December 16, 2001|By Elizabeth Teachout | Elizabeth Teachout,Special to the Sun
Walk into my three-storied neighborhood book joint only at the risk of being struck blind by the glittering displays of Christmas books. From Truman Capote to Jimmy Carter to that pioneer of self-help, M. Scott Peck, there is no shortage of writers who have jumped at the chance to spin their versions of the meaning of Christmas. And -- at least if you're inclined to believe fulsome flap copy -- most of them run that microscopic gamut from "heart-warming" to "an instant classic."
Why is my slightly maudlin, Christmas-loving heart largely unwarmed? Not a toughie. It's hard to feel anything more than manipulated when someone is trying so unmistakably to pull at my heartstrings, not to mention my wallet. So what makes a not-so-instant TV classic like "A Charlie Brown Christmas" work?
For starters, it gets the ratio of silly to sentimental just right. Year after year, you're inexplicably caught unaware when Linus starts in with "There were shepherds in the fields." But an equally great part of its charm lies in its being heard instead of read, which makes an excellent case for sifting through the current run of books until you've struck gold and found one that's worth being read aloud.
One of the most publicized new holiday books is Jan Karon's The Mitford Snowmen (Viking, 32 pages, $10.95). Although fans of the novelist's popular Mitford series may feel shortchanged by the book's slender length, it's extremely well-suited to reading aloud. Karon's book (which reads like a "Northern Exposure" episode -- long on character and skimpy on plot) centers on a spur-of-the-moment snowman contest featuring the impressive prizes of "a snow shovel from th' hardware an' a dozen doughnuts from Winnie's."
The great strength of The Mitford Snowmen is in its understatement -- doubly surprising considering the author's tie-ins with Hallmark, a company not known for holiday-related restraint. Not only is this slim volume free of hugs, it remains wonderfully free of any miracle larger than doughnuts for all. It's hard not to respect a contemporary work of fiction whose biggest moral dilemma is a conversation between 5- year-olds regarding the ethical ins and outs of consuming a gingerbread and marzipan Nativity scene.
My own vote for the latest bonafide Christmas classic goes to Olive, the Other Reindeer, published in 1997 (Chronicle Books, 40 pages, $13.95). Judged by its cover, it could easily be the most self-conscious Christmas book of the decade, with authors J. otto Seibold and Vivian Walsh guilty not only of inconsistent name capitalization (a major felony in my, um, book) but such coy copy as, " J. otto draws all of the time. He draws on a computer, which makes him sort of like a scientist. But he doesn't wake up until noon, which makes him like an artist."
But wait, is this a forgivable offense? Yes, indeed, for Olive is a visually arresting book with an irresistible plot. (Its hipness credentials were confirmed when Matt Groening, creator of The Simpsons, chose to produce the animated version).
This is the story of Olive, a small dog with a fondness for Christmas carols, who, when she mishears a line in that song about Rudolph as "Olive, the other reindeer," takes it as a sign that she should head for the North Pole to be of assistance. Naturally, hijinks ensue, but lest you think Olive might be something less than a success as a reindeer, Santa does ultimately say, "Olive, won't you guide my sleigh this morning?"
Those inclined toward fantasy of a more elevated sort can look forward to spending happy evenings with J. R. R. Tolkien's Father Christmas Letters (Houghton Mifflin, 160 pages, $20). Tolkien began sending an intricately illustrated series of letters from Father Christmas to his own children in 1920, continuing for over two decades. Collected and edited by his daughter-in-law, Baillie Tolkien, they were first published in 1976.
Ostensibly tales of elves and polar bears and goblins, these letters actually offer a peek into the international political climate of those crowded years. This latest and most complete edition reproduces the beautifully drawn letters in Tolkien's spidery hand, along with their highly detailed envelopes.
For everyone else, let me be the one to tell you that the book your friends are secretly hoping to find under their tree this year is William Wegman's take on The Night Before Christmas (Hyperion Books for Children, 32 pages, $16). Although it may count as a guilty pleasure (at least for grownups), all but the most staunch cat fanciers should find the famous photographer's signature Weimaraners perfectly compelling dressed up as Santa and the reindeer, et al. Trot this one out to read aloud and watch kids of all ages come to blows over who gets the best seat.
