Kim Batchelor

Writer of magical realism and other imaginative fiction

Knitting Stories

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“Let me show you how it’s done,” the knitting woman said. She knitted a series of stitches before she came to a point where she slipped one stitch from the needle. While the single stitch sat untethered, she knitted the one just beyond it before slipping it back on the needle creating the twist in the fabric.

In a small shop on Inis Mór (also known as “Inishmore,” or ‘big island”), one of the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland, the woman showed me how to do the honeycomb stitch, a pattern I liked so much that I included it in a scarf I’m knitting. The difference between my knitting and hers is that when I’ve done similar cable stitches, I’ve relied upon a cable needle to hold those loose stitches in place. I prefer a hook that keeps any stitches from unraveling before I bring them back to the needle. This woman, a skilled practitioner, didn’t knit the piece too tightly to put the single stitch at risk. She had the confidence to simply let the stitch stay apart until it was time to bring it back into the design.

The Story Behind the Designs

The Aran Islands are known for their knitters. Anyone who appreciates a beautiful sweater know of the Aran designs. The women have traditionally designed sweaters unique to each of their families. The men of the family fish its rugged coastline. When one of those men does not return from a day of fishing because he’s been washed out to sea, he can be identified by the design of his sweater if his body washes on shore.

A Brush with the Famous

After I bought from the first knitter a cloth that described the meanings behind the different patterns, I went next door and met another knitter who talked non-stop while sorting through her sundry items. “I’d rather you knit your own sweater than buy one from me,” she told me when she heard that I had started knitting one that I’d left at home. Then she went on to describe the celebrities she’d met: Amy Adams and Stephen Spielberg, and Sharon Stone who was taller than the first two. All had bought the woman’s work, she said. She told me of rescuing two newborn baby lambs in brutally cold weather by slipping them inside her sweater, grateful that the ewe hadn’t given birth to triplets as she had before.

Designs of My Own

At a third shop, I bought yarn that left the feel of lanolin on my skin, two needles and a quick suggestion as to how to knit a hat. When I returned to the ferry, one of the drivers milling about before the next schedule trip thought it was funny I had purchased yarn there. “There aren’t any sheep on the island,” he told me. I just smiled, thinking about the woman, the ewe, the two lambs, and all the sheep I’d seen along the way. I continued to roll the thread into a ball and waited to begin the trip over the water to return me safely to the dry mainland.

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William Butler Yeats

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One writer most influenced the dreamscape of my youth—the Irish poet William Butler Yeats. I read his poems in assigned texts in my high school English class. I memorized two of them thanks to songs by folk singers Judy Collins—the poem “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”—and Donovan—“The Song of the Wandering Aengus.”

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

 

This poem always conjured up thoughts of a place in a clearing in the woods, a place of solitude and contemplation. Who can resist the lure of a small cabin and living ‘alone in a bee-loud glade’?

While Innisfree took me to a quiet cottage in the Irish countryside, “The Song of the Wandering Aengus” presented a mysterious story full of unusual and mystical images. According to Wikipedia, the Aengus (Old Irish: Oíngus, Óengus) is a character from Irish mythology who is a member of the Tuatha Dé Danann—a supernatural race. He is “probably a god of love, youth and poetic inspiration.”

I went out to the hazel wood,

Because a fire was in my head,

And cut and peeled a hazel wand,

And hooked a berry to a thread;

And when white moths were on the wing,

And moth-like stars were flickering out,

I dropped the berry in a stream

And caught a little silver trout.

 

The trout becomes a ‘glimmering girl,’ who calls him by name and runs, fading through “the brightening air.”

Though I am old with wandering

Through hollow lands and hilly lands,

I will find out where she has gone,

And kiss her lips and take her hands;

And walk among long dappled grass,

And pluck till time and times are done,

The silver apples of the moon,

The golden apples of the sun.

 

Two recent books brought Yeats back to mind for me. In the recent young adult novel, The Hazel Wood, by Melissa Albert, is the story of seventeen-year-old Alice Prosperpine, who finds out about her grandmother’s death while on the road with her mother. Her grandmother, a children’s book writer, lived on an estate called The Hazel Wood. When Alice’s mother is kidnapped and taken to a supernatural place where her grandmother’s dark fairy tales are set, Alice is left no choice but to search for her mother with the help of one of her grandmother’s avid readers.

The actor David Duchovny wrote his most recent novel, Miss Subways, based on an obscure play by Yeats that has its roots in the Ulster Cycle of Irish Mythology. In the play, “The Only Jealousy of Emer,” Emer falls in love with the warrior hero Cu Chulainn. When Cu Chulainn inadvertently kills his own son, Emer is presented with a cruel bargain by a faerie Sidhe. If Emer gives up Cu Chulainn and her hope of growing old with him, the Sidhe will let him live. Duchovny’s book, Emer is a 41-year-old school teacher and her writer boyfriend is Cuchilain, otherwise known as Con. The modern Emir is presented with a similar bargain as her ancient counterpart. The Sidhe in this retelling is a doorman, and the bargain is that if Emer gives up her dreams of a life with Con, who is at that moment flirting with another woman outside a restaurant, he will be spared the fate of being hit by a car. Decisions, decisions.

I have no doubt that Yeats helped to inspire my book, The Mists of Na Crainn, and the mystical place I’m often fantasizing about.

 

 

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Touching the Mourning Heart

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The Marys at the Sepulchre, Iran: Qajar, early 19th century. The Keir Collection of Islamic Arts

For a long time, I have been interested in stories rooted in the traditions of the Jewish people—from The Red Tent by Anita Diamant to The Dovekeepers by Alice Hoffman. I seldom talk about the novel I’m now working on that is part of the Christian tradition—a reimagining of the story of Mary the mother of Jesus. It is a novel I have been researching and drafting off and on for about ten years. I hope to complete it before year’s end. More about that novel later. In the process of researching it, I have discovered much about the historical, cultural, and economic context of first century Galilee. That research found its way into a dramatic reading about three women in mourning that I recently wrote. The reading debuted on Maundy Friday at my church.

A Story of Three Women in Jerusalem

For more than a year, I imagined a conversation between Mary and two other women—one well-known and one lesser-known. Most people—even those outside the Christian tradition—know of Mary Magdalene. Little is written about her in Biblical text but unfortunately she has been erroneously portrayed as a prostitute, including in the musical Jesus Christ Superstar. This occurred because her character has been conflated with other female characters. The third woman in this conversation is the Canaanite woman  (also known as the Syro-Phoenician woman). The Canaanite woman—who goes nameless—is a woman who came to Jesus to seek help for her daughter possessed by a demon and who, according to many, changed Jesus’s mind.

While several aspects of the conversation come from my imagination, I also incorporate little known information about real conditions during that time. Few people are aware, for example, that crucifixions were commonplace during several periods of that century. What would it be like to raise children around that violence, even if you didn’t know that someday that fate would befall your son? The elites in that society imposed steep taxes on those who depended on agriculture resulting in loss of land and severe social upheaval.

The narrative lends itself to the genre of “magical realism”—one I prefer to write in. Mary Magdalene suffered from demons until Jesus healed her and she joined the group traveling with and learning from him. She was the first witness to his resurrection. The Canaanite woman also sought out a healing from demons from her daughter. In the course of seeking help, she asked that her status as someone from outside the Hebrew people—in fact, her people were considered their enemy—be set aside so that her daughter could be freed of the torment of these demons. In the dramatic reading, the two women share their experiences with possession and celebrate being free of it.

Due to a beautiful rendition by three talented women, the evening was as powerful as I’d hoped it would be. What I did not anticipate is what the impact would be for two people in the audience. After the service ended, several people came up to me to share positive words. Then I saw the face of a friend, a mother who had lost her son the previous year. She embraced me as she wept. A similar emotion showed in her husband’s face as he walked by me.

I had never considered such an impact of the story I’d written . This brought up conflicting emotions for me. I felt gratified that it had conveyed what I had intended—how the tragedy of loss affects those who love a person who dies under violent and barbarous circumstances. I also worried about the pain that it caused two people who had lost a beloved child.

In a world in which suffering comes to us regularly via the media, it’s important to me to lift up the impact of violent deaths on the survivors. They don’t have the luxury of moving past it to the next event. They will never forget. This is why I write, but not without considering the impact of what I write.

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Madeleine L’Engle and a Wrinkle in Time

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This is not a book review because I have not yet read the book. This is not a movie review because I have not yet seen the movie. In spite of those oversights, for years, I have been fascinated by what I knew of the story of A Wrinkle in Time and the woman who wrote it, so much so that I included mention of it in two of my novels.

At the end of The Island of Lost Children, Wendy reads A Wrinkle in Time to her brothers. In Gem of the Starry Skies, Gwen considers it a favorite book and suggests it to Gabriel, her friend who is also a comic book creator. I was awed by the visually stunning trailers for Ava DuVernay’s film version and excited to hear that one of my favorite directors would be directing this movie version.

Spirit and Science

I was never assigned A Wrinkle in Time in school. I’m not sure why it did not end up on one of my required reading lists. Published in 1962, the book won a Newberry Award and it became writer Madeleine L’Engle’s most famous book. In her work, she merged her Christian faith with science, reconciling the pursuit of knowledge of the universe with the eternal mysteries of the universe. She possessed a generous view of her faith and was criticized by some for her belief that grace extends to all and not just a chosen few.

For an interesting interview with Madeleine L’Engle, go to this New Yorker article.

Advice for Writers

A Wrinkle in Time was considered “junior fiction” when published, and Madeleine L’Engle had advice for authors who write for children/young adults. In a New York Times Book Review interview, L’Engle said that the writer of a good children’s book may need to return to the “intuitive understanding of [his/her] own childhood.” Be childlike but not childish.

I connect most with is how she created stories merging the everyday with the fantastical, what we now call ‘magical realism.’ As anyone who reads my work knows, that style of writing is my favorite. For all these reasons, I look forward to seeing the movie and reading the book as quickly as I can, to see what a fascinating author has done and how a talented and visionary director brought that story to life.

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Meditating Stories

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As a writer, I tend to be a ‘pantser’ (“fly by the seat of my pants”) rather than a ‘plotter’ (relying on detailed outlines) when I write. Before participating in last November’s “National Novel Writing” (NaNoWriMo), though, I reversed course and created brief descriptions of a set of scenes ahead of time that I turned to when writing each day’s 1700 word installment.

My writing process each day usually begins with a short period of meditation. Resisting the impulses that strike at my mind—tasks that need to be done, places to go, people to see—helps me to empty my brain, to let the unexpected image or scene make an entrance. I realize the purpose of meditation is not accomplishment but mindfulness and relaxation. Still, I find it to be a useful tool to sometimes generate the unanticipated image that I use in my work.

One morning during NaNoWriMo, I sat down to meditate first. During the meditation, I experienced a peaceful scene of floating over fields of golden wheat, a light blue sky above me dotted with a few fluffy clouds and illuminated by a muted yellow sun. I let that scene carry me along for several minutes, feeling as if I were flying over a serene landscape. I returned to my pantser roots when that scene later made its way into my NaNoWriMo novel. A young woman with a disability that left her unable to walk soars in her imagination over a field where, unbeknownst to her, she accidentally bumps against the back of a young man working in that same field. In that moment, the paths of two of the four main characters—Angelique and Ash—cross for the very first time.

The great writer Pat Conroy once said that he couldn’t wait to get back to writing so he could “find out what [his] characters will do next.” I relate to that and have the same motivation that compels me to write. I find that a few moments of not deliberately imagining but letting my imagination take over allows stories to find their own way into my consciousness. Each day, after a brief period of meditation, I can’t wait to get back to where my mind guides me before I put a single word to page.

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