Maggie Righetti, Knitting in Plain English

My reading lately has disappointed—more on that, perhaps, soon—so that’s part of the reason, perhaps, that the best book I’ve read these few weeks is the amazing Maggie Righetti’s Knitting in Plain English (2007).

I tried to knit a little as a teenager and then, last year, my daughter and I thought we might try it. We didn’t get much farther than buying some wool and when I went back, this year, to the stitches I’d cast on for a hat, they were much too tight to work with. I ripped them out and decided just to use that lovely purple and green variegated yarn to make a scarf.

That down, I went and bought more yarn and then I decided that quirky YouTube videos were not going to be quite enough. I’m just a bit too old and staid to find Stitch’n’Bitch amusing, so I bought this book.

She really is the Mark Bittman of knitting, teaching basics, principles, and methods, with a soupçon of Erma Bombeck or Nora Ephron. It’s a very funny and helpful book. More than once she writes “Once you accept that God gave you a brain and that She intended you to use it to make your life better, you can do almost anything.”

I have rarely read a book with such a terrific, funny, feminist voice. She describes, in goofy detail, the mistakes she made and the tearful outraged women who confront her at her yarn store with spoiled projects. She is frank about differences among our bodies—heavy arms, large busts, tiny waists—and how they demand that we alter patterns to suit the body we have. There are not many pictures at all, but what pictures there are show a range of races, ages, and body types. She is relentless and very funny about all the ways pretty, tall, slim, young models trick us into thinking we are admiring the sweater when we are simply admiring them.

There is a lot of prose, but there is also a catalogue of pretty stitches and a kind of syllabus of projects to work through to learn some basic principles with pleasure, most famously something she calls “The Dumb Baby Sweater”: “I don’t care what you do with these baby things when you have learned all you can from them. And I don’t pretend that they are things of beauty, but they are filled with learning experiences. What you do with the silly things after the learning is over is your business.”

Plus, from her I learned that the Kitchener stitch, a method of joining two knitted pieces together, was invented by Lord Kitchener himself.

You can read a little bit more about her here, and find some of her patterns at ravelry. Maybe this is all old news to you, but, not being a knitter (yet), she is a delightful discovery to me.