Maybe you just like to read and don't really need a reason. (me)
Or maybe you have a daughter who is interested in science. (me, again)
Or even, as a bit of a stretch, you like the authors name... (yup, me)
Either way, this book covers all criteria.
As an added bonus, even though it falls into juvie fiction, it had a few new words for me - and I was excited to see semaphore and dyspeptic again. I haven't read a book with new words for a long time. Must be all those Louis Lamours. Anyway, I'll share a few directly.
Last but not least, knitting content. Poor Calpurnia is forced to learn to knit, cook and be a lady when all she really wants to do it discover new species of plants, catch butterflies and grasshoppers and explore the great outdoors with her newly discovered scientific granddaddy. Needless to say, 11 year old Calpurnia's attitude toward knitting is not very gracious. But it was such a well written book we'll forgive her. The time frame of the book is 1899.
"We don't have any microscopes at school, Grandaddy."
This gave him pause. "Is that so? I don't understand the modern educational system at all."
"Neither do I. We have to searn sewing and knitting and smocking. In Deportment, they make us walk around the room with a book on our heads." (pg. 103)
This is what Calpurnia says when her caterpillar spins a cocoon.
"All day long, he squirted a fine gray thread from his front end (I think), and busily tangled it this way and that, fashioning a messy cocoon with odd bits of thread sticking out here and there. It looked like slapdash work. His knitting was no better than mine, which made me feel some sympathy for him." (pg. 117)
There is even a whole chapter called "Knitting Lessons"
"I think it's time you graduated from knitting scarves to socks. There's nothing like good, thick, woollen socks made by a pair of loving hands. If we start now, you'll have time to make a pair for all your brothers before Christmas, maybe even for Father and Grandfather, as well. Wouldn't that be nice? Bring your knitting bag, and we'll sit in the parlor." (pg. 152)
Did I mention she has 6 brothers...
"Although I was not excited at the prospect of knitting socks, the rhythmic shuttling of the wool back and forth was hypnotic, and I grudgingly had to admit that there might be worse ways to spend a rainy day. Might be.. Mother also seemed calmed and relaxed by this timeless domestic ritual; knitting always seemed to soothe her headaches, and she didn't need such frequent doses of Lydia Pinkhams's." (pg. 153)
Lydia Pinkham's was a herbal remedy that was 20% alchohol...
"Slowly - exceedingly slowly - the mess of wool in my hands began to take shape. The afternoon passed, and although I wouldn't call it fun, it wasn't as terrible as I had feared. At the end I had in my hand one small, funny-looking knitted brown thing. I held it up for inspection and decided that it looked more socklike than not."
'Well, that's that,' I said, packing up my knitting bag. 'Done.'
"What do you mean, done? Where are you going? Let's start on the next one."
The next one?" I yelped. Was she crazy? It had taken me hours to make this one.
"Of course the next one...what's Jim Bowie going to do with only one sock?"
"I don't know, " I said. I wanted to add, I don't care. Mabye he can make a puppet out of it.
"And what about the other boys? And Father? And Grandfather?" she said.
I counted up. There were the six brothers plus Father and Granddaddy, and they had many feet amongst them. So that meant there was also tomorrow, and the day after that and the one after that. My mind reeled. There was my whole life for you, socks stretching all the way to the infinite horizon, a yawning valley of knitting tedium. I felt sick." (pg. 154-5)
Can you handle one more?
"My work could charitably be described as sloppy, like Petey's cocoon. Stitches dropped themselves and later reappeared at random so that the long striped scarf I was knitting bulged in the middle like a python after dining on a rabbit." (pg. 213)
Suffice it to say, I really enjoyed this book.
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