Security Blanket

I'm hopeless when it comes to knitting, embroidery, or even sewing on a button. My daughter recently enlisted my help on a father/daughter project gone teary, and we made a teddy bear...a very long necked teddy bear. After that project, I could have used another kind of longneck.

So I find it sort of curious that when I'm feeling blue, I gravitate toward knitting novels. Having exhausted the Kate Jacobs' series and the Knit Lit books by Beth Pattillo, I picked up a copy of The Knitting Circle by Ann Hood this week.

Hood's novel follows Mary Baxter from scarf to sock to sweater. With each new project, Mary befriends another knitter who frequents the Sit and Knit. With each new stitch learned, she collects another story of lost love. Finally, Mary shares her own story about the death of her daughter Stella.

This novel is similar to other knitting yarns in that it follows a group of women who gather in the community yarn shop. The shop is warm, safe, and cozy with the bright colors of the wares and the tempting aromas of that week's shared dessert. Although the characters could almost be fashioned from the same patterns other books rely one (the aloof expert, the frazzled mother, the lovelorn artist), they too offer a kind of no surprises comfort.

Immersed in the knitters' gossip, I don't have to worry that my down jacket makes me look like an extra from an 80s John Cusack movie instead of the Land's End model mom I envisioned. I don't have to worry about brakes that don't work on ice so that swerving into the Bear Claw drive-thru is the only way I avoid plowing into a line of cars that ridiculously have Michigan license plates. All I have to worry about is getting to the library before it closes. I have The Shop on Blossom Street on reserve. With Christmas fast approaching, I'm going to need it.

Break

There's a reason it's been years since I went to play pool. I'm terrible at math.

I've always suspected you needed to know something about geometry to be a decent pool player. However, for the heroine of Something Rising by Haven Kimmel, the game turns on physics. And hours of practice.

Every morning Cassie heads to the local bar and practices for three hours. There she doesn't have to worry that her dad has abandoned her. She can escape her mother musing about how her life could have been had she stayed in New Orleans. She can avoid her sister who feels more comfortable traveling to Ancient Greece than to the local supermarket.

After her mom dies, Cassie leaves Indiana for the first time and travels to New Orleans. There she discovers kind strangers and mean pool players. Picturing her mom's past, she has an eye for her own future.

What makes this a fascinating read is not the geometry or physics of the game. It's the chemistry.

Stuck

Some Amazonian kinkajous compiled this "personal" list for me. I like it.

Stuck by Oliver Jeffers

Possession: A Romance by A.S. Byatt

Nightwoods by Charles Frazier

Love's Exquisite Freedom by Maya Angelou

Zombies vs Robots: The Undercity HC by Chris Ryall

Absolute Sandman Vol. 5 by Neil Gaiman

Blood, Bones, and Butter

Every time I open a bag of tortilla chips, I'd love to reach for the homemade salsa we ate on our front porch in Woodburn. When it rains, I'd cry for the pan dulce we tried in Cuernavaca. Once I'm wandering hopelessly down the wine aisle in Kroger, I'd give anything to be drinking that wine poured in Due Santi.

I'm not alone in wanting to relive these food memories. There's a chapter in Gabrielle Hamilton's memoir Blood, Bones, and Butter where she makes a list. Among other experiences to savor in her new restaurant, she wants to dress the table in brown butcher paper, Cuban wedding china, and plates of her mother's recipe for veal marrow.

An accomplished chef, Hamilton has perfected the veal marrow. More importantly she has perfected the art of writing about it. She has pared her memories down to the essence. She takes us back to her first kitchen - her French mother's domain. She walks us through the drudgery of her early catering jobs. Finally, she travels to Italy and introduces us to her mother-in-law's Italian market.

Hamilton's reflection on her own childhood has inspired me to serve my children something more substantial than a reheated chicken nugget; we've been trying to be a little more adventurous. Perhaps one day they'll remember eating Mutsu apples they've just picked, spreading cherry jelly on their breakfast muffin, or sipping hot ginger-lemon tea on a cold, windy autumn day in Michigan. If they don't, I will.

This Pig Wants to Party

Maurice Sendak has a new book. I've put a new link to an interview I heard yesterday under Audio. Enjoy!

Not Starring Kirk Cameron

Setting a date for the Rapture is a tricky business. For the characters of The Leftovers, being left behind is even trickier. In Mapleton, the Sudden Departure has come and gone (Tom Perrotta has chosen October 14th if you're curious). Nora loses her two children and husband. Jill loses her best friend. Everyone loses Adam Sandler.

Those who remain struggle to cope. Some join cults. Jill's mom joins a group called the Guilty Remnant. Dressing themselves in white, they quit talking and take up smoking. Some follow YouTube prophets. Jill's brother Tom becomes a disciple of Holy Wayne and follows the movement to San Francisco. Some obsess over why they weren't chosen. Reverend Jamison circulates a vindictive newsletter revealing the sins of those who disappeared.

And of course others continue their annual pilgrimage to the mall for Christmas presents.

Though Perrotta's take on events is unique, he does fall back on a time-honored storyline. In the end, the salvation of at least one of his characters comes from a newborn under a starry sky.

He Forgot His Wife

When my grandparents lived in Arkansas, we used to make the six hour road trip to visit two or three times a year. Our rewards for that much time in a car were afternoons spent listening to my grandmother's stories, a bag of Snickers in the produce drawer, and a coffee table stacked with magazines. My mom and I would settle in on the sofas catching up on Hollywood gossip and the latest his side/her side drama of the advice columns.

My fascination, some might say morbid curiosity, with marriage (troubled or not) led me to pick up a new novel by Carol Edgarian. In Three Stages of Amazement, we are thrown into the marriage of Lena and Charlie. And from the first paragraph, we are almost certain this marriage can't be saved. His failing startup, a baby with medical issues, and an ex-boyfriend (Italian ex-boyfriend) are but some of the factors pulling their relationship asunder.

The others? Well, you'd be amazed. And you might need a Snickers to get you through it all.