Book review: Threads of Life, by Clare Hunter
Hello everyone!
Here's something different from me today, a book review. I was given Threads of Life, by Clare Hunter (Sceptre, 2019) as a Christmas present from my mother and I have just finished reading and feel like writing about it.
Before I get into the detail, I would like to start by saying it is brilliant to see a book like this. So much of textile history takes an art historical or industrial history view if the subject, and it is marvellous to see an unashamedly sociological and humanising take. This is an ambitious book, looking at the social, emotional and community aspects of textiles throughout history, with a particular focus on embroidery.
But why, oh why, does this book not have any pictures? Who on earth thought it was a respectful treatment of a discussion of visual material to not have even a single plate? I had to read it with my phone out, ready to do Google image searches of the textiles described, where possible.
Aside from this obvious deficiency, the book is nicely presented. The textured cover, giving the illusion of stitches is a particularly nice touch.
The book is divided into 16 thematic chapters, such as Frailty, Identity, Loss, Place and Art. It has short Beginning and Ending meditations at either end.
I am afraid I was unimpressed by the first chapter, Unknown. This concentrated a lot on mediaeval examples of needlework, in particular the Bayeux Tapestry. This is an area where the author has clearly stepped off her own territory, but very firmly on to mine, being as I am French-speaking linguist, who has viewed the tapestry a number of times and am also wife to an historian specialising in the Anglo-Norman period (order his Guide to the Normans here!) So I found it odd to see a historical discussion with no footnotes, endnotes or even in-line references. There is a bibliography but it is scant compared to what I would expect from a book of this nature. These details do not exist to make a book look serious, or to give citations to academics, they exist to give due credit, avoid plagiarism and, most importantly, to allow the reader to check, verify and learn more from the author's sources. There were several parts of both this section, and the incredibly interesting story of Mary Queen of Scots' use of embroidery in Power, where I would very much like to look at the source material and find out more. However, I found it completely unforgivable of the author and her editors to refer to the losing king at Hastings as Alfred. Twice. Especially as Hunter uses the conceit of actually looking at the tapestry for the first time in her discussion, and the words Harold Rex are very clearly embroidered on it.
However, after this, the book improves markedly. The author writes fluently and engagingly. Hunter's treatment of the more modern material is much better, not least because she has some wonderful second-hand oral sources. A particularly nice piece is the discussion of the Changi Prisoner of War quilts in Captivity, where Hunter views a quilt with the son of one of the women who made it, and the insights from him allow the author to give a very humanised account of the quilt's stories.
Indeed, the more immediate Hunter's sources, the better her writing becomes. And she is at her best when she is giving snippets from her own life, in which she has worked extensively on community needlework projects, predominantly in Scotland. Hunter has a vast experience of working different groups of people in this way and as these stories are rarely told publicly it is good to see them in print. An anecdote about helping a group of mental health patients to make curtains for their hospital is very nicely written.
Indeed, if I were still living in Glasgow, I would very much be trying to meet the author to hear more of her stories and get in on some of her projects.
Overall, I really enjoyed the book, and I think it's a pity her publishers seemed unwilling to pay for pictures and an editorial team that respected the subject matter enough to take it seriously as history. I very much hope it has enough success to warrant a properly illustrated and referenced second edition, and that we hear much more from Clare Hunter soon.
Reading this is very much making me feel like I need to do more to record my own stories, so expect more 'Before the blog' posts soon! In the meantime, I will leave you with this picture of a community quilt in my possession, my Bridal Quilt - half of the blocks are from my side of the family and the other half from my husband's. It was organised and finished by my mother, Theresa Higgins.
Here's something different from me today, a book review. I was given Threads of Life, by Clare Hunter (Sceptre, 2019) as a Christmas present from my mother and I have just finished reading and feel like writing about it.
Before I get into the detail, I would like to start by saying it is brilliant to see a book like this. So much of textile history takes an art historical or industrial history view if the subject, and it is marvellous to see an unashamedly sociological and humanising take. This is an ambitious book, looking at the social, emotional and community aspects of textiles throughout history, with a particular focus on embroidery.
But why, oh why, does this book not have any pictures? Who on earth thought it was a respectful treatment of a discussion of visual material to not have even a single plate? I had to read it with my phone out, ready to do Google image searches of the textiles described, where possible.
Aside from this obvious deficiency, the book is nicely presented. The textured cover, giving the illusion of stitches is a particularly nice touch.
The book is divided into 16 thematic chapters, such as Frailty, Identity, Loss, Place and Art. It has short Beginning and Ending meditations at either end.
I am afraid I was unimpressed by the first chapter, Unknown. This concentrated a lot on mediaeval examples of needlework, in particular the Bayeux Tapestry. This is an area where the author has clearly stepped off her own territory, but very firmly on to mine, being as I am French-speaking linguist, who has viewed the tapestry a number of times and am also wife to an historian specialising in the Anglo-Norman period (order his Guide to the Normans here!) So I found it odd to see a historical discussion with no footnotes, endnotes or even in-line references. There is a bibliography but it is scant compared to what I would expect from a book of this nature. These details do not exist to make a book look serious, or to give citations to academics, they exist to give due credit, avoid plagiarism and, most importantly, to allow the reader to check, verify and learn more from the author's sources. There were several parts of both this section, and the incredibly interesting story of Mary Queen of Scots' use of embroidery in Power, where I would very much like to look at the source material and find out more. However, I found it completely unforgivable of the author and her editors to refer to the losing king at Hastings as Alfred. Twice. Especially as Hunter uses the conceit of actually looking at the tapestry for the first time in her discussion, and the words Harold Rex are very clearly embroidered on it.
However, after this, the book improves markedly. The author writes fluently and engagingly. Hunter's treatment of the more modern material is much better, not least because she has some wonderful second-hand oral sources. A particularly nice piece is the discussion of the Changi Prisoner of War quilts in Captivity, where Hunter views a quilt with the son of one of the women who made it, and the insights from him allow the author to give a very humanised account of the quilt's stories.
Indeed, the more immediate Hunter's sources, the better her writing becomes. And she is at her best when she is giving snippets from her own life, in which she has worked extensively on community needlework projects, predominantly in Scotland. Hunter has a vast experience of working different groups of people in this way and as these stories are rarely told publicly it is good to see them in print. An anecdote about helping a group of mental health patients to make curtains for their hospital is very nicely written.
Indeed, if I were still living in Glasgow, I would very much be trying to meet the author to hear more of her stories and get in on some of her projects.
Overall, I really enjoyed the book, and I think it's a pity her publishers seemed unwilling to pay for pictures and an editorial team that respected the subject matter enough to take it seriously as history. I very much hope it has enough success to warrant a properly illustrated and referenced second edition, and that we hear much more from Clare Hunter soon.
Reading this is very much making me feel like I need to do more to record my own stories, so expect more 'Before the blog' posts soon! In the meantime, I will leave you with this picture of a community quilt in my possession, my Bridal Quilt - half of the blocks are from my side of the family and the other half from my husband's. It was organised and finished by my mother, Theresa Higgins.
Thanks for reading!
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