I took my Christmas book credit and spent a tiny bit of it on a Christmas book. In part, because I really like Scalzi and I enjoy rereading him. And also in part because I couldn't get at my other Christmas books this year, which I think left me rather lacking in seasonal cheer. It has been a season of pneumonia (the Spouse) and lethargy with a side of struggle.

For example, after quite a few years of use and storage (more than six, less than fourteen), after carefully cleaning them and reinserting the points that had dropped out, and frankly, after marveling that they had survived so well for so long, this year I managed to break the frames of both of my Moravian stars.

But now is the time of recovery and rest and lying about with a fully stocked refrigerator and many delicious baked goods (ummm, breakfast cake!) and nothing to do for an entire week but eat and read since the university shuts down our whole department from the 23rd through the 2nd.

Yes, so a bunch of short humorous pieces and one absolute tear jerker. It's a good mix. With pictures, too. More books should have pictures.

Usually I don't mark a book Beloved until I've read it at least twice and was delighted both times. In this case I had read all but the three new pieces previously, so I decided to go on and count that.

Personal copy 

This is my jam: Rhymed couplets about visitors to an Evil Garden being picked off, one at a time, with circumspect yet detailed illustrations. This is exactly the kind of thing I love as a Christmas present. I also received an Edward Gorey calendar to hang up at work. I really hope light verse makes a comeback one day.

In the spring I have been invited to come up and visit the Offspring at college and take her off to visit The Edward Gorey House museum. Other book-related tourist inducements: the Eric Carle museum, The Yiddish Book Center, Antonio's Pizza (from The Penderwicks!), the inflatable polar bear from Iver & Ellsworth, and numerous used book stores.

Yes, it would be a very simple thing to lead me into a trap.

Personal copy

Max is a fierce cat. Max is blue, which is never remarked upon. I am in favor of a world in which cats can go around being primary colors without comment.

Library copy

Gravett's work always delights me, and has again.

I love the art: Cyril and his friend look rather alike, that's a requirement for the whole plot. But they look believably alike: not just as if they had been drawn to look alike, but as if they really are.

I also love that Pat is never gendered.

And maybe it's just me, but I can't help noting that while I think of Cyril as an upper-class sort of name, Pat evokes Ireland and the stereotypes associated with Ireland in England. It doesn't matter if it's deliberate or pure accident or some combination of the two. The association makes the story visceral for me in a way picture books about squirrels usually don't.

Loved it.

Library copy.

A great little Chistmasy story, and a particular hit with the younger child.

***

Wow, I'm amazed that all the times I've read this, it's never before been in December. Probably because inexplicably I don't own a copy. This was the one on display that sucked me into the picture books. I really was only running into the library to return some things. But then nostalgia.

Library copy