I know what you’re thinking. Because of this, and this, you’re concerned that I’m trying to subtly change our site into a knitting blog. That’s not my goal, in fact I’ve passed up the chance on several other occasions to post about the knitting that made my fingers twitch for wool in previous novels – for instance there was Henry’s mother’s offering of socks before he went to war, and Huck’s knitted suspenders, and that’s just to name that last two. See, I’ve spared you, friends.
But this one is important, second only to Dicken’s use of knitting in A Tale of Two Cities according to my footnotes. The two women Marlow encounters as he enters the Belgian trading company are ominously stitching away on black wool. It doesn’t take a Conrad scholar to notice the parallels between the darkness of their yarn and darkness of his. That worsted can only mean the worst.
But apparently there is even more to the story. The ancient Greeks taught of three Fates, two of which spun the life-threads of all people, the third cut the thread when lives were over.
So, are the two threads those belonging to Kurtz and Marlow? Who’s the third Fate? Why doesn’t Marlow die?
Did I mention that I have knitting patterns saved for nearly every novel we’ve read over in my Ravelry account. No? Well, maybe tomorrow, oh, sorry, this is a reading blog, this is a reading blog . . .