details
Here's the thing. You can write a really good novel -- beautiful prose, great characters, interesting and clever plot -- and still mess up.
Most people don't know very much about the fine points of carpentry, or papermaking, or deep sea fishing. I certainly don't. If I'm reading a novel in which one of these things shows up, I expect the author to have done some research and to get the details right. Will I know if the author is wrong about which tools you'd need to turn a table leg? No. But other people will, and those readers will be jolted out of the fictive trance. For them, the whole infrastructure of the novel has become wobbly.
In a book I'm reading now -- by an author I like, who tells a great story -- the main character has taken a room in a boarding house run by an elderly rural woman. The character observes closely. Wallpaper, beadboard, washbasin. Lots of good detail. Then he gets to embroidered lace curtains and a needlepoint bedspread. He examines the bedspread: handwork, took more than a year.
I want to point out again that I like this author and these stories. Havng said that: oh, no. No no no.
A character who doesn't know anything about needlework could be excused, but we are led to believe that this character does know what he's looking at. This is a guy who has a wide range of talents and interests, and up until now I've trusted him when he gives me his observations. But now my trust has been undermined, for a couple of reasons. You might have lace curtains. You might have embroidered curtains with lace edging or inset lace, but you don't embroider lace. A simple search would have provided the necessary details in under five minutes. antique lace curtains pulled up a website dedicated to this very topic topic with photos and descriptions (a linen panel with inset lace):
Homespun linen handmade figural lace panel or curtain circa 1800's
This is a homespun linen and handmade figural lace panel that appears to have been used as a curtain from the 1800’s, it was de-accessioned from a museum. This linen and lace panel measures 29 inches wide and 76 inches long including the fringe, all the stitching is done by hand. The lace shows figures of Elks and trees in a wrapped type of drawnwork. There is one hand darn, the piece is otherwise in very good condition.
Even worse is the idea of a needlepoint bedspread. Needlepoint is done on canvas. It is stiff. You'll find decorative needlepoint pillows, needlepoint chair covers, needlepoint pictures in frames, but a needlepoint bedspread? In seventeenth century Italy, on the bed of a prince, sure. Not in this day in age. The author almost certainly meant that the bedspread was embroidered, but throughout this part of the novel we get needlepoint, embroidery and cross-stitch used as though they were synonyms.
If this seems minor to you, substitute something you know about. Think about an author who repeatedly confuses boars, sows and gilts or boat and ship:
Ship: large craft in which persons and goods may be conveyed on water. In the U.S. Navy the term boat refers to any vessel that is small enough to be hoisted aboard a ship, and ship is used for any larger vessel; all submarines, no matter what size, are designated as boats, and ship-sized vessels are often referred to colloquially as boats (e.g. steamboats).
So I know a lot about needlework, and this mention of hand-embroidered lace and needlepoint bedspreads really stopped me, took me out of the story, and set me down in front of the computer to write this little diatribe. The moral: check your facts. You may still miss something once in a while, sure, but you will get fewer letters from irritated readers. And for the record: no, I'm not going to write to this author to wag a finger in his face.
I'm wagging it in your face instead. I hope you'll forgive me.