Pip Rejects Hibernation for a Talking Tree in The Christmas Cub

Over the years, I have read dozens of Christmas books, and I have noticed that a few particular types of stories keep popping up again and again. The Little Drummer Boy. A Christmas Carol. A Visit from St. Nicholas. Books about snowmen. Books about a character’s first Christmas, usually focusing on an animal, often one that ought to be hibernating. Fitting right into this last group of stories is The Christmas Cub, a Level 2 Hello Reader! book designed to be read by children from kindergarten to second grade.

Justine Korman Fontes writes this simple story that treads familiar ground as a bear cub named Pip obeys his curiosity instead of his mother’s lethargic instructions to stay in his cave for the winter. What he discovers is a cabin containing a small family much like the Ingalls family in Little House in the Big Woods. Pip observes the people intently while Evergreen, a cheerful talking tree growing outside the cabin, explains to the bear what is going on.

Children’s literature is so full of talking animals that I always accept them without question. But talking trees is another matter. This is not the only Christmas book I’ve read to give a tree a personality, but it’s usually more organic; we get the tree’s feelings, but it doesn’t speak, and there’s maybe just a hint of a smile or a frown in the arrangement of the branches. Here, the tree chatters on amicably and always has a pleasant smile and rosy cheeks. What’s more, that expression is plastered on a smooth green spot toward the top of the tree that makes it look very phony indeed.

There’s also the matter of the bear’s parents, who issue one feeble warning to stay in the cave and then immediately fall asleep, never to be seen again. Sleepy parents are a recurring theme in many books of this type, but Pip’s mom and dad just check out completely. Then there’s the gift that Pip decides to give the tree. It’s a cute idea resulting in a vibrant picture, but it makes no scientific sense whatsoever. Then again, what do I expect from a book with talking trees? Speaking of which, this book credits Pip with the invention of the first Christmas tree, when they had been in use in various places since the 1500s, well before the setting of this story.

While I can’t help being a little weirded out by the beatifically grinning tree, Lucinda McQueen’s illustrations are otherwise fairly endearing. The creatures are about halfway between cartoonish and realistic, with the chipper gray squirrel my favorite of the background animals. I like Fontes’ dedication to her illustrator: “For Lulu, who draws the purr as well as the fur.” McQueen definitely succeeds in bringing across a general feeling of contentment.

The Christmas Cub is fairly cute, and most children in this age group should find it a manageable read. But given the wealth of “first Christmas” books out there, this is hardly the first in the category that I would recommend.