Those of you who stayed with me through the research and writing that went into LIZARD will know exactly how good this makes me feel. Finally, real books: the hardcover of LIZARD, the paperback of BLENHEIM. Decent covers, too, now that they've taken off the gingerbread trim and cleaned up the author panel at the bottom. But I still wish they'd go with something more realistic. The books aren't fluffy historical fictions--they're reality-based novels, sometimes fairly dark, and the covers ought to reflect what's inside. That's my idea, anyway.
To celebrate the arrival of books, we drove over to Marble Falls to have dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant--but it was CLOSED. As in forever. (There was fairly unmistakable clue in the parking lot: a dumpster filled with restaurant trash.) And when Bill came home and began reading at random through LIZARD, he found a typo on the first page he opened to.
But I learned a long time ago that no book is perfect. Bill says we never really finish a book, we just run out of time to make it better. Which is true. It's also true that no matter how many times the author(s), the editor, the copy editor, and the proofreader read the damn darn thing, there will be mistakes, and that sharp-eyed readers will find them and point them out. I'm bracing myself. (In case you were thinking of writing to us, we already know that there is an error on p. 76. Yes, we welcome your corrections--we send them on to the editor so the paperback edition can be corrected. No, we will not hire you to proofread the manuscript before it flies off to New York.)
To sooth my spirit, I'm knitting a blue hat. This will also use up some of the incredible amount of blue superwash that someone seems to left in my stash. The hat is easy enough to be perfect (almost).
Reading Note, from At Knit's End, by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. Thank you for these wise words, Steph (there are more on her blog: Yarn Harlot). As in the knitting of sweaters, so in the making of books:
A work of art is above all an adventure of the mind.--Eugene Ionesco
I know this will come as a shock to some of you, but knitting is a bit of a gamble. It is possible that you can knit a swatch, wash and measure it, carefully calculate your guage, absolutely study a pattern, execute it with patience and perfection . . . and still end up with something unexpected. This element of risk is what keeps the more adventurous of us knitting.
I will try to stay connected to my cheerful sense of adventure the next time an absolutely perfect sweater grows by 3 feet the first time I wear it.