Favorite Knitting Books
Knitting books are very personal things. One knitter's can't-live-without favorite might elicit nothing but yawns from another.
I recently purchased two highly anticipated sock books. I'd like to tell you I love them. I'd like to tell you they'll be with me until I lay down my circs for the last time. If I did, I'd be lying to you. (I'd also like to tell you the titles but the author in me finds it tough to say negative things about a book in a public forum.)
What are your can't-live-without-'em knitting books? Which ones will you take with you to the grave? Are you an EZ disciple or do you worship at the shrine of Charlene Schurch or Lucy Neatby?
In random order I give you the following:
- Elizabeth Zimmerman's An Opinionated Knitter
- EZ's Knitting Workshop
- All 3 Sally Melville books
- Lucy Neatby's Cool Socks, Warm Feet (Or is it Warm Feet, Cool Socks?)
- Socks! Socks! Socks!
- Twisted Sisters sock book
- THE Wendy's book
- Nora Gaughan's newest (title not in front of me, but it references nature)
- Compassionate Knitting - Tara Jon Manning
- Men In Knits - Tara Jon Manning
I am the first to admit that I am a drama queen. Goldisox says I see the world not only in technicolor, but with stereophonic sound and a laugh track. I mean, I hate going into the bank because the second I walk through the door I imagine armed robbers bursting in behind me, guns drawn, faces masked, screaming for us to hit the ground or somebody's gonna get hurt. I hear the gunfire. I hear the screams. I see myself scrunching along the tile floor in search of the alarm button that will summon or teeny tiny police force . . . all this in the time it takes to deposit a check.
Let's just say I'm not exactly the kind of knitter/woman you'd figure would be drawn to a Zen Buddhist approach to knitting. But I am. Tara Jon Manning's book resonates with me in a way I can't properly articulate. Knitting is more than just knitting. It's a connection to a deeper something that sooner or later I'm determined to understand. My inner child? Your inner child? All those generations of knitters who came before us? I wish I knew.