The Great Christmas Knit Off by Alexandra Brown – A Book Review

GCKO pb cover.JPGAfter being jilted at the altar when her husband to be failed to show for the ceremony, Sybil has been in a bit of a downward spiral. She has been messing up at work and is depressed and lonely, sure that her life as she knew it is over.

The only thing that has brought her any kind of joy is her knitting. There’s nothing more satisfying or comforting than the click clack of knitting, of being able to create something from nothing. She’s always been crazy about all kinds of knit craft. It brings her to a happy place when nothing else can.

When Sybil makes a disastrous mistake at work that could cost Sybil her job, she takes off to visit her best friend Cher. She’s just taken on the position of bar maid at the Duck and Puddle in the picturesque postcard town of Tinledale. It’s the perfect place to escape all of her problems.

What she doesn’t expect to find in such a small village is a shop that caters to all of her knitting desires! Except that Hettie’s House of Habberdahsery is in need of a spruce up! It’s run by Hettie who is having her own woes to deal with: she’s facing the possible closure of her beloved store. Customers have dropped off and sales are almost non-existent!

When the two of them meet, Hettie is inspired by Sybil’s wacky Christmas jumper to try something different. With a bit of yarn and some knitting needles, maybe a Christmas miracle is possible…

I am constantly wowed by Alexandra Brown’s books and this one is my favourite of her books to date. It’s a warm hearted novel full of characters you will grow to love as the book progresses. There’s Lawrence, the owner of the B and B, Cher and her boyfriend Sonny who run the pub, Hetie and Sybil and many more. What I love about Alexandra’s characters is that, by the end of the novel, they’re your friends.

Sybil is a winning protagonist who is on a journey of self-discovery and I cheered for her the whole novel through. It was a delight to watch her shed her insecurities and emerge as the woman she was always meant to be.

What I loved most about this book was the depth and heart that it was written with. It never comes across as saccharine and the characters are dealing with real issues and problems that others will recognize. There is no duex ex machina to save the day, but instead the miracle occurs within the characters themselves.

Also a delight is the fact that you don’t have to know anything about knitting to enjoy the novel, but Alexandra somehow makes the act of knitting exciting. So exciting in fact that I’ve pulled out the scarf I started years ago and have resumed knitting it. I feel like I’m taking part in the Knit and Natter at Hetties, so wonderful is the spell that Alexandra weaves with The Great Christmas Knit Off!

With The Great Christmas Knit Off, Alexandra has really out done herself. You instantly feel as if you’re reading a Christmas classic. It’s got everything you could want in a Christmas read: great characters, heartache turned to joy, a miracle or two plus enough knitted jumpers to make even the biggest Christmas grinch happy! It’s an absolute joy from start to finish and I can’t wait to read it again!

Do yourself a favour this Christmas and read The Great Christmas Knit Off! Knit one, pearl two….

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Strings – A Poem

There was a10430391_10154933400270105_1778875768577040506_n

red thread that

ran from my

finger and into

the air. I

often tried to

see where it

was going or

who it was

connected to, but

it was as

if the end

was made from

air, invisible to

the human eye.

It wouldn’t come

off of my

finger either, but

remained stubbornly stuck

there, as if

reminding me of

something I had

forgotten. I wondered

for a while

at the purpose

of the red

thread, what it

could mean. I

started to notice

that the other

end of the

string would become

visible when I

was with someone

close to me.

I knew they

couldn’t see it,

but I could,

just when they

were around me.

I started to

see other threads

in other colours

connecting everyone to

someone. The strings

were pink, purple,

blue, orange, yellow.

strings of every

colour, like a

prism hit by

light. If I

looked at the

string on my

finger in a

different light, I

realised it wasn’t

just one string,

but hundreds, all

trailing from my

finger. I soon

realized how many

strings I was

tied to, how

many people I

was connected with.

I had red

strings going in

every direction, some

of them not

attached to anyone

I had met

yet. I wondered

who these strings

belonged to, who

they were. Then

I saw one

string that was

a different colour.

I hesitated only

a moment before

pulling on it.

It held strong.

It was a

deep and gorgeous

green colour. I

plucked at it

and heard the

string hum as

it vibrated. I

marveled at the

music it made.

Then I heard

another hum, felt

vibrations in my

chest where my

heart was. I

realised then that

these were heart

strings. I began

to follow that

particular heart string

to see who

it was connected

to.

 

No Longer Broken – A Poem

I went back.index

Back to the

cliff, back to

where my life

had changed. I

wondered, vaguely, where

the wind had taken

the Broken Man,

that part of me

that he had

seen me as.

The most difficult

for me was

that, for a

time, I had

believe him. I

had seen myself

the same way,

until I had

set the Broken Man

free upon the

air, carried away

by the wind

to fly over

the Earth, destination

unknown. I did

wonder what had

become of him

though and was

determined to find

out. He had

been so loud

in my head

for such a

long time. I

wanted to see

what had become

of him. So

I climbed to

the top of

the cliff and

looked down into

the valley below.

I could see

water shining towards

the left of

me, feel the

air on my

face. The earth

was a rust

coloured soil that

crunched with rock

under my feet.

The sun shone

down like fire

on everything. I

looked down and

saw white stones

peppering the grass,

making a path

that led down

into the valley.

I started to

work my way

down and I

looked at each

of the stones

closely. I saw that

they were actually

the cards that

I had let

fly into the

wind that day.

The Lost Soul

was there, his

scream preserved forever

in stone. The

Forgotten One had

his back turned

to the viewer,

a crowd of

people stood around

him, small specks

of shadows. As

I made my way

further down the

mountain, some of

them spoke to

me. The Lady

of Sorrows cried

out to me:

“Stay with us! You’ll be happy here in your sorrow. Remember what was! Pain and sorrow are easier than joy!”

I moved on.

The Lord of

Treachery was

there, whispering

lies to me,

his voice like

a thick oil.

“I will give you everything. All I ask is everything in return. Of course, I might not give you everything you want, not really.”

I was on

flat ground now

and the line

of stones formed

a path that

led further along.

Each card was

a stepping stone

that I had

left behind when

I let go

of the pain,

of the hurt,

of the longing.

When I had

let those Tarot

cards from the

unknown deck fly

out of my hands,

I had instead

embraced love

embraced kindness

embraced my own

intuition. The unknown

cards all cried

out for attention.

I had already

walked this path

and chose not

to walk along

it again. I

did not step

on the stone

made from cards,

but instead regarded

everything I had

been and thought

of everything I

had become. Some

of the other

cards called out

to me. The

Knight of Knives

and Blood let

out a loud

call of joy.

“You’ll never be free of us. Here, take my knife, harm yourself, let others harm you. It’s what you know.”

“Never.”

I said softly.

“Never again.”

I walked quickly

to the very

last stone in

the path, knowing

which card I

would see. There

he was, sitting

on his stone.

The Broken Man.

I regarded him

with narrowed eyes.

“You look remarkably like me.”

I said. He

turned and looked

at me, smiling.

“I am you. I have always been you.”

I shook my

head with vigor.

“No, you’re not. You weren’t me then and you’re not me now. Even at my worst, I was stronger than you.”

He stood and

came towards me.

“Really? Then why am I the only card not turned to stone? Why did you return to the valley?”

I hadn’t known

why, not really,

but the words

came out quickly,

as if they

had been ready,

as if they

had been waiting.

“I came for balance. I came for perspective.”

“A poor place for balance, don’t you think?”

I shook my

head again. He

regarded me with

narrowed eyes, dark

with intense hunger.

“Not really. It shows me what I’ve done, what I’ve left behind and everything that I’ve accomplished.”

He laughed than,

and it was a

sound that chilled

me. His glass

legs shone as

if they were

made of diamonds

as he came

closer to me.

“You’re so weak. You know you are. All it will take is one false step and you’ll be back here among us.”

“No, I won’t.”

“And why is that, prey tell?”

I regarded him

and knew that

my inner light

was shining forth.

He backed away

from me then.

“Because: you have no power over me. And I’m no longer broken.”

At those words,

the legs of

The Broken Man

shattered into thousands

of pieces. His

upper body fell

to the stone

and I watched

as he began

to sink into

it, his sneer

now a grimace

of fear. I

knew how he

had felt, but

I was no

longer afraid. I

hadn’t been for

some time. I

watched closely as

The Broken Man

froze completely, his

stare no longer

frightening, just sad.

The sun became

brighter around

me and I

watched as all

stones from the

unknown Tarot deck

were wiped clean.

I looked ahead

of me and

saw other stones

were there now.

I stepped on one

and watched as

a Tarot card

appeared. I looked

down to see

what the cards

had to say.

Street Rat Magic – A Poem

She is sittingGirl-with-Hands-out2

on the street

corner. I’m a

little surprised to

see her back.

“Irene?”

I say softly.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d left the streets.”

She looks up

at me, her eyes

wide and her

face tired and

pale. She gives

me a half

smile and shrugs.

“Times are tough, you know? Times are tough.”

I want to

bend down and

give her a

hug, some sort

of comfort that

would make the

pain she carries

on her face,

in her soul,

slip away, but

I can’t. Instead

I can only

give her some

form of kindness.

I take a

dollar out of

my pocket and

drop it in

her hat. She

smiles at me.

“Thanks. You were always good to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

I tell her.

“No, when you were a street rat, you always looked out for me. Always took care of others. I could never do that.”

I smile, warmed

by her words.

As I walk

away, I reflect

at how fortunate

I am. I was

able to get

off the streets,

out of the

shelters, away from

the food banks.

Through the kindness

of others, I

found my way

back home. I

was lucky. However,

I know that

others aren’t so

lucky, even ones

I used to

know like family.

She may not

have been family

of the blood,

but was instead

family of the

heart. She’s a

street rat to

some but to

me, she will

always be a

sister. I didn’t

look at what

I gave her

as just money.

In some way,

I hoped what

I was giving

her was a

bit of magic

so that she

could find her

own happily ever

after.

Love, Outside of Books – A Poem

One night, whileindex

I was reading,

my book began

to glow. The

pages gave off

a soft white

light. I set

the book down

and looked at

it in wonder.

A tune that

I couldn’t place

played from inside

the pages. I

watched as the

words along the

page began to

reform themselves into

other words. I

watched them as

they spelled out

a message to

me. I leaned

closer to them,

but they were

a swirl of

letters I couldn’t

read. The music

grew louder and

the light grew

brighter. I wasn’t

afraid, but only

curious. An outline

of a hand

appeared on the

page and I

placed my hand

on it without

hesitation. The music,

so haunting and

beautiful, grew louder,

the light brighter

still until I

had to close

my eyes. When

I opened them

again, I was

inside my book,

the trees of

the Enchanted Forest

surrounding me, tall

enough to touch

the sky. In

front of me

stood the object

of my affection,

the hero of

the story. He

was even more

dashing in person.

His blond hair

flowed in the

wind and the

music that had

been coming from

the book was

louder here. He

smiled at me.

“You don’t belong here.”

He said. His

voice was gentle

though they uttered

a reprimand. I

nodded in agreement.

“I know I don’t.”

“Then why do you look for your heart’s desire inside of a book?”

“Because it doesn’t exist. He doesn’t exist.”

He shook his

head. still smiling.

“You just haven’t found the right man yet. Give it time, your story still has much to be told.”

“True love doesn’t exist in my world. It’s only in books and fairy tales that you find true love. It’s why I spend so much time writing and reading.”

He leaned forward

and ran a

thumb along my

chin. His eyes

looked deep and

serious and full

of deep warmth.

“You have to love yourself. Only then will someone capable of true love be able to find you.”

My skin was

warm from where

he had touched

my face. I

tried to take

in the entirety

of him, but

the light was

growing bright again.

“How will he find me?

“You shine bright like a beacon. He will find you.”

“Promise?”

“As you wish.”

He said. The

light grew so

bright, I had

to close my

eyes again. When

I opened them

once more, I

was back in

my own room.

“As you wish.”

I repeated. I

didn’t have much

luck with wishes

come true, but

I knew this

one would. I

just had no

idea when. So

I waited and

hoped and prayed.

I got on

with my life.

I fell into

what I thought

was love when

it was something

altogether different. I

fell out of

love with myself,

believing that my

wish made all

those many years

ago would never

come true. Then

one day, I

saw a light

in the distance.

It shone brighter

than the sun,

and I was

reminded of the

light that filled

the Enchanted Forest

so long ago.

Though I tried

to get closer

to it, I

could not. I

knew that it

would come to

me in time,

or that I

would find it,

stumble upon it.

While I waited,

I focused on

myself, believing that

I would never

find the other

half of my

light, that part

of me would

remain dimmed forever.

When I had

given up hope

and had resolved

myself to being

alone for the

rest of my

life, you entered

it. I remember

the first time

I saw you,

the instant spark

that happened between

us. It created

a light that

shone so brightly

that I almost

looked away, but

I didn’t. I

could only look

at you, the

shape of your

your face, the

depth of your

eyes. All I

saw was kindness

and beauty and

then my light

responded to yours.

Both our beacons

intermingled until the

light became brighter,

until my body

was filled with

our glorious light.

I heard that

music of long

ago, that tune

I had heard

inside the book.

Now I realized

that it came

from me and

it was my

heart responding to

the possibility of

you. As we’ve

grown to know

each other, our

love and our

light has continued

to grow. You’ve

proved that love

doesn’t exist only

inside of books

and that with

love, anything is

possible. You’ve proved

that wishes do

come true. I

can only give

you my heart

and watch as

our light grows

ever brighter.

“As you wish…”