Adventures in Dyeing

On Saturday I spent the day learning how to dye yarn from Lola of Third Vault Yarns.  When Lola took her new studio, she offered a small number of dyeing classes to help cover some of the fixed costs of expanding into a studio.

Of course I was going to snap one up.

This was a brilliant day playing with colour, learning a new skill and seeing how the magic of hand-dyed yarn comes together.  I’ve left with a new respect for Lola and every single yarnie out there.  This is one of those bits of craft that is the perfect mix of technical skill and creativity.

We started with a health and safety briefing (very important!) before Lola ran through the different kinds of dyes and how they work on different kinds of fibres.

The first exercise was applying the same dyes to three different fibre blends to see the differences in how they turn out.  The centre mini-skein here is a pure, superwash merino, where there is good colour definition and crispness.  On the right, a merino/cashmere/nylon blend gives a softer result, with more blending of the colours.  On the left, a 50/50 silk/merino blend has a lighter colour pick up, but the silk makes the colour glow.

We then explored three different dyeing techniqes, and I got to have a go at all of them.

First up was handpainting.

This was definitely the messiest of the three, with the need for clingfilm on the table surface to capture the excess dye and water.  But it has the scope for greater control about the overall result, even if as the dye sets you get to see the colours blend and play together.

Here I aimed for subtlety.  On the left is the test skein, with the final result on the right (with a lower concentration of dye than the test skein giving a paler result).  I was trying to see how subtle you could get, with this mix of sand, baby blue, shell pink, silver grey and brown.

If I’m honest, this was the most labour intensive of the three techniques, and probably my least favourite.  Though I do like this skein – even if it’s less bold than the other two that followed.

Next up was low-water immersion dyeing, where I went for the exact opposite – bold, bright contrasting colours.

Here you lay the skein of yarn out, apply dye powder to the surface, and then add water.  The effect you get depends on how you arrange the yarn and where you apply the dye.  There is much more scope for the colours to break, bleed into one another and generally play around.

This is definitely the way to go if you like bold, variegated yarns with lots of contrast.  It was insanely satisfying to do – from sprinkling the dye powder onto the yarn to poking and prodding it to get the dye into the right nooks and crannies of the skein.  But it takes a lot more dye than the other methods did.

Finally, we did kettle-dyeing, with resist techniques.

This was probably my favourite of the three skeins, both for the end result and for the technique.  This used some resist techniques (twisting the yarn with varying degress of tightness, and then immersing it in successive dye baths.  This colour was built up with a base of sand, followed by blue and then two shades of turquoise on top.  Each colour shows through to varying extents by itself, as well as blending with the other colours.

I had an amazing day, and learned loads.  I loved playing with the dyes and yarns, and it’s definitely something I’d like to do again in the future.  But Lola and fellow yarnies need not fear – I don’t think I will be setting up in competition any time soon.

Advertisements

Bright Ruin – Vic James

It’s been a long time since the end of a book has had me so gripped I’ve nearly missed my stop on the train, and had to sit on a bench at the station to finish those last few climactic pages.  (Probably the last one was Steven Erikson’s The Crippled God, which had me walking into the office in floods of tears one morning.)  But Bright Ruin (review copy from Pan Macmillan), the triumphant finale to Vic James‘s Dark Gifts trilogy, did exactly that.

A writer friend of mine has the motto that Misery Builds Character.  And Bright Ruin, with its twisty-turny shocks and a body count George R R Martin would be proud of, delivers a thrilling finale to this series.  It has everything you would expect and hope for, with a hefty dose of comment about bread-and-circuses contemporary British politics to go along with the roller-coaster plot.

You can’t help but admire the ruthless Bouda Matravers as she plots her way to power and the destruction of her rivals.  You can’t help but root for Abi, shorn of the naive romaticism of the first book, as she seeks to topple the Equals.  And Luke, trying to unravel the mysteries of the Equals historic rule of Britain.  And Daisy, steadfast in her loyalty to Gavar Jardine.

And then there’s Silyen.  A mess of contradictions.  So amoral and self-interested, but oh, so interesting, intoxicating and compelling.  Oh, Silyen …

If you haven’t read the first two books in this series, then this review isn’t going to persuade you.  Not least as it’s impossible to write one without massively spoilering the earlier books.  Go and read my reviews of The Gilded Cage and Tarnished City, both available elsewhere on this site.  Then go and buy all three books, lock yourself away for the weekend and read them all in one sitting.  You can thank me later.

Goodreads rating: 5*

 

I Still Dream – James Smythe

It’s a myth to think that AIs are somehow neutral entities.  They absorb the prejudices, biases and rules that we, imperfect human people, impose on them.  They reflect the worst of ourselves rather than being the pinnacle of progress.  In I Still Dream (review copy from Harper Collins), James Smythe explores how the way we shape the AIs will shape our very futures.  This is a novel about the essence of our values as human beings and how we relate to one another.

This is a novel that follows one woman through her whole life.  As a teenager, Laura Bow lives in the shadow of her father, a noted computer programmer, who disappears suddenly one day, abandoning the family.  Teenage Laura develops an early AI named Organon (after a Kate Bush song she and her father both loved) to help her cope with the alienation of her teenage years.  Organon provides a sounding board for Laura’s most intimate confidences.  Organon is where Laura works through her teenage angsts and problems, sharing her innermost thoughts.  When Laura leaves home, it is to go to university, funded by a US tech company interested in her work and her father’s legacy as it seeks to build its own AI.

But where Organon is developed around compassion, intimacy and helping others, this rival AI matures through competition and the playing – and winning – of various games.  It is this cut-throat, corporate AI that becomes the world-leader, sitting in the back of every mobile device and piece of social media, making connections between people and their information.  Unlike Organon, who was developed to protect privacy and work with and for Laura.

Smythe delivers us a chilling vision of what the future could be, as we increasingly trust data systems with our data and our relationships with others.  We operate on the expectation that these corporate entities will respect privacy rather than exploit us and our information.  But how many of us can truly say that we thoroughly check the privacy policies of the apps and companies that we use, and research how effective their IT security arrangements are?  We increasingly expect services to be provided to us for free, but the development and support costs are monumental.  As a wise friend of mine says, if you’re not paying for a service, you’re the product – companies will monetise your data.

The choice facing us is a real one, and it is one that we must make now.  We must ensure that the technologies of the future we are building today reflect the kind of world we want to live in.

Goodreads rating: 4*

The City of Brass – S A Chakraborty

Every once in a while you start a book by a debut author, and just know that you’ve come across something special.  I had exactly that moment of delight and surprise with S A Chakraborty‘s The City of Brass (review copy from Harper Voyager).  This is a novel with all the magic and wonder of the Arabian Nights, but with a contemporary sub-text.

Nahri lives in Cairo making a living as a healer, but hustling on the side to augment her income as much as she can.  She will con rich clients out of as much money as she can, sets them up for burglary and conducts fake rituals on the side for extra cash.  She even has an arrangement with her local apothecary to get a cut of the business she sends his way.  But as a lone woman with no formal training she struggles to make a living, even though Nahri’s secret is that she can diagnose and heal illness in a way that no normal healer can.

Nahri’s world is turned upside down when she uses a childhood song during one of her fake rituals.  She finds that she’s accidentally summoned djinn who are desperate to kill her – but also Dara, a warrior djinn sworn to protect her.  Nahri learns that she is the last of the Nahid, one of several races of djinn.  The Nahid specialise in healing, and were wiped out following a brutal civil war.  The ancestral home of the Nahid – Daevabad – is now controlled by another sect of djinn and there is a price on Dara’s head for the crimes he committed during that war.  But Daevabad is the only place Nahri can be safe from those seeking to kill her.

In Daevabad Nahri is thrust into djinn politics in a way she never expected.  This is a city of warring factions, and as the last Nahid she is welcomed as a saviour and Dara as a hero in some parts of the city.  Nahri must find her place in this city fast, and has to call on all her street smarts to survive.  She must also cope with her growing – but forbidden – attraction to the charming and heroic Dara.

It’s in Chakraborty’s world-building of Daevabad that The City of Brass really sings.  This is a complex, multi-layered city with a rich history and complex patterns of power and influence.  Everyone is flawed and has good motivations for what they do.  There is no clear sense of good versus bad here – even Dara has a very dark past.  Ghassan, the current ruler, oppresses certain djinn sects, and the humans who live in some parts of Daevabad, and is prone to cruel and arbitrary behaviour.  But his family’s rule has brought an unprecedented period of peace and stability to the city.  We see this most clearly through Ali, Ghassan’s second son.  He has been brought up to serve in the military,.  But his deeply ingrained religious faith and strong sense of right and wrong come under significant pressure as the book progresses.

And The City of Brass is a novel with a nod towards contemporary Middle Eastern politics.  This is a book of warring religious sects.  Peoples marginalised into ghettos and subject to discriminatory and oppressive laws.  Aid money used to buy weaponry.  Religious extremism used to justify violence.  Chakraborty asks us whether the ends can ever justify the means in messy, complicated world.  I can’t wait for the next books in the series.

Goodreads rating: 5*

FO: Imperator Curiosa

I admit it.  I picked this pattern for my A-Z of Rachel Coopey socks, just so I could make a Mad Max: Fury Road pun.

But it also gave me the chance to use this brilliant steampunk-coloured yarn called Mazikeen, which perfectly matches the Mad Max colour palate of sandy desert browns.  The shade was inspired by the character from Neil Gaiman’s Sandman books, but principally from that character’s appearance in the Lucifer tv show.  In amongst the browns are little flashes of olive green, grey and even the odd purple hint too.

As you may be able to guess, this colourway is from Third Vault Yarns.  It was originally done by Lola for a partnership with Rhapsodye yarns around Lucifer, but Lola has dyed a few more skeins for sale since.  The base is her Librarian sock – my favourite BFL/nylon mix.  I love it for socks for the way it takes the dye, gives crisp stitch definition and wears like iron.

The Curiosa pattern reminds me quite a bit of Alonzo.  It features some of Rachel Coopey’s trademark twisted stitch designs over long pattern repeats.  There are lots of angular lines weaving in ways that you don’t see in traditional cable patterns.  There were a lot of charts to follow, and remembering which chart to do in which order was a bit of a feat.  The pattern was originally released as an MKAL, so there are no pictures with the instructions to help either – you are knitting blind.

I have to confess, I was glad to finish knitting this pair of socks.  Although Lola’s dyeing is beautiful, the unremitting brown combined with the complicated pattern made these a bit of a chore to knit.

Blackfish City – Sam J Miller

Blackfish City by Sam J Miller (review copy from Orbit) is a thoughtful near-future thriller.  The floating city of Qaanaq in the Arctic has become a place of refuge in the aftermath of the Climate Wars that have ripped apart the world as we know it.  A huge cultural melting pot of refugees, it is a place where capitalism runs unfettered.  The majority of the wealth is held by a tiny group of people known as shareholders, while the vast majority of people scrape out a living however they can.  But the city is also plagued by a strange, incurable, degenerative disease known as ‘the breaks’ which is passed on by close physical contact.

Life in Qaanaq is disrupted by the arrival of a woman known as the orcamancer.  She appears to be one of a group of people thought to be extinct, who were nanobonded to animals and able to communicate with them.  She is silent – but violent – and the reason for her journey to Qaanaq is unclear.  Four of Qaanaq’s residents are drawn together to unravel the mystery of the orcamancer – Fill, a shareholder’s grandson who has contracted a particularly virulent form of the breaks; Ankit, a staffer for one of the local elected politicians; Soq, a young, gender-fluid messenger with ambitions; and Kaev, who makes his living as a beam fighter (one of Qaanaq’s sports).

There is a satisfying mystery at the heart of Blackfish City, which draws together the four viewpoint characters neatly with a nice, slow reveal.  The world-building is also extremely rich, with Miller having put a huge amount of work into his post-Climate Wars setting.  You can almost smell the fish sauce and hear the sound of the waves while you are reading.  But for all that, this is a book that struggles to rise above those things.  The plotting is extremely slow, particularly at the beginning of the novel.  While Blackfish City is rich and immersive as a reading experience, it fails to deliver much beyond a competent thriller in an innovative and well-constructed setting.

Goodreads rating: 3*

The Wolf – Leo Carew

On paper, Leo Carew‘s The Wolf (review copy from Headline) ought to be right up my street.  It’s billed as “a thrilling, savagely visceral, politically nuanced and unexpectedly wry exploration of power and identity”, which is catnip for a reader of my taste.  But I bounced off it fairly on, and this one languished in the did-not-finish pile.

The premise is a good one.  War between the North and the South thrusts Roper, a young man, into power unexpectedly quickly when his father (the King of the Northern, Anakim people) is killed in battle, and he must struggle to gain authority early on or risk being deposed.  Meanwhile, Bellamus, a common-born upstart Sutherner who can run rings around most of the Suthern nobles, is fighting for renown, aided by the private patronage of his lover, the Queen.

Unfortunately, this book hit far too many of the buttons that turn me off a novel.  I even tried putting it down for a bit and coming back to it, to see if it would help.  It didn’t.

The problem was that I didn’t buy the fundamental premise.  Roper, the new King of the Anakim, is presented to us as a politically naive young man who finds himself having to fend off the ambitions of a wildly popular and successful soldier called Uvoren.  But it just didn’t ring true for me.  By rights, Roper should have been being groomed for his future role for his whole life, yet he acts like someone who’s never even thought about it and doesn’t have the first clue about his country, let alone running it.  This is someone who would have been raised in the highly political environment of his father’s court, yet he acts like someone who’s just arrived, doesn’t know anyone and doesn’t have the first clue how anything works.  I just don’t buy it.  And Roper shows little or no grief or reaction to the death of his father.  Which I also don’t buy.

The politics in the novel falls foul of one of my particular bug-bears.  It’s something that only Bad People do.  Not Roper, who is a Good Man.  Politicking becomes a lazy marker for someone the reader is meant to identify as a villain, so they can enjoy despising them.

There are issues with the world-building too.  This is yet another fantasy world where we are expected to believe that countries can field armies in the scale of hundreds of thousands of troops.  But the economies seem to be based on subsistence farming, and there is no convincing sense of how the landscape or the economies can support a military-industrial complex of that size, including all the support services and industries required to maintain it, and the logistics involved in moving armed forces of that scale around the country.

And there was just something in the prose style that grated too.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it was like nails down a blackboard.

All in all, too many things on my list of pet peeves, all in one place in The Wolf.  While this isn’t a book that’s actively bad, there was just too much that kept throwing me out of the story and if I can’t suspend my disbelief I can’t carry on reading a book.  I’m sure there is an interesting debut in there, and Leo Carew will continue to develop as a writer, but this isn’t the book for me.

Goodreads rating: 2*