin uses an omniscient third-person point of view, but there's a moment early in the book where the narration changes slightly, as if the story is being told to a specific audience by a specific person. This peters out (perhaps the legacy of an earlier draft?) and the omniscient point of view reasserts itself, until it doesn't for a heart-breaking turn two thirds of the way through.
I absolutely loved this book. And I want to start playing video games again.
I'm on a roll with the jewelry-making.
Sari spiral earrings, inspired by a PBS show that talked about the cultural significances of spirals:
I took two lengths of recycled sari cord and coiled them, using small tacking stitches to hold them in place. I added a sprinkle of beads for a hint of sparkle.
Frida earrings:
Love them, and I want to make more.
Shiva earrings (I got the pattern from an old beading magazine):
Each earring is composed of three identical sections, each one a rivoli crystal surrounded by peyote and herringbone stitching:
Doesn't it look like a dragon's eye?
Flower and birdie earrings:
I actually made these in the winter, but it's only now I feel like wearing them.
The Alchemyst by Michael Scott: as tween I would have absolutely adored this fantasy novel about twins who discover they have magical powers, especially they way Scott throws in historical and mythological characters from all over the world. As an adult, I found the writing too simplistic. I'm not sure I will finish the series.
Everyone in my Family Has Killed Someone by Benjamin Stevenson: a meta-mystery that's a fun, modern take on the classic locked-room mystery, with a genre-savvy narrator who helpfully tells us which clues we can ignore and what pages the deaths happen on. I highly recommend it if you love mysteries and/or post-modern fiction.
Ten Thousand Stitches by Olivia Atwater: the second of her Regency Faerie Tales. This one was a riff on Cinderella, with a fairy godfather and a housemaid so angry at the injustices she and others experience she inspires the rest of the staff to engage in collective bargaining. Although I loved the idea that Effie's magic has the ability to stitch emotions into her mending and embroidery, I didn't enjoy this novel quite as much as the second one.
A Wizard's Guide to Defensive Baking by T. Kingfisher: this was an absolutely delightful story about a 14-year-old girl who uses her magical powers over bread to save her city, with the help of her two familiars -- a carnivorous sourdough starter named Bob and an adorably tough little gingerbread man.
The Oxford Murders by Guillermo Martínez: this is a re-read of a literary mystery set at Oxford and involving math (I love math!). It's very good, but I'd forgotten about the last set of deaths, which hit too close to home and leave a lingering misery in me. The movie version is not great.
Other Birds by Sarah Addison Allen: Allen's latest, long-awaited (by me, anyway) novel is a delight. The writing itself was a little rough, but the story -- about lost mothers, found family, and grief -- made up for it, as did the ghosts and pesty little birds that plagued the characters' apartment building.
The Wailing Wind by Tony Hillerman: Next in the Leaphorn, Chee, and Manuelito mysteries, and a fitting choice for November, because the myth of La Llorona figures into the story. Which was both a murder to be solved and a heartbreaking love story.
[It looks like I never blogged the previous Hillerman books I read. Inspired by the excellent Dark Winds show last fall, I picked up a three-in-one volume of Hillerman novels: Leaphorn, Chee, and More. These books introduce Manuelito, whom I loved on the show, and all three were enjoyable, atmospheric mysteries. Another Hillerman novel -- Sacred Clowns, I think -- I read in college, and it was good, too.]
The Djinn in the Nightingale's Eye by A.S. Byatt: Inspired by the movie 3000 Years of Longing (which I have yet to see), I reread Byatt's short story collection (the title story is what the movie adapts). These are elegant, literate stories that have the feel of fairy tales but are more complex and self-aware.
Half a Soul by Olivia Atwater: An unexpected delight -- Atwater's book is a mash-up of regency romances and fantasy, with a good amount of social commentary; the Faerie Court in particular effectively satirizes the hypocrisies of the time.
Miss Pym Disposes by Josephine Tey: Another book I read in law school and forgot all about. It's an accomplished-enough mystery set in a woman's college that's light on action and heavy on psychological characterization, but it was a letdown after the wonders of Cloud Cuckoo Land. An unexpected racist description didn't help matters.
I've made several necklaces over the last couple of months, but I haven't had time to blog about them until now.
A charm necklace:
Michaels had an adorable set of alphabet charms, and I used my sons' initials for this. I interspersed them with colorful cane glass beads. But what to do with the other 23 letters ...
A silver necklace:
I cannibalized two old necklaces I never wore any more to make this one. I like it, and it has a nice weight, but I want to make another, plainer one using Hill Tribe silver; I'm just not sure if I have enough of those beads.
A vintage necklace:
I had two bracelets (one with three-strands) made with vintage plastic beads that fell apart. Since the bracelets were a little too chunky for me, I opted to mix the beads all up into a necklace. It's not really my style though, so I may sell it, if I get around to setting up a Ko-fi site (etsy has become increasingly seller-unfriendly).
A pretty necklace:
This took some time to come together; I had stacked the buttons together quite some time ago, but I didn't know what to do with them (using wire to make a pendant didn't work). Much later I bought some pendant trays, and the buttons seemed like a good fit for one of them; all that I needed to do to make the fit perfect was add a perimeter of teeny seed beads -- which took another two years to actually do. Then I finally came up with a strand, using the leftover "pearl" beads from a necklace that belonged to my grandmother.
