Lester’s Dreadful Sweaters is the sort of book that’s hard to classify. Can a book be macabre when it’s all about, you know, dreadful sweaters? Can being a curiously speedy knitter be menacing? Can a children’s story about clothing be creepy?
Possibly, yes. Imagine a boy slightly reminiscent of Sheldon from “The Big Bang Theory.” Imagine an indeterminate cousin Clara who may well be Ralphie’s aunt of the same name from “A Christmas Story”, given the sort of gifts she delights in giving. Now, picture what happens when she moves in with Lester’s family and has (apparently) nothing to do but knit. Throw in abundant alliteration and a bit of a Tim Burton-y feel, and voila! Lester’s Dreadful Sweaters. If the ending were different, it could be a children’s horror story; as it is, it truly is delightful.
Put another way? I put it on hold at my sister’s library in Colorado so that her family could enjoy it.
Her youngest is 12.