The Friday Night Knitting Club
A Novel
(Sprache: Englisch)
Gathering for their weekly knitting club at a small yarn shop on Manhattan's upper west side, a group of friends shares such challenges as raising children, navigating the ups and downs of their education and careers, and pursuing uncertain relationships.
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Gathering for their weekly knitting club at a small yarn shop on Manhattan's upper west side, a group of friends shares such challenges as raising children, navigating the ups and downs of their education and careers, and pursuing uncertain relationships.
Klappentext zu „The Friday Night Knitting Club “
THE #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLEROnce a week, an eclectic group of women comes together at a New York City yarn shop to work on their latest projects and share the stories of their lives...
At the center of Walker and Daughter is the shop s owner, Georgia, who is overwhelmed with juggling the store and single-handedly raising her teenage daughter. Happy to escape the demands of her life, she looks forward to her Friday Night Knitting Club, where she and her friends Anita, Peri, Darwin, Lucie, and KC exchange knitting tips, jokes, and their deepest secrets. But when the man who once broke Georgia s heart suddenly shows up, demanding a role in their daughter s life, her world is shattered.
Luckily, Georgia s friends are there for encouragement, sharing their own tales of intimacy, heartbreak, and miracle-making. And when the unthinkable happens, these women will discover that what they ve created isn t just a knitting club: it s a sisterhood.
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Open Tuesday through Saturday, 10 am-8pm.No exceptions!
The hours of Walker and Daughter: Knitters were clearly displayed in multicolored letters on a white sandwich board placed just so at the top of the stair landing. Though Georgia Walker usually preoccupied with closing out the till and picking up the strays of yarn on the floor rarely made a move to turn the lock until at least eight fifteen or later.
Instead, she sat on her stool at the counter, tuning out the traffic noise from New York's busy Broadway below, reflecting on the day's sales or prepping for the beginner s knitting class she taught every afternoon to the stay-at-homes looking for some seeming stamp of authentic motherliness. She crunched the numbers with a pencil and paper, and sighed. Business was good, but it could always be better. She tugged at her long, chestnut curls. It was a habit from years ago she d never quite grown out of and by the end of each day her bangs often stood straight up. Once the bookkeeping was in order, she'd smooth out her hair, brush off any bits of eraser from her jeans and soft jersey top, her face a bit pale from concentration and lack of sun, and stand up to her full six feet (thanks to the three-inch heels on her well-worn brown leather cowboy boots).
Slowly she would walk around the shop, running her hands lightly over the piles of yarn that were meticulously sorted by colorfrom lime to Kelly green, rust to strawberry, cobalt to Wedgwood blue, sunburst to amber, and rows and rows of grays and creams and blacks and whites. The yarn went from exquisitely plush and smooth to itchy and nubbly and all of it was hers. And Dakota's too, of course. Dakota, who at twelve frequently ignored her mother's instructions, loved to cross her dark eyes and savor the fuzzed-out look of the colors all merging, a rainbow blending together.
Dakota was the store mascot, one of its chief color consultants (more sparkles!), and frankly, a
... mehr
pretty damn good knitter already. Georgia noticed how quickly her daughter was making her projects, how particular she was becoming about the tautness of her stitches. More than once she'd been surprised to see her not-so-little-anymore girl approach a waiting customer and say with confidence: "Oh, I can help you with that. Here, we'll take this crochet hook and fix that mistake " The shop was a work in progress; Dakota was the one thing she knew she'd done exactly right.
And yet when Georgia finally went to turn out the lights of her shop, she would often be met by a potential customer, all furrowed brow and breathless from dashing up the steep stairs to the second-floor shop, the seemingly innocuous "Can I just pop in, for a quick minute?" out of her mouth before Georgia could even insist they were done for the night. She'd open the door a little wider, knowing all too well what it was like to juggle work and kids and still try to sneak in a little something for herself on the side: reading a book, coloring her hair in the bathroom sink, taking a nap. Come in, get what you need, she'd say, putting off the short climb to her sparsely decorated apartment on the floor above. She never let any straggler stay past nine on a school night, though, because she needed to shoo her Dakota from the corner desk where she did her homework. But Georgia would never turn away a potential sale.
She'd never turn away anyone at all.
"You can go home, Anita," Georgia would say over her shoulder to the trusted friend who worked in the shop alongside her. Anita always stayed until closing time, peeking in on Dakota's studies as Georgia wondered about keeping the older woman out too late. But even though she had the opportunity to leave, Anita, who still looked as fresh in her Chanel pantsuit as when she'd come in for her shift at three pm, just smiled and shook her head, her silver bob falling neatly into place.
Then Georgia
And yet when Georgia finally went to turn out the lights of her shop, she would often be met by a potential customer, all furrowed brow and breathless from dashing up the steep stairs to the second-floor shop, the seemingly innocuous "Can I just pop in, for a quick minute?" out of her mouth before Georgia could even insist they were done for the night. She'd open the door a little wider, knowing all too well what it was like to juggle work and kids and still try to sneak in a little something for herself on the side: reading a book, coloring her hair in the bathroom sink, taking a nap. Come in, get what you need, she'd say, putting off the short climb to her sparsely decorated apartment on the floor above. She never let any straggler stay past nine on a school night, though, because she needed to shoo her Dakota from the corner desk where she did her homework. But Georgia would never turn away a potential sale.
She'd never turn away anyone at all.
"You can go home, Anita," Georgia would say over her shoulder to the trusted friend who worked in the shop alongside her. Anita always stayed until closing time, peeking in on Dakota's studies as Georgia wondered about keeping the older woman out too late. But even though she had the opportunity to leave, Anita, who still looked as fresh in her Chanel pantsuit as when she'd come in for her shift at three pm, just smiled and shook her head, her silver bob falling neatly into place.
Then Georgia
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Autoren-Porträt von Kate Jacobs
Kate Jacobs is the author of the #1 New York Times bestseller The Friday Night Knitting Club, Knit Two, Knit the Season, and Comfort Food.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Kate Jacobs
- 2008, 400 Seiten, Maße: 12,9 x 20,9 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Berkley Publishing Group
- ISBN-10: 0425219097
- ISBN-13: 9780425219096
- Erscheinungsdatum: 10.01.2008
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Praise for The Friday Night Knitting ClubLike Steel Magnolias set in Manhattan. USA Today
The book's great worth reading now. Glamour
Impossible to put down. Booklist
It's all here dating, love, motherhood, career, estrangement, death and, especially, friendships that span generations...[A] quick, fun, poignant yarn. The Seattle Times
Knitters will enjoy seeing the healing power of stitching put into words. Its simplicity and soothing repetition leave room for conversation, laughter, revelations, and friendship just like the beauty shop in Steel Magnolias. Detroit Free Press
An absolutely beautiful, deeply moving portrait of female friendship. New York Times bestselling author Kristin Hannah
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