I was just a few chapters into my reading of Eli McCann’s debut novel, Stitched, when I paused and asked myself, “I wonder if my mother would like this book?”

I often pass on what I’ve read to my mother. Though only about one in seven pass the “Pass it on to My Mom” test. She’s well read, but I’ve learned to temper my pass-ons. One-in-seven odds probably say more about just how deviant my reading habits are compared to my mother’s … but here I am running off the rails already with my review of McCann’s charming and delightful book.

Stitched follows the exploits of a group of quilters, the Ogden Quilter’s Association (OQA), bent on winning the Simpton Family Quilting Extravaganza, with this year’s theme being, “I Wish I Knew How To Quilt You: Famous Forbidden Relationships.”

Their last several showings at the Simpton Family Quilting Extravaganza, better known as SFQE, had been a major disappointment, and the aging group’s confidence and general mood were reaching an all-time low.

This year’s SFQE is being held in nearby Smithfield, Utah, a possibly tactical, if not geographical, advantage for the OQA. The OQA is made up of a small but mighty group of older ladies who have been meeting religiously every Wednesday night to quilt, sew, gossip, eat, and bask in each other’s comfortable presence. Mostly comfortable. And they mostly try to live by the OQA oath that they quote out loud at the beginning of each of the Wednesday meetings:

We are the sisters of the Ogden Quilters Association. We vow each day to create beautifully, quilt mindfully, and warm the arms, legs, and hearts of all we meet.

The oath goes on declaring heartfelt values, promises, and to never lose courage. For a moment on a particular Wednesday at the beginning of the book the OQA’s oath is challenged. One of the members, Candace, concerned about the—let’s say—natural attrition of the elderly group, brings along two new members who are quickly sent into the back room so the existing ladies can discuss the propriety of adding new members who aren’t very old and not very old ladies.

“I don’t think there’s a rule around this,” Diane said. “It’s just something we’ve never thought to do before.”

“Why are we whispering?!” Alice yelled. “I can’t hear a damn thing!”

“This is silly,” Diane said, also no longer whispering. “This group could use a couple of flamboyant gay men. It might bring us a little fresh color we really need.”

“Are we supposed to pretend we can’t hear you,” Byron shouted from the other room to the women who ignored him.

Byron and Rob don’t even know how to quilt. But with reluctant determination and a particular skill on Byron’s part to “out-scandal any conversation,” the pair are quickly assimilated into the—sorry—tightknit group. The OQA oath is revised without dissent to reflect gender neutrality.

But oh, hell/heck, the stakes are escalating for the content OQA, because the SFQE competition is next spring, and they have to MAKE A QUILT. The steps are numerous and overwhelming: envision, design, choose fabric, arrange blocks, sew seams, and so on and so on, until the finished product can be entered, hung, and the hand-wringing can begin.

Our intrepid crew of quilters naturally stumbles into many tedious and debilitating roadblocks between quilt envision and quilt hanging. The least of which, outside of one member feeding a raccoon that’s terrorizing the neighborhood, is the meddling of the rival quilting gang in nearby Logan: The Logan Quilters Society (LQS). Headed by President Patricia Davies, the LQS has been a thorn in the OQA’s behind for years, and this year is no different. Byron, for one, cannot wait to meet Patricia Davies, “a woman who had been painted as a grade-A villain by the women of the OQA.”

“Why did the needle incident have to happen to someone as kind as Terry,” Lucy had said just the prior Wednesday, before muttering under her breath, “instead of Patricia Davies.”

“I’d like to see ol’ Patty’s face have a needle incident,” Leera mumbled without even looking up from her sewing machine.

Ah yes, the infamous needle incident. Less said about this the better. Let’s move on.

Like in all long-term relationships the OQA members harbor a few minor and not-so-minor grievances between themselves, and these are some of the impediments they face on their quest for SFQE glory and their shaky interpretation of the “I Wish I Knew How To Quilt You” them.

Through it all, it may not be the quilting or the competition that draws them together. It could be something a little deeper that the group reluctantly cares to admit. The hard-earned friendship.

“Maybe I’m just not really as cut out for this as some others,” Lucy said, shrugging her shoulders a bit. “And don’t get me wrong, I love the competition and I will definitely cry on the drive home. But quilting has never been the reason I show up on Wednesday nights—just the excuse.”

There it is. And that’s enough.

I don’t know if I have ever intentionally read, what in the publishing world is called, a “cozy” book, but that is precisely what Stitched is. Slippers. Hot cocoa. Fire crackling. Jammed up in your favorite flannel jam-jams. Oh, and of course, wrapped in a soft stitched blanket. Preferably one that your mom and hopefully some of her friends made. Which I have. Y’all don’t even know all the cozy feels this book so happily gave me. It is a once-in-a-blue-moon feel-good experience not to be missed in our harried-world today. Get some cocoa. And yes, absolutely pass this one on to your mother.

Larry Menlove

Larry Menlove’s short fiction and essays are published in numerous venues. His debut novel, Rush, will be available in November from Shotgun Honey Books.