Book Review: Better Homes and Gardens Stitchery and Crafts
Tanya A. Brown

I am inordinately fond of the fund-raising book sales held by many libraries. For a pittance, one receives a paper grocery bag and the license to fill it to overflowing with donations and library discards.

One sees things at these book sales which one won't see anywhere else, such as adults so desperate for the written word that they behave like animals. People line up just before the appointed sale time, wiggling and squirming like so many kindergarteners in need of a restroom. There is always a pro-forma caution from the people running the sale: Be careful. Don't run. There are plenty of books for everyone.

The caution is always ignored, of course. The instant the figurative starting shot is fired, it's a mob scene. Men with shaggy, graying hair bound for the science fiction table. Equally gray women, who one would expect better of, surround fiction and hobby tables with their sharp, pointy elbows poking out like cactus spines. They even block off the children's tables, an issue which has become so serious that some local libraries have a "children only" sale room.

I found Stitchery and Crafts at the hobby table of one of these sales at great risk to life and limb. It was impossible to actually browse the hobby table, of course, but there was a momentary gap between a couple of women sporting pearls and great sharp elbow spikes. Through the space I saw the word "crafts" and got an impression of age: a possible treasure? I threw myself at the book, clawed it off the pile, and threw it into my bag without inspecting it. Not a moment too soon, either: like a pair of hornets whose nest was under attack, the women immediately closed ranks and turned their elbows toward me.

When I found a safe place to look over my gleanings, I saw that I'd found quite a gem. It was a vintage crafts book published in 1966, the year before irony was invented. (After 1966, the counterculture becomes mainstream, Nixon comes back and the whole United States, at least, starts to go up in flames. The cultural innocence and lack of self-awareness went into the fire along with the rest.)

The projects were simultaneously awful and conveyed a sense of pride and optimism. There were mosaics made from seeds, tanned men with rolled-up sleeves painting still lives on cement, and sullen-looking children tying chunks of rope into animal shapes. There was an entire section of bazaar projects, all with colors and designs so abominable that they seared my retinas. There were piñatas, men with Winston wrinkles spray-painting foam balls, and suggestions for embellishing one's basic shift dress with fringe and giant flowers. This wasn't just a compendium of tacky projects and unintentional merriment, but a book of genuinely interesting craft information and a reflection of the times. It was a classic.

The projects, a sampling of which I'm including below, can speak for themselves. Should you want a copy of this book for yourself, try Amazon, eBay and other used book venues.

Onward to the projects:

"... and that, son, is where eggs come from."

Tall, chunky candles and an ashtray full of cigarettes make classy accompaniments for this colorful end table.

Just imagine! You can make this bird AND the handsome wall plaque with a cornstarch and salt-based modeling dough.

Is this even legal in most western countries?

Women's employment options were limited in those days. Hooking bees were no doubt a higher profit alternative to selling Avon.

Believe it or not, the wall hanging doesn't depict a poodle. It's a lion. A lion who has a thing for sniffing butterfly rumps.

"Timmy, if you don't stay away from your Christmas presents, the placemat boogie man will get you!"

I am very relieved to learn this, and no doubt millions of "Orientals" will be as well.

As awesome as this bedspread is, wouldn't it be even better if the pieces looked like tongues?

Here's a great idea: a pillow and a record cover which look virtually identical. That is, it's great until you sit on the album by mistake.

The aliens are going to be livid when they learn that their ship is being used for yarn storage.

"Wall breaks out in pustules of yarn! Film at eleven!"

Note the harvest gold hanging lamp. Those were a middle class decorating requirement during the sixties and seventies.

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