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Art imitates life

November 17, 2009 2 min read

If I had a dollar for every person who's asked me if I've read The Friday Night Knitting Club, I would be a rich woman. Not sure why, but I have never read this book. It's not been one of my book club selections (not that I've been able to read those either), and I have just never made a point of seeking it out. It's not like I have tons of free time to spend reading - I have stuff to knit, you know?

Right after the book came out, the publisher sent LYSOs a teaser with a chapter or so in it to try and get the book in yarn shops. I read the first chapter and decided it just wasn't my kind of book. I decided it was Steel Magnolia's set in a yarn shop. Definitely a chick book.

Then Sunday, as I was walking out of church, my friend Helen Harrington handed me a copy. Now if you don't know Helen, she is a brilliant woman - sober as, well, a judge. Not at all one for drivel. So I was surprised that she had read this book - and liked it.

I was even more surprised that by Sunday afternoon, I was a third of the way through, and Monday I couldn't wait to get back to see what was happening with Georgia and the gang. Is it a chick book? Definitely, but not in the sappy way you would think. It's appealing in the same way it's appealing to sit at the table at Crazy for Ewe. We don't always know each other when we sit down at the table, but before long, we're sharing our knitting and our lives.

Maybe The Friday Night Knitting Club is a bit like a soap opera, but the characters are developed and more engaging. And when I am not at my own knitting club, I'm happy to be at theirs.