A Bluestocking Knits

Polar Knitting

I've had "The Last Place on Earth" in the DVD player this week, in the hopes that watching something really cold will make me forget how very hot it is outside. The added benefit of this series -- aside from the general polar-geekiness and the Norwegian accents, I mean -- is of course the knits!  I don't know that I've ever seen this much in one series.  Every knitter, I suppose, has moments of knitwear-spotting.  I thought it would be fun to post some of mine, and so here is the inaugural post on "Knitting in the Movies" --

Obviously any movie about Norwegians in cold weather is bound to include knitwear, and "The Last Place on Earth" is no exception.  There is a charming little farewell scene in which Betty, Amundsen's housekeeper and former nanny (played by Astrid Folstad) comes with a goodbye present for the expedition members, a generous basket of knitted socks.  I loved the little touch that the socks she has knitted for the men are thick, sturdy, sensible grey things, but at the bottom of the basket are these fabulous black-and-white ones for Amundsen himself.  It is times like these that you wish the character would stop and say, "Oh, Betty, how thoughtful!  Look, Leon, etc. etc. etc." and examine the socks for a minute or two.  This glimpse is tantalizing.

The scenes on the Fram itself offer the most opportunity for knitwear-spotting, as once the ship gets to the polar ice-pack it is cold enough for heavy wool but not so cold for the men to be in their full sealskin gear.  Here, in the scene where Amundsen (Sverre Anker Ousdal) informs the men of their "detour" to the South Pole instead of the planned trip to the North as they had intended, we get a sight of three sweaters at once.

Bjaaland (Ståle Bjørnhaug) has a wonderful red-and-black gansey, obviously handmade and well-worn.  It has a basic boat-neck opening, fairly roughly finished or mended, probably with crochet, and a plain ribbed waistband and sleeve cuffs in red.  The construction of this and the other garments in the series seem to be the standard Norwegian type, with the body knitted in the round and steeked for the sleeves.  The all-over pattern of Bjaaland's is fairly simple but has a nice little lines-and-zigs effect from a distance.

Stubberud (Hans Ola Sørlie) has on a typical Setesdal lusekofte that appears to be in fact an off-the-rack Dale.  It is rather unusual in not having the slit-neck and colorful embroidery of most Setesdal pullovers.

The "expedition sweater" for the series was obviously the one seen in this scene on both Johansen, in the background behind Bjaaland, and on Prestrud, beginning to appear as the camera pans to the right.

It has a two-colored version of the slants-and-sticks pattern so often found in Faroese sweaters, and a rounded neck with a slit at the front.  The one worn by Prestrud (Bjørn Skagestad) has a neck apparently bound with a narrow cream facing, but Johansen's looks slightly different.

Helmer Hanssen (Jan Hårstad) wears his in the ice-pack scenes and later in the near-disaster of the first attempt at the Pole.  You can see here that the waistband appears to be a simple rolled stockinette

Here it is again on Johansen (played with wonderful harsh dignity by Toralv Maurstad):

The same sweater pops up, interestingly, with a different neck treatment here on Beck (Erik Bye):

The expedition cook Lindström (Jon Eikemo) has a plain wide-ribbed grey pullover with a loose turtleneck, possibly machine-made, which I was -- considering the rivalry between the Norwegians and the British -- quite amused to see was exactly the same as one worn by a number of the British, here for instance by Oates (Richard Morant):

Who knows at this remove what was going on in the minds of the costume folks ("bloody hell, we forgot something for Lindström! here, we've got masses of these!").  Only a knitter would notice, I suppose.

Hassel (Erik Hivju, second from right) has the only textured sweater in the series, a heathered brown or olive-brown boatneck sweater that is, frustratingly, never seen quite clearly.  The one on Amundsen is my personal favorite, and not just because Sverre Anker Ousdal is wearing it.  (Yes, he really is a good half-head taller than the others.  So was Amundsen.)  I love the combination of smoky-grey and black, the simple all-over cross pattern with interesting shoulder detail. 

Am tempted now to pick up my own Norwegian gloves -- oh, if only there was a cool breeze!

Booking Through Thursday: Recent Sadness

Booking Through Thursday asks this week: What’s the saddest book you’ve read recently?

Sometimes you just come across things accidentally at the library or bookstore that you pick up and think, "that sounds interesting".  I don't know why it caught my eye at the public library, but a month or so ago I came home with Cliffs of Despair by Tom Hunt, about the cliffs of Beachy Head in the south of England and the people who go there to commit suicide.  The author, an American whose brother-in-low shot himself, felt drawn to the cliffs in an attempt to understand not only why people kill themselves, but why Beachy Head?  What is it about the place that draws people there?  He interviews families of victims, taxi drivers who have unwittingly taken suicides to the spot, rescue workers, and coroners, acknowledging that he might seem something of an ambulance-chaser, this American come to ask such deeply personal questions, and so he takes care to remain gently unjudgmental throughout. Cliffs of Despair is certainly not a self-help book, either for those tempted by suicide or for families touched by it, nor does it even answer many questions.  Some questions have no answers.  But it does leave one somehow with a profound feeling of sympathy towards those who, for whatever reason, have found themselves on the edge of Beachy Head and either turned away or took the last, fatal step.

Mother, I Cannot Mind My Wheel

Mother, I cannot mind my wheel;
    My fingers ache, my lips are dry:
O, if you felt the pain I feel!
    But O, who ever felt as I?

No longer could I doubt him true --
    All other men may use deceit;
He always said my eyes were blue,
    And often swore my lips were sweet.

Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864)

Photographer unknown (Collector's Quest).

Thoughts on the Primavera Socks

Crumbs, it's been a while.  I keep thinking, "dear oh dear, I really should post -- I even have a few actually-finished knits!" and then, alas, nothing.  I thought that once both of the girls were in school all day, I would have loads of time, but it seems to be quite the opposite. 

But here are some Primavera Socks by Natalja of s(t)ockinette.  This pattern has apparently been around for a while, but was new to me when I saw it this past spring -- can't remember where now, unfortunately.

I like these socks very much.  It's a nice pattern, simple but just enough interest to keep it from being a dull knit, and the results are very pretty.  You can hardly ask for more from a pattern, really.  (I should have gone with my instincts, though, and made my usual generous toe.  The one as written is too slender for my extra-wide feet.)

I didn't care much for knitting with the ProNatura, as it was quite splitty, but now that it's done -- and worn several times -- I put that pleasantly behind me.

Love the acanthus-like bas-relief effect --