“Mention the phrase ‘cable knitting’, and most people — knitters and non-knitters alike — envision textured ropes, twists, and braids winding up knitted fabrics. Typically, these cable patterns are vertically arranged, beginning at the lower edge, meandering though a knitted piece, and ending at the upper edge. (…) Do you know, however, that knitter can also create circular, closed-ring shapes with cables? Just imagine: curlicues, rings, swirls, knots — even intricate Celtic-inspired motifs — all richly embossed on knits! Unlike vertical cables, these patterns suddenly appear in the middle of a plain fabric and just as dramatically disappear. Along the way, they twist and turn, seemingly at will, forming either simple, or very intricate designs. Watching each row build on the one before is engaging, gratifying, and fun. ” —Continuous Cables, Melissa Leapman
This book, a follow-up to her previous Cables Untangled, takes the design principle of a cable that is embedded in the the knitting, like placing a motif, rather than started at the edge and cabled to the other end. Which isn’t to say that you won’t find examples of vertical cabled bands in the patterns, but it’s not the focus of the book. There are a wide range of patterns, from several afghans, sweaters, pillows, and place mats, to thickly cabled bags. There is a stitch dictionary at the back, and instructions for the basic cable stitches.
The only issue I have, and it’s very minor and a bit silly, is that the patterns themselves seem unnecessarily gendered. There is a section devoted solely to women’s clothing, and I do wonder why the author thought she needed to label them as such. There are other patterns, directed towards men if the photographs are any indication, and children’s sweaters (of course, the little girl’s sweater is in pink), but I wonder why the distinction? What makes a cable masculine or feminine? Or little-kid-ine? Having said that, to me it’s a pretty little quibble.
The only thing I see missing from this book, pattern wise, is a good cabled sock, but between the billion-and-a-half sock books I own, I reckon I have that one covered.