Elizabeth Zimmerman’s fandom could be more properly considered a cult, but are her books worthy of the adulation?
Zimmerman means a lot to people, and I totally understand why. Her writing is warm and informal, without being sloppy. She dispenses solid technical advice without being intimidating. All of it is suffused with her sense of humor. She champions knitting as a way of life, and for knitters brought up on a diet of dry, boring pattern books, her works must have been revolutionary.
Elizabeth Zimmermann’s Knitter’s Almanac breaks down a year by month, one month per chapter. Each chapter begins with several pages of writing, and ends with a pattern (or three).
The chapter for March is a good structural example. It starts out by addressing the question “how much [yarn] do I need?” Zimmerman gives an overview of all the factors involved in answering this question, offers three ways to find the answer, then provides seven things you can do if you’re going to run short of yarn before your project is finished.
This is followed by 12 pages of writing about the project of the month, a half-page anecdote about her visit to a show where two of her works were being displayed, and two pages of her “pithy instructions” for knitting the pattern of the month.
This absence of coherent structure is, unfortunately, also a classic Zimmerman characteristic. I find her books very readable; very readable indeed. But maybe not so much with the whole thing about being a useful resource.
I honestly can’t imagine trying to assemble a fairly complicated sweater based on 1) twelve pages of good information about the pattern, presented in a breezy, flowing writing style, and 2) two pages of dense technical information (plus a hand-drawn chart).
Actually, I can imagine, because I tried to knit the Chainmail Hat from this book, and it nearly drove me to weeping. The “pithy” directions were too pithy; the verbose directions too verbose. In the end, I couldn’t figure out how to knit the damned thing, so I gave up and knit something else.
I take comfort in knowing that I’m not alone with this issue. Entire online communities have sprung up to provide technical support and supplementary information for Zimmerman’s patterns. Her writing is wonderful, but I have trouble endorsing any author whose patterns require that level of community-supported ancillary assistance.
Regarding the index, I would have to characterize it as “demented.” Several items may seem at first glance to be missing. Further perusal of the index may show that it’s simply listed somewhere you wouldn’t expect.
For example, the entry “Hat” includes sub-items Maltese Fisherman’s, Ganomy, and Three-Cornered. But where is the Chainmail Hat? Ah, it’s listed under the entry “Cap,” along with Aran Cap. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?
This is a good example of why and how an index can make or break a book. Elizabeth Zimmermann’s Knitter’s Almanac contains a stunning wealth of information, but it’s almost impossible to find it.
A similar problem exists for Zimmerman’s books as a whole. Unless you have memorized them, and developed your own mental index as to which technique can be found where, you’re sunk.
For example, how are you supposed to know that her directions for an Afterthought Pocket can be found in this book? Even if you knew it was in here somewhere, how would you find them? It’s not listed in the table of contents. You might check the index under the letter A (for “Afterthought Pocket”). No such luck.
The index entry for the Afterthought Pocket is listed under the letter P (for “Pocket: Afterthought”). (Dude, that’s just sick. Sick and mean.) If you really wanted the instructions, your only recourse would be to read through the entire book until you found it. (Hint: it’s in the glossary of techniques, at the end of the book.)
The word “train wreck” comes to mind.
It seems that Schoolhouse Press has no plans for her books, other than to keep republishing them in their original form. I think that’s a damned shame, because it doesn’t do her justice.
If I had all the money in the world, I’d pay to have all of her works compiled, reorganized, and the patterns rewritten by technical writers. This would then be released as a four-volume collection:
1. Slice-of-life writings.
2. Patterns, each in the format:
A. Original verbose description
B. Original pithy pattern
C. The pattern re-written by a contemporary pattern author
D. New schematics, pictures, and charts
3. Collected techniques (the Afterthought Pocket, Stretchy Sewn Cast-On, etc.)
4. A giant index
Believe me, it could be done. And it would be awesome. Until then, we have to muddle through with what we have at hand.
Do you want to buy it?
Only if you have a burning desire to knit a pair of Norwegian mittens using a paragraph of musings on spring, two pages of contemplation on how everyone has their own individual color preferences, one page giving an overview of mitten construction in general, two paragraphs about on how to knit an I-Cord border, one page on how to chart your own mitten motif, a two-page anecdote about the local fishing hole, one page of anecdotal writing on how she developed the technique of knitting an afterthought thumb on a mitered mitten, a hand-written chart, and a single dense paragraph of instructions, in that order. (Oh, how I wish I was kidding.) Buy it at Amazon.