Barbara Kingsolver is an astonishing, wonderful author. I discovered her in college, when someone suggested I should read Pigs In Heaven. Over the years I have ended up reading just about all of her books and I love them all. She is a true storyteller.
I picked up The Lacuna a little while ago from the library. To be honest, I didn't know if I would finish the book. I didn't know if I could connect with a story about a boy who moves around a lot.
Of course, she hooked me within the first ten pages, and I hardly put the book down.
It only made my respect for Kingsolver grow when I found that she had tucked little glimpses of a knitter, from a non-knitter perspective, over 300 pages later.
Harrison Shepherd (the main character) and his transcriptionist (who is more than that, but not in the manner you might think), Violet Brown, are traveling together in a car. He describes her as they travel.
"She has eleven nephews and nieces, I learned, and meant to outfit the tribe on this journey, working through socks from top to toe, all from the same massive hank of blue wool. The coming holiday shall be known as "The Christmas of the Blue Socks from Aunt Violet." She worked on a little frame of four interlocked needles that poked out in every direction as she passed the yarn through its rounds." - page 333.
A frame of needles? Of course, that's what it looks like from the other side! I also love that the direction of the knitting is mentioned, but nothing about the hands. Right or left? Pick or throw? Meaningless to a muggle. Only the product, the needles and the yarn are clearly visible to the uninitiated. That is so easy to forget.
"The click of knitting needles, the shush of tires through leafy muck. The lozenge of space inside the automobile felt surprisingly safe, like a small home moving through a tunnel of darkness. Mrs. Brown finished off a sock before speaking again." - page 336
Well, she was decreasing, naturally. It gives you time to think a bit.
"The needles clicked in the dark. She must have read the pattern with her fingertips." - page 337
Impossible, but fun to imagine. I would hope that, setting out to make 22 socks, one would eventually not need to read the pattern.
