Santa Finds Some Unexpected Helpers in Oh, What a Christmas!

In Jerry Pallotta’s Who Will Guide My Sleigh Tonight? Santa runs through all sorts of trials with different animals before settling on the perfect creatures to pull his sleigh. In the more recent picture book Oh, What a Christmas!, Michael Garland posits a scenario in which Santa already knows which animals work best but must resort to using different species due to an accident.

Garland is a longtime illustrator, and it is his lavish artwork that drives this silly but sweet tale. The story is told with simple narration in a couple of paragraphs per page. Particularly noteworthy phrases like “BIG, FAT, JOLLY RED SKYROCKET” and onomatopoeia like “THUD! STOMP! THWACK!” jump out at the reader in extra-large print and capital letters. Santa speaks from time to time, usually peppering his dialogue with “ho”s, but the reindeer are silent, as are the animals that come into the story soon afterward.

The book consists mostly of full-page illustrations and two-page spreads filled with vibrant colors and intricate shading. The tale begins with Santa and his reindeer embarking on their Christmas Eve ride, only to have a straightforward night thwarted when the harness breaks, causing the deer to be separated from Santa and the sleigh to crash. Santa lands near a barn, and it is there that he finds his replacements: two sheep, two cows, a horse, a pig, a goat and a hound dog. The main fun of the story is seeing these ordinary animals in the extraordinary situation of guiding Santa’s sleigh.

The animals have a fairly realistic look to them while still being slightly cartoonish, particularly in their eyes, which are large and white with small black pupils, each with a pinprick of light in it. Santa, too, has such eyes, along with rosy cheeks and a bulbous nose. His beard and mustache are silky white, and his suit looks quite cozy. Santa is very jolly-looking, while the animals spend much of their time looking gently confused. Some of the facial expressions are quite comical.

As stories go, this one isn’t too complicated, but it is sweet, since it allows a ragtag team of farm animals to do something amazing and to help Santa out of a jam. There’s a general sense of goodwill about the tale and a warm glow in several of the illustrations that would feel at home in a Thomas Kinkade painting. For young children who enjoy animals, this book offers a fun twist on a Christmas tradition.

Santa Conducts an Experiment in Generosity in The Small Town Children's Christmas

One of my favorite Christmas specials is The Year Without a Santa Claus, the Rankin-Bass classic that introduced the Snow and Heat Misers, whose dueling song would become a Christmas station staple. In that movie, Santa decides to call off Christmas because he is feeling unappreciated. In The Small Town Children’s Christmas, written by Patrick K. Hallinan, his reasons for deciding against his annual flight are a bit less self-involved. His chief concern is that children have become too greedy and fail to understand the joy of giving.

Hallinan spins his story in verse, mostly four or eight lines at a time. The format is inconsistent, with some parts following an ABCB format and others embracing AABB; while I find that a bit distracting, the rhyme is generally done well, and the rhythm is usually spot-on. He does not capitalize the first letter in a line unless that letter would be capitalized in the normal course of a sentence. This gives the book a slightly less clean look than many of this type, but it also helps to increase the focus on the individual sentences instead of the verses. That’s probably a good thing, though occasionally, portions of the story seem to have been written mainly for the sake of rhyme. I imagine the book would have been a bit less long-winded if the writing style had been prose.

Questions of style set aside, it’s a pretty good story. Santa is not simply giving up on the children of Earth. He’s hoping that his failure to show up will stir them into some sort of positive action, and that does come about through the efforts of one youngster, a lad named Paul who lives in poverty and has only one prized possession. He seems more in touch with the joy of the season than anyone, and while all of the children are on their best behavior, with him, it isn’t simply because he wants something out of it. His response to the lack of presents galvanizes the others; this mild-mannered kid seems like a natural-born leader. The conclusion reminds me of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, one of my all-time favorite Christmas tales.

The illustrations are cartoonish, and all of the characters have faces with a pinkish tone to them. Most of the kids have a rather general look to them, but Paul is more distinct with his scraggly brown hair and the red ball cap he always wears. Santa is the only adult human in the book, so we don’t know what sort of effect all this is having on the grown-ups in Small Town or elsewhere. All we see is the reaction of the children, but the verse suggests that their generous spirits have an impact upon people of all ages.

I can’t put my finger on just why, but something about this book feels rather generic to me. Nonetheless, The Small Town Children’s Christmas is a story that applauds selfless giving, and that is a virtue worth celebrating. If you fear your kids may be in danger of excessive greed as Christmas approaches, perhaps this book might serve as a gentle reminder that it is better to give than to receive.

The Night Before Christmas Caps Mary Travers' Legendary Recording Career

Few poems have captured so many imaginations as Clement C. Moore’s A Visit From St. Nicholas. Nearly two centuries after its first publication, it remains ever-popular, particularly in the realm of picture books. Last year saw the release of The Night Before Christmas, a lavish Imagine Publishing book with paintings by Eric Puybaret and a three-track CD by Peter, Paul and Mary. Indeed, this bonus album – particularly the second track – appears to have been the main reason for this edition.

I received the book for Christmas last year, but I heard about it earlier in December when Peter Yarrow and Noel Paul Stookey were making the morning show circuit talking about the book, which they dedicated to Mary Travers, who died in 2009 of complications from leukemia. While the first and third tracks on the CD are, as best as I can determine, gleaned from the trio’s live Holiday Celebration concert in the 1980s, the second track features Mary reading the story, with background music added later by Peter and Paul. It was her final recording, making this a very special keepsake for Peter, Paul and Mary fans.

I’m certainly one of those, having been introduced to the group by an aunt determined to make an enthusiast out of me. At least, that was the first I recall being specifically aware of them as a trio, though I know I first heard Puff the Magic Dragon as a toddler, and while I might have been mostly familiar with kiddie versions, I find it hard to believe I made it to the age of eight without hearing their original rendition. In any case, could the gal who loved the soothing harmonies and intricate lyrics of Simon and Garfunkel fail to fall for the grassroots power and vocal majesty of Peter, Paul and Mary? It was only a matter of time.

In Mary’s recording, her voice teeters on faint; it’s plain that she is not as robust as she once was. Nonetheless, her reading sparkles with warmth and enthusiasm, and the playful background vocalizations of her old friends are an affectionate tribute to their bond. In the first track, Paul sings the song to guitar accompaniment, filling the melody he co-composed with expressive nuances. He sings with such laughter in his voice that smiling along is practically inevitable. The third track is A-Soalin’, a complex acoustic song about carolers singing for their supper. It doesn’t have a very direct connection to the book, but it is a harmonious song of Christmas cheer, and it also happens to mention the names Peter and Paul.

Obviously, this edition is of particular interest to fans of this iconic folk trio, but it’s an excellent find for anyone looking for a handsome copy of the poem for the family library. The paintings are vibrant, with rich yellows, deep reds and a hushed bluish-white blanket of snow surrounding the house in which St. Nicholas makes his grand appearance. Unusual elements include the verdant robes the reindeer wear, the creative and seemingly homemade toys found throughout the house and the tiny, luminescent fairies who flit through the living room as St. Nick leaves his gifts. The poem is entirely intact, and this is about as straightforward a version as you are likely to find. I was a bit surprised that the narrator drops out of the illustrations after throwing up the sash in his room, but this leaves more room to zero in on the character kids are most interested in.

If you don’t have a picture book version of Moore’s poem in your home, consider getting this one. If, like me, you’ve encountered multiple versions and have a tough time deciding on a favorite, you’ll definitely want to add this one into the consideration. Imagine Publishing’s The Night Before Christmas is a timeless edition of a classic tale and a last labor of love for a trio whose output spanned half a century and whose influence will go on much longer.

Torontonians Find Joy in a Depression-Era Christmas in Booky and the Secret Santa

This week, while browsing Netflix, I came upon the Booky series of TV movies based upon the books by Bernice Thurman Hunter. I watched the last one first, then proceeded to Booky and the Secret Santa, which came out in 2007. The children in this G-rated slice of historical fiction directed by Peter Moss are noticeably a bit younger, but they look mostly the same, and whatever characters are in both movies are portrayed by the same actors. This movie is set in December, and I presume it’s supposed to be about nine months before Booky’s Crush.

While times are lean in Booky’s Crush, the sense of monetary crisis is even more acute in Booky and the Secret Santa. Toronto is teetering on the brink of Depression, and Thomas Thomson (Stuart Hughes), a hardworking harness maker, is out of a job as the company employing him switches over to using motorized vehicles. That’s bad news for the whole family, especially his daughter Booky (Rachel Marcus), whose best friend Laura Westover (Emilia McCarthy) is the daughter of a woman one character describes as a “social-climbing nobody.” Uppity Mrs. Westover (Nahanni Johnstone) doesn’t want her daughter hanging around with a girl whose family is practically impoverished. All Booky wants is the freedom to enjoy her friend’s company and enough money to make a nice Christmas like those to which she is accustomed.

I found the class dynamics at play in this movie interesting, and I love the Christmassy setting. It often seems to be the case that remarkable things occur around Christmas, and that’s what Booky is hoping will happen here. Unlike her practical teenage sister Willa (Sarah White) and angsty older brother Arthur (Dylan Everett), Booky has not yet entirely let go of the possibility that Santa Claus could exist. She doesn’t believe in him with the fervor displayed by her little brother Jakey (Noah Ryan Scott), who is desperate for a red trike, but she still thinks he might be out there somewhere. In fact, he might be living among her friends and neighbors, and they don’t even know it.

The most dynamic side character this time around is Mrs. Westover, who comes across as incredibly shallow and persnickety. One of the chief questions of the movie is whether she is capable of genuine friendship or whether every friendly gesture she makes is merely a means to an end. Silent sparks fly when she and Booky’s mother Francie, a spunky woman played by Megan Follows of Anne of Green Gables fame, are in the same room. Through the adults, we see the struggles that typified the late 1920s and early 1930s, while the children, particularly Booky and Laura, demonstrate the joy and hope that the season can bring even in the darkest times.

Johnstone is exquisitely annoying in her role, but the best addition to the cast this time around is Kenneth Welsh as Mr. Eaton, the kindly owner of one of Canada’s most prominent retailers. He and Booky, whom he affectionately calls “Little Bluebird” because of her vibrant winter coat, forge a friendship after she gets a job distributing nut samples outside her aunt’s store. He is a regular customer, and he finds her cheerful and inquisitive nature a delight. Booky, inspired in part by a comic book about a detective with a dual identity, begins to wonder if her elderly friend with the twinkle in his eye could actually be Santa. And if he is, might he be able to help the Thomsons have a merry Christmas after all? Walsh is wonderful in the role, especially whenever he lets loose with a rumbly laugh that sounds suspiciously like a “Ho ho ho,” and he and Marcus have quite a sweet rapport.

While the time period matters in Booky’s Crush, I would say that it’s even more significant in this movie, which shows more broadly the effects of the economic downturn as well as the creative ways that people dealt with it. Some of the Christmassy aspects of the film are most endearing. My favorite seasonal moment comes when a neighbor girl comes by, pulled on a makeshift sleigh hitched up to several children tied together and sporting twig-antlers on their heads. It just goes to show that you don’t need a lot of money or fancy gadgets to have a good time.

While I loved Booky’s Crush, I think I enjoyed Booky and the Secret Santa even more. Although one would be most inclined to watch it near Christmas, this story of friendship and optimism makes for great viewing any time of year.

Santa Does Not Find Imitation Very Flattering in One Thousand Christmas Beards

A couple years ago, I discovered the Beach Boys song Santa’s Beard, in which a boy recounts a rather traumatic experience taking his little brother to meet Santa. The curious tyke tugs on the jolly old elf’s beard, and it comes right off in his hands. Needless to say, the result is something akin to the classic Norman Rockwell painting in which a shocked lad holds up a Santa suit he discovered in a drawer. The suit and the beard make the counterfeit Santa. The illusion isn’t too tricky to pull off, but neither is the unmasking.

In Roger Duvoisin’s 1955 picture book One Thousand Christmas Beards, Santa has had enough of all the impersonations. They really get his dander up, and one year he decides that ranting to Mrs. Claus isn’t enough. He’s going to take matters into his own hands and rid the world of all these extra Santas. He wants to be able to say, to take a page out of Tigger’s book, “The most wonderful thing about Santas is I’m the only one!” His strategy? Travel extensively and yank the beards off of every Santa he sees.

This book is five and a half decades old, and it looks it. The illustration style is a mix of sketchy black and white drawings and drab color pictures that mostly incorporate red and green. Aside from the first two pages, which are fairly text-heavy, most pages only have a sentence or two, and it’s presented in a sort of free verse form. Most of the lines are fairly short, and some are pretty poetic, particularly as Devoisin describes the situations of the various Santas, most of whom are engaged in public services while dressed in their disguises. I think my favorite is the sandwich man Santa, “who was so thin / his red suit hung on him / like a flag on a pole on a windless day.”

Santa Claus is a character known for his kindness and generous spirit, and this shines through in virtually every book and Christmas special that features him. Every once in a while, though, Santa is portrayed as a real grouch. Rankin and Bass have portrayed him this way a couple of times. In The Year Without a Santa Claus, he is ornery and self-indulgent, and in Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer he’s just plain rude. Both times, he comes around, but it’s a little jarring to see him behave that way, and that’s the case here as well. He comes across as an egotistical crank, and only a stern talking-to from the Mrs. is sufficient to show him the error of his ways

This is a nostalgic book that offers a peek at Christmas of the 1950s. Some parts of it are indeed outdated, like the shoeshine man on the corner or the idea of buying a doll for a quarter. But I hope the most outdated idea of all is the thought that Santa would fly into a rage over some ordinary Schmoes just looking to spread a little Christmas cheer. The situation is milked for humor, and in an entertaining touch, the man so aggravated by imitation happens to have a pet parrot. This is a cute and quirky tale, but really, Santa ought to know better.

Maggie Goes Looking for Santa Claus on a Flying Cow

There are plenty of stories about flying reindeer, but in Looking for Santa Claus, a quaint picture book by Henrik Drescher, we spend most of a book with a flying cow. Blossom lives with a little family that consists of a girl named Maggie and her ornery aunts, who treat their niece much like Cinderella. It’s a dreary life, so when Blossom offers an escape via a trip to find Santa Claus, Maggie readily agrees, and an adventure begins.

Looking for Santa Claus is a curious book that calls to mind the old nursery rhyme about the cow jumping over the moon. Blossom, with Maggie on her back, traverses the globe, flying overhead and occasionally pulling off daring rescues. They meet three different men who look like Santa, but they all have different names, hinting at the fact that Santa is known throughout the world, but he sometimes has different characteristics.

One of the most interesting pictures in the book depicts the world at a glance, with different people, animals and landmarks scattered throughout the continents. There are quite a few different pictures, and it’s fun to try to match up each drawing with the country it is supposed to represent. In terms of pure geography, it’s not particularly accurate, but it’s a very engaging illustration that captures the diversity of the world. Generally speaking, I find Drescher’s illustration style to be surrealistic, and while they don’t entirely capture my imagination, the pictures do seem suited to the mysterious nature of the journey.

The book is written in a simple manner, with usually just one sentence per page. The pictures tell most of the story, giving us the personalities of the Russian, Swiss and Egyptian Santas, along with Maggie’s aunts, who undergo an intriguing transition between the beginning and end of the story.

One odd illustration show gifts being tossed down the chimney to land in the fireplace around which several characters are gathered. The fire is lit, so you would think that the presents would be singed at best, and a house fire wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility. Additionally, while the implication is that all the men who Maggie meets on her journey serve a Santa role, all three are present when Santa Claus soars across the sky with his reindeer, which makes it a bit unclear just what role they play. Perhaps the idea is just that they are kind men who are ideally suited to interact with Maggie’s aunts.

Looking for Santa Claus is a strange but rather soothing book that invites readers to imagine what they might find if they went for a ride around the world. While I find most of the story a little less engaging than I would hope, I like the multi-cultural overtones and the emphasis on forgiveness, and I wouldn’t mind taking a ride on a flying cow myself.

Bob and Larry Tell a Fascinating Tale of Saint Nicholas

I love the VeggieTales computer-animated video series, and usually when the latest video comes out, I’m right on top of getting it. But somehow, last year’s Saint Nicholas: A Story of Joyful Giving fell by the wayside last year, and it’s only now that I’ve finally seen the third VeggieTales Christmas release. I am now free to declare It incredibly entertaining, not to mention educational.

Like The Toy That Saved Christmas, the first Veggie Christmas video, Saint Nicholas lacks a countertop scene and takes place in a small town where all of our characters are simply themselves. It’s Christmas Eve, and this special opens much the same way as that one did – with hyperactive children eagerly anticipating the stuff they will get when the big day arrives. Chief among them is Junior Asparagus, who is extra excited because his grandparents have given him money to buy himself something. Oh, the decisions! Meanwhile, Laura Carrot is down because her dad, a deliveryman, has a busted truck, which means he can’t finish his route before Christmas and can’t get a Christmas tree either. The Christmas Eve service at the nearby church is about to begin, but before it does, Bob the Tomato decides that now would be a good time to tell Junior, Laura and all the other children with Christmas on the brain just what Santa Claus has to do with Jesus.

Bob and Larry the Cucumber are more involved narrators here than in most Veggie videos. We see them inside the story, even occasionally interacting with the characters, and what’s more, Larry has an endearingly annoying habit of constantly interrupting Bob in order to “move the story along” – even though he has no idea where the story is going – and make the setting more Christmassy. Bob is telling the story of Saint Nicholas, and if he had the narration to himself, Greece – to which we get a great introduction in my favorite of the video’s songs – would be appropriately balmy, but Larry can’t resist adding a little snow, and that’s just one of his amusing embellishments. While there are many elements to this story that stray far afield from Nicholas’s established history, the basics are there, and if Junior and his friends are any indication, that’s still a lot more than most kids would be familiar with.

A new character, a burly fellow with a thick accent who looks to be some type of squash, appears in both the modern portion of the story and the ancient one as an antagonistic figure. Nicholas is an entirely new character too, as is his father. The only major characters, aside from the narrating Bob and Larry, to be incorporated into the story are Petunia as a nun who teaches Nicholas about the joy of giving and Mr. Lunt – also the star of the Silly Song (or, rather, Helpful Humanitarian Song) – as Octavius, a close friend of Nicholas’s family who later helps Nicholas in his efforts to secretly distribute money to a needy family. Inventing a local bully intent on preventing such acts of generosity ups the action factor and the need for secrecy and allows for more intense and humorous moments. For instance, Nicholas feels the need to disguise himself, so he and Octavius go out in a series of amusing costumes. Later, as Nick is making an escape after his last big act of kindness, his sheep-drawn vehicle stretches across the sky so that they are silhouetted against the moon and look just like Santa and his reindeer.

Larry is the voice of all of Christmas’s contemporary trappings throughout the video. While the kids pipe up with their ideas of what Christmas is all about, Larry keeps trying to find ways of tying Nicholas more directly to Santa and of trying to make the setting of his story feel more festive. That’s how we end up with Christmas lights adorning several ancient Grecian residences, and it may also account for the parade of classic Christmas songs that turn up here with new lyrics. Some of Larry’s speculations are just plain hilarious, and I love the cozy reindeer sweater that he sports for a large portion of the video. I also love the way Bob sneaks in one of my favorite lines from The Toy That Saved Christmas.

This is a video that acknowledges that even devout Christian kids tend to get really worked up about Santa Claus. Saint Nicholas isn’t about trying to excise Santa from Christmas altogether, but it does make two major points: that Christmas is, first and foremost, about Christ, and that Saint Nicholas was a model of the sort of generosity that Christians should feel called to exhibit, and not just at Christmas. As the video’s loveliest song says, we should give not in an effort to feel good about ourselves but because we feel happy already and want to share our blessings with others. One thing I noticed is that Jesus comes up in this video far more than any other. I’m pretty sure that even includes An Easter Carol. Most of the Veggie videos talk about God a fair bit, but few of them mention Jesus. Hence, although in some ways this is one of the silliest Veggie videos I’ve seen, it’s also one of the most spiritually grounded.

Saint Nicholas is a great video that embraces both the serious and fun side of Christmas. It introduces some terrific new characters and incorporates several underused characters from videos past, including little Annie, a soft-spoken, bespectacled leek who, of all the VeggieTales characters, reminds me most of myself. I’m sure that this is one that I’ll be pulling out again in Christmasses to come. I’m only sorry it took me this long to watch it!

Reindeer Puzzle Over Santa's Absence in What Could Be Keeping Santa?

In most Christmas picture books, it’s the children around the world who wait impatiently for Santa’s arrival, but in Marilyn Janovitz’s adorable What Could Be Keeping Santa?, his reindeer are the ones aquiver with anxious anticipation. They know that they have a job to do, but Santa Claus seems to have forgotten. None of them can imagine what could possibly keep the jolly old elf from setting off on his yearly journey on time.

Janovitz tells her story in four-line stanzas, with the first three lines rhyming and the fourth some variation on “What could be keeping Santa?” The print is large, and most of the pages only feature one or two lines. The rhyme and rhythm works very well, particularly toward the beginning of the book, in which she describes all of the indications that the time has come for Santa to set out. Oddly, she shifts tenses toward the end of the book, suddenly writing in past tense, and I find this a bit jarring, but otherwise, the book is written well, and the ultimate answer to their question is amusing.

While the narration is charming, the illustrations are what really capture the imagination. Janovitz introduces us to eight identical reindeer, all of whom walk upright. Indeed, they seem to have more in common with humans than most reindeer in Santa stories; they don’t even live in a stable. Instead, a two-page spread depicts them all dozing off under a blanket in a bed designed for eight.

Janovitz’s vision of the North Pole is quite humble. Instead of a magnificent palace, Santa lives in a little shack, and his workshop isn’t much bigger. Since we never see Mrs. Claus or any elves, it isn’t clear whether they are part of Janovitz’s vision or if we’re meant to think that Santa makes all of the toys himself, perhaps with some help from his very anthropomorphic reindeer.

Her pictures, which are spread across two pages, are done in watercolor and colored pencil, giving them a very soft, almost pastel appearance. The reindeer have rosy cheeks and simple facial structure that makes them reminiscent of teddy bears, differentiated from them primarily by their hooves and the antlers on their heads. Their concerned expressions throughout the book are quite endearing.

What Could Be Keeping Santa? is clearly written with very young readers in mind, so this book probably wouldn’t be a great choice for kids much beyond first grade, but for tiny tots, this reindeer tale is a winner.

Santa Seems To Have Been a Little Mixed Up in The Merry Christmas Mystery

I’ve read several Christmas books featuring Winnie the Pooh, and one thing you can always count on in these stories is that the rumbly in the tumbly of the Silly Old Bear will be satisfied with a pot of honey, either from Santa Claus or from a generous friend. But in The Merry Christmas Mystery, written by Betty Birney and illustrated by Nancy Stevenson, it looks like Pooh may have to wait a while for his favorite treat. Instead of honey, Santa brings him... thistles. Is the Jolly Old Elf implying that Pooh should diversify his tastes? Might thistles complement his efforts in his morning stoutness exercises? Or is something else at play here?

Last year, I read Alexander Steffensmeier’s Millie in the Snow, a picture book about a cow who must trek home in the midst of a blizzard, carrying gifts for the folks back at the farm. The outcome of that cow tale reminded me very much of The Merry Christmas Mystery, which was one of the first in my collection of Pooh books that now includes more than a hundred volumes. I received it for Christmas, and the vibrant Golden Look-Look Book was a perfect fit for me, but in this story, a perfect fit is hard to come by. Everybody in the Hundred-Acre Wood seems to have received a gift that doesn’t make much sense.

Pooh and his thistles is only the beginning. Piglet arrives on the scene in a winter coat so big that he can scarcely walk. Rabbit shows off tiny red earmuffs that barely cover the tips of his ears. What’s a Tigger to do with a pot full of honey when it’s common knowledge that Tiggers hate honey? And what could Santa have been thinking when he gave Eeyore that peculiar coat rack? Nobody’s too sure, but the nice thing is that while general puzzlement abounds, nobody is complaining. “It was nice of Santa to think of me” becomes the familiar, polite refrain. And then, as more and more residents come together for the annual decoration of the grandest pine in the forest, they begin to share...

By the end of the book, the woodland friends manage to crack the mystery behind their unusual gifts; it’s a simple solution, though I wonder how many children would guess it ahead of time, since it involves an object that I don’t recall seeing in any other Pooh stories. I think the first time I read it, my hunch was that Santa - or perhaps Christopher Robin - just wanted to give these friends of modest means an opportunity to exchange gifts with each other. That’s the result, anyway, making this an especially sweet Pooh story.

The writing style is typical for a Disney Pooh book, and each of the characters acts and talks naturally. I love the detailed, full-color illustrations, which feature so many of these beloved characters in the pristine, snowy setting. I’m a little curious as to why Roo turns up so much earlier than Kanga, who doesn’t seem to have gotten a mixed-up present, and it’s a shame that Gopher doesn’t show up at all, but as a pure Disney invention, he does tend to make his way into fewer books than most. Everybody else is here, and it’s one very happy crew sure to spread merriment to any youngster longing for a sojourn in the Hundred-Acre Wood.

Carly Simon Encourages Music-Making in The Boy of the Bells

I’m very familiar with Carly Simon as a singer-songwriter, but it wasn’t until recently that I discovered that she has also written children’s books. One of them is The Boy of the Bells, a charming story set in the far north town of Noel. The village is so far north, in fact, that it is the first stop on Santa’s annual trek, and it is the task of the local bell ringer to signal midnight, the time for the journey to begin.

Ben is a young boy whose grandfather usually has that job, but this year, Grandfather Juniper’s mind is on other things. Ben’s sister, Miranda, has stopped speaking. It’s been months since anyone heard a peep out of her. The situation has him so upset that he asks Ben to do his job for him. Though he is proud and excited to have been given such an important job, Ben worries about Miranda as well and misses their conversations. Hence, he decides to use his position to summon Santa early and see if he can suggest anything that might help her.

Simon’s prose has a lyrical quality to it, particularly when she describes the dreams of the villagers on the night before Christmas. Embedded in the story are lessons about responsibility and musicianship; it should probably come as no surprise that a woman who has made a career out of music would make a voice and musical instruments the focal points of her story. The “make your own kind of music” theme plays out especially well.

Speaking of that Cass Elliot song, I couldn’t help thinking of LOST as I finished reading this book. That’s because it introduces a major oddity and never explains it. Why did Miranda suddenly lose her voice? Santa tells Ben, “I can’t always tell you why some things happen the way they do. There are many mysteries in the universe.” This seems like a line from Across the Sea, the much-reviled episode that attempts to answer several of the show’s remaining questions but ultimately introduces just as many. For the most part, those hoping for concrete answers came away disappointed, and I suspect that may be the case in this book as well.

However, even though she doesn’t tell us what happened to Miranda to make her stop speaking, Simon weaves an endearing tale of sibling love and creative expression. Additionally, each of the women dedicates the book to her son and his grandfathers, accentuating the sense of family connection within its pages. Margo Datz’s illustrations have a Scandinavian flavor to them, and the full-page paintings, framed with wooden borders, are filled with details that give readers a very strong sense of place, particularly with the clothing that the characters wear.

Unexplained afflictions aside, The Boy of the Bells is a well-crafted book that recognizes the beauty of music and family, and I look forward to reading Simon’s other forays into children’s literature.

Have a Moo-ey Christmas With Santa Cows

I’ve read many books modeled after Clement C. Moore’s classic poem, A Visit From St. Nicholas. One of the strangest is Santa Cows, a story about a family who receives an unexpected visit from an octet of magical bovines. I’m not sure what inspired author Cooper Edens and illustrator Daniel Lane here, though I will concede that eight flying cows bear a slight resemblance to eight flying reindeer, and “Santa Cows” certainly sounds a lot like Santa Claus.

The book follows the basic format of the poem, with 14 four-line stanzas with occasional points of similarity with the original. As with virtually every book of this type, it begins with “‘Twas the night before Christmas”. It’s a rather sad Night Before Christmas if you ask me, with everybody vegging on the couch glued to the TVs; this family has four of them, and the content on every one appears to be violent, with two fiery explosions and one boxing match. The fourth TV is pretty small, so it’s hard to see what’s on, but it looks as though there may be something blowing up there as well, and though all six children are in the living room, none of them are paying any attention to each other, and it appears to have escaped everyone’s notice that the pizza delivery guy has simply made himself at home. All through the living room, not even a hint of Christmas decorations can be seen.

When the family notices the cows, Elwood, the man of the house, is thrilled, since he experienced their arrival long ago in his childhood and always hoped that they would return. I can’t help thinking a bit of Bert in Mary Poppins, patiently awaiting the next visit of a mysterious airborne visitor. The cows’ arrival brings the family together. Soon they are gathered in one place and interacting with each other, and they listen, rapt, as the cows sing O Holy Night and Adeste Fideles. Since the book includes no dialogue from the cows themselves, it’s unclear whether they are singing the words or merely mooing the melodies, but in any event, I can imagine that would be an interesting concert!

I find the choice of songs interesting, as that is the only mention in the book of the religious aspect of the holiday. This strikes me as a pretty secular household, but when the cows begin to sing, the family gives them their full attention. The cows also somehow manage to produce a fully decorated Christmas tree, seemingly out of thin air, and they enter the house by tumbling down the chimney and through the fireplace. They wear festive Santa hats, and they come laden with brightly wrapped gifts that seem likely to encourage further family time. The “warm” and “wise” Santa Cows share “goodness and truth,” and it seems to be a message about getting back to basics, about unplugging a bit from technology and engaging in physical activity with loved ones, about embracing the possibility that materialism isn’t the best way to go.

Edens sprinkles absurd humor throughout the book, including his comparison of two of the cows’ features to those of Liz Taylor’s, and he maintains a consistent meter throughout. Lane’s ink-augmented paintings of the cows are gorgeous, but what strikes me most about his full-page illustrations is the presence of so many brand-name products. We see a Domino’s pizza box (and delivery man), cans of 7-Up and Coke, a bag of Lay’s potato chips, issues of People and TV Guide and a lamp featuring the Starkist Tuna dolphin. My first thought was product placement, and then I decided it was more likely a way of showing the excesses of consumer culture, though the gifts the cows bring also have brand names, albeit of sports teams.

Santa Cows is a pretty strange book, but the exceptionally detailed illustrations are fascinating to study, and there’s a laugh on every page. If you’re tired of reading about Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, try Holstein, Brown Swiss, Jersey and Hereford on for size.

Dear Santa Is a Perfect Storm of Movie Maladies

My biggest frustration with Netflix this time of year is that, despite all of its many categories and sub-categories, there is no adequate way to bring up a list of holiday films, which are pretty much all I want to watch from mid-November through the end of the year. That means that I end up putting a lot of dubious stuff in my queue just because the title happens to contain an especially Christmassy keyword. That was the case with Dear Santa.

When it arrived, I couldn’t even tell whether the movie was live-action or animated; given the total lack of actors’ names in the description, I suspected the latter. As it turns out, however, none of the names were listed because none of them is anyone I have ever heard of. Only one member of the cast even has a photo up on IMDb, and most of them have only a couple of other film credits. After watching this, it’s easy to see why.

Dear Santa is helmed by Peter Stewart, a prolific director with a dozen pseudonyms, perhaps because he’s hoping to hide his identity from potential viewers. If this holiday flick is any indication of the quality of a typical Stewart film, I can’t imagine too many people seeking out a second movie with his name attached. The list of titles alone makes me skeptical about his ability to choose worthwhile projects; something tells me Bikini Girls from the Lost Planet and Attack of the 60 Foot Centerfolds didn’t pick up much Oscar buzz. By contrast, screenwriter Hamilton Underwood has only one other movie to his credit: the abysmal-looking My Ghost Dog.

Picture, if you will, a workaholic father with an idealistic son who still believes in Santa Claus. Suddenly, Dad finds himself putting on weight and growing facial hair with startling rapidity. He’s fallen into an overwhelming task - being Santa. Sound familiar? This movie came out in 1998, when The Santa Clause was still fresh enough in everyone’s mind that I doubt anybody could miss the blatant similarities. The movie also borrows liberally from A Christmas Carol and It’s a Wonderful Life, only serving to remind viewers how much better those movies were.

D. L. Green is Gordon, a seedy car salesman who has promised his family a snowy retreat for Christmas. Little does he realize that his boss, Mr. Ambrose (Robert Quarry), intends for him to stick around and compete with another dealer for a big promotion. Vacation’s off, and while he tries to brainstorm new ways of pushing shoddy cars onto unsuspecting customers, he experiences the effects of his son Teddy’s (Harrison Myers) letter to Santa asking for something to help his dad recapture the Christmas spirit. That something, Santa (Bennett Curland) decides, is to make him one of his special helpers. So no, he isn’t completely replacing the big guy himself, but the effect on his life is much the same.

Guiding Gordon through his Christmas nightmare is Lillith (!), a street-smart, five-foot-something elf (probably because the budget didn’t allow for the effects to make her seem pint-sized). Tena Fanning plays this wise-cracking sidekick, while young Ariana McClain is Morgan, Teddy’s schoolyard confidante. Other characters include Kirk (Richard Gabai), Gordon’s long-suffering assistant, and Mrs. Sanders (Edrie Warner), the kindly operator of a center for disenfranchised children. Of all the human cast members, her performance comes the closest to being tolerable; she’s the only actor in the bunch I’ve seen elsewhere, and her rather hokey showing here seems primarily due to shoddy writing. Quarry is an over-the-top, stereotypical mob boss, but at least he is mildly entertaining, and Gabai ekes out a laugh now and again. But the only participant without a hint of cheesiness is, in a brief, uncredited appearance, Teddy’s cat.

IMDb won’t tell me how old Myers is, but he seems to act at least a couple of years younger than he looks. This appears to be on the cusp of adolescence, but he still believes in Santa wholeheartedly, and he spends his afternoons on makeshift skis, hitting the bedroom slopes in a flurry of paper snow. There’s a whiny, needy quality to this lad that grates on me, though most of the adults are much more annoying. That certainly applies to Fanning as Lillith, who is forever scolding Gordon and usually peppering him with what she believes are witticisms rather than the cringe-worthy puns we know them to be.

And even she isn’t as obnoxious as Green, who comes across as the poor man’s Ben Affleck, smirking his way through every scene - or is that a grimace as he tries to choke down the unpalatable dialogue? Worst of all is Debra Rich as Gordon’s wife Carla. Early in the movie, she subjects us to the most outrageous display of hammy overacting I’ve ever seen - though, to be fair, I doubt anyone could have avoided looking at least a little silly when uttering the laughable lines Underwood penned. The cherry on top of this unfortunate sundae is the execrable special effects, which include a sleigh that makes its journey sans reindeer, simply zapping in and out of the space-time continuum, which almost seems to eliminate the need for a sleigh at all. Oh, and the several-minutes-long flashback just before the end of the movie recapping the film thus far, just in case somebody fell asleep and missed most of the critical plot points (which, come to think of it, is a pretty plausible scenario).

I’m not in the business of bashing movies. It’s in my nature to be charitable, especially to a family-friendly film, and a Christmas movie to boot. But I simply can’t think of any reason to recommend this movie, unless you’re an aspiring filmmaker who could use a boost of confidence. My brother made much better movies than this in high school. I suspect most middle-schoolers with a video camera could as well. In other words... Dear Santa, this movie stinks.

SantaKid Is Determined to Keep Christmas Instead of Exmas

In the vast majority of stories involving Santa Claus, the jolly old man with a red suit and white beard does not have any children. Every once in a while, however, a writer decides to change it up. Such is the case with James Patterson’s santaKid, illustrated by Michael Garland.

SantaKid is narrated by Santa’s daughter Chrissie, a Scandinavian-looking girl with long blond braids and a red knit hat. There’s a hyperactive tone to her narration, in which she rambles and interrupts herself and bubbles over with enthusiasm, so anxious is she to tell her story. Her dad doesn’t look like Santa most of the time, and in Patterson’s hands, he doesn’t magically start looking like Santa at Christmastime either; instead, he wears a padded suit and dyes the beard that he grows out only toward the end of the year.

The paintings are fairly appealing, especially of sweet, spunky Chrissie and the reindeer. The two-page spread in which she sits in her father’s sleigh with the reindeer hitched up is especially impressive. Santa’s Joe Schmo appearance takes a little getting used to, but he’s a lovable guy no matter what he looks like, and that comes across here. Meanwhile, the villainous Warrie Ransom, a ruthless business tycoon who forces Santa to sell Christmas to him, looks quite ferocious as he sneers up at readers from the page.

“You have to believe in something bigger than yourself,” Santa tells his daughter when she asks how he manages to pull off his Christmas Eve flight every year. This becomes her mantra, and she clings to it when she decides to go up against the cold corporation that seems bent on ruining Christmas by manufacturing shoddy, inappropriate toys, cultivating a spirit of despair among Santa’s elves and renaming the holiday Exmas.

I appreciate the anti-commercial slant of the book and Chrissie’s chutzpah in standing up to the big bad boss, who turns out not to be quite as tough as he looks. Of course, like The Year Without a Santa Claus and other stories in this vein, the plot hinges on “saving Christmas,” which means “allowing Santa’s deliveries to happen”. But it would still be Christmas without Santa’s presents.

The idea of believing in something bigger than yourself is a good one but is deliberately ambiguous. It’s not surprising that a story from the perspective of Santa’s daughter would equate Christmas with her dad, but that particular implication has always rubbed me the wrong way. On the whole, however, santaKid is a cute story encouraging children to stand up for what they believe in.

An Amelia Bedelia-ish Chicken Examines Christmas in Minerva Louise on Christmas Eve

Chickens are animals I generally associate with Easter: patient hens laying eggs upon eggs to be whisked away for coloring and eating, roosters crowing in the bright new morning. Aside from the Three French Hens in The 12 Days of Christmas, though, I rarely think of them in conjunction with Christmas. So Janet Morgan Stoeke’s Minerva Louise on Christmas Eve was an interesting find.

Minerva Louise is a cheerful white hen with a red comb atop her head. She wanders about her festively decorated farm with an air of exuberant innocence that reminds me of Amelia Bedelia, Peggy Parish’s popular maid who is notoriously incapable of following simple instructions properly.

Nobody asks Minerva to follow any instructions. No, her self-appointed task is simply to observe. So that’s what she does, looking at everything with a fresh pair of eyes. Where most readers see a string of Christmas lights wrapped around an outdoor evergreen, Minerva sees fireflies “all dressed up in party colors”. Instead of an angel atop the tree inside, she sees a pretty white hen. But that’s nothing compared to her reaction to Santa Claus, his “truck” with the wheels that fell off and his team of “goats” in fancy horns.

I love Minerva’s attitude of wide-eyed wonder throughout the book as well as her protective instincts when she fears that Santa Claus is depriving her farmer’s family of their breakfast and unloading his junk in their living room. And as a fan of Harry Potter in general and the marvelous Minerva McGonagall in particular, I love her name, which she also shares with my Build-a-Bear hippo.

The pictures, which take up most of each page, are fairly flat and simplistic but still eye-catching, with Minerva herself a very entertaining part of every picture. For a chicken with so few features, she is surprisingly expressive!

What I’m not crazy about is the lack of quotation marks, which makes it hard to keep track of what is dialogue and what is narration. Cormac McCarthy can throw the rules of punctuation to the wind if he so chooses, but do we really want kindergarteners just learning the ropes to have to struggle through that? At least the confusion comes in small doses, with one or two lines in large print at the bottom of each page.

I also think that the ending, while cute, is rather abrupt. Nonetheless, Minerva Louise is a lovable enough character that I would recommend her Christmas story to others and am anxious to check out her other books for myself.

James Earl Jones Impressively Narrates the Unimpressive Nine Dog Christmas

Over the past week, I’ve been scouring Netflix for Christmas movies and have come up with a few, most of which I’ve never heard of. Last night’s oddball film was a little 2001 animated flick called Nine Dog Christmas. The one mark in the movie’s favor going into it was the presence of James Earl Jones. With him serving as the austere narrator, surely it couldn’t be too bad...

This hour-long Christmas tale has two main threads that converge before long. In one, there’s a group of eight hard-on-their-luck mutts who wind up in the clutches of a nefarious Frenchman named Pierre (Randy Rice), who travels around in a sleigh pulled by his long-suffering dog Frenchie. As he carts them off to try to make a quick buck off of them, the pooches get to know each other. Australian Snowplow (Rice) and Scottish MacGregor (Thomas Garner) have authoritative airs that make them the ragtag gang’s de facto leaders. Among the rest, one is loopy, and two are rapidly falling in love with each other. Each dog has his or her own personality quirks.

Meanwhile, at the North Pole, Santa (Pat Fraley) has run into a problem, though he doesn’t realize it. The reindeer are down with the flu, and the elves scramble to find replacements before the boss finds out. Neurotic head elf Buzz (Scott Hamilton) is particularly distraught, and he enlists the aid of cheerful novice Agnes Anne (Russi Taylor) to find a new team of sled pullers in time. Whose path should they cross but those dogs in Pierre’s clutches? But getting them to Santa and training them for their takeover isn’t as easy as they might think.

I found the animation and voice work in this special to be pretty enjoyable. We hear a variety of different accents: French, Spanish, Scottish Australian. Several actors voice multiple characters, but that is never obvious, as each voice is entirely distinct from the others. Jones makes a fantastic narrator, just as one would expect, and many of the actors lace their vocal performances with humor.

The story, however, is rather weak. Replacing reindeer with dogs doesn’t seem like such a good idea, and why go so far away to recruit? Couldn’t the elves simply round up some moose or polar bears? I would think that anyone living in proximity to the North Pole would be happy to lend Santa a hand. For that matter, if size is so unimportant, the elves could probably pull the sleigh themselves. Then again, they might be just a little bit small for the job. Additionally, the conclusion of the movie, while rather heartwarming, makes little sense, as it involves Santa getting dragged back to the North Pole by a tow truck.

Pierre makes a rather entertaining villain who seems modeled after McLeach, the poacher from The Rescuers Down Under, right down to the disgruntled animal sidekick and our last shot of him in the movie. I found it hard to keep most of the dogs straight, but it’s not really all that important; the majority of the pooches are just filler to get to that magic number that is the same as the reindeer. I like intrepid Agnes, voiced by one of the regulars on the wonderful kids‘ show Jakers!, and Buzz has a couple of good moments, but the rest of the elves are inconsequential.

There’s also the matter of the music. The over-the-top love ballad seemed like something out of the cringe-worthy From Justin to Kelly, and the repeated song about “sticktoitivity” is a strange combination of rap and power ballad that doesn’t seem to gel at all and annoyed my mom hugely. Gary Morris, who wrote the songs, has won a Grammy for his work before, but that background is not evident here.

It wasn’t a terrible way to spend an hour, but I’ve certainly seen better Christmas specials. Unless you’re really hard up for something Christmassy, I’d skip Nine Dog Christmas.

Clifford Endangers Then Helps Santa in Clifford's Christmas

Clifford’s First Christmas is a story that takes fans of the Big Red Dog created by Norman Bridwell back to his first Christmas, which occurred when he was still firmly in itty-bitty puppyhood. That book was published recently, but it is best enjoyed when paired with a more classic Clifford holiday offering: Clifford’s Christmas.

Clifford’s Christmas is a pretty typical book for the series. In simple prose, Emily Elizabeth serves as our narrator, telling us about her ginormous dog Clifford and how she celebrates Christmas with him. The book is more reflective than narrative, though the progression of the season gives the story shape. Christmas begins with Thanksgiving for Emily’s family; from that point on, Clifford finds plenty of ways to celebrate the season, though given his size, not all of his merrymaking works out so well.

On the plus side, Clifford sculpts a charming snow dog. On the not-so-good side, he falls through the pond where everyone is ice skating, ruining that particular pastime for many. He is very excited for Christmas and decorates accordingly, with a tree too large to fit in Emily Elizabeth’s house, while she conspires to do some canine Yuletide matchmaking with a bit of mistletoe.

In Clifford’s First Christmas, Clifford has an encounter with Santa, who helps him out of a jam. This time, it’s Santa in need of help as he falls into Clifford’s absurdly large stocking and his toys take a tumble into his water bowl. This book is a little more action-packed than the puppy version, since adult Clifford is so destructive, albeit unintentionally. The illustrations are cute and colorful, with the most iconic picture featuring Clifford in a custom-fit Santa suit.

“Clifford is a wonderful dog,” Emily Elizabeth tells us. “He makes every day Christmas Day.” With that in mind, Clifford’s Christmas is a book that works any time of year, but young Clifford fans should find it especially satisfying as the close of the year approaches.

Mark Kimball Moulton's Reindeer Christmas Encourages Generosity

One of the first Christmas gifts I remember receiving from my aunt Nancy is an autographed copy of Jan Brett‘s Annie and the Wild Animals. Several years later, she presented me with Stranger in the Woods: A Photographic Fantasy by Carl Sams and Jean Stoick. In between and since, she has given me many nourishing books, but I thought of these two in particular as I read Mark Kimball Moulton’s Reindeer Christmas, for this is the story of an older relative instilling in the children she loves the importance of compassion and generosity, specifically toward hungry creatures in the winter.

In this book, beautifully illustrated by Karen Hillard Good, who uses drab colors to give the paintings an old-fashioned look, two children live with their grandmother. They make it a point to share their food with the wild animals lurking near their cozy home, and when they find an injured reindeer, they quickly welcome it in and nurse it back to health. After they send the animal on its way, they come to realize just how special a guest they housed when Santa sends them a remarkable gift to express his gratitude for restoring a member of his team.

I always find it interesting to take a peek at the dedication page, and I found the sentiments here especially moving. Kimball writes, “This story is dedicated to everyone who truly believes in the wonder of the season,” while Good, more personally, dedicates the book “to Dad, for all of those magical walks through the forest when I was a kid, and Mom, who always had the hot chocolate ready when we came home.” Though we don’t see a mom or dad in the book, this family is very close-knit, and all of them certainly appreciate the wonder of the season.

One thing I like about this book is that even though it’s a story about Santa Claus and his reindeer, the Reason for the Season is subtly incorporated throughout its pages. Around the house hang signs reading “Peace,” along with a drawing of the Nativity. The text itself mentions Christ, and in his thank you note to the family, Santa talks about praying. And this is a beautifully written tale, composed of rhyming couplets and incorporating rich vocabulary like “filigree,” “regal” and “luminescent.”

“Luminescent” is a good word to describe this book. As warm as a tray of gingerbread cookies fresh out of the oven, as heartfelt as the decoration applied to those cookies by tiny hands, Reindeer Christmas is a gorgeous tale of light and kindness.

Opus Soars in A Wish for Wings That Work

In my dad’s office, there hangs a Bloom County comic strip in which young Binkley awakens in the middle of the night to the horrifying specter of an axe-wielding librarian announcing that his book is hundreds of weeks overdue. I’ve always found this a disturbing image indeed, so perhaps I was tempting fate to take a Berkeley Breathed book out of the library. But I’m a big fan of innocent, starry-eyed penguin Opus, and there’s something so touching about that cover in which he stretches his arms out, embracing the night sky as a flock of snow ducks flap overhead, witnesses to A Wish for Wings That Work. So I took my chances.

Opus is the only familiar character from the strip who makes an appearance in the book, which only occasionally hints at Breathed’s typical snarky humor. This is a simple but stirring story in the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer family of Christmas tales. Opus longs to take flight like the snow ducks who surround him in his arctic home, but his wings simply aren’t designed for it. So he writes to Santa Claus with a special request, little knowing that being a bird who excels at swimming rather than flight is about to come in very handy.

Opus is such an appealing character, and his insecurities and selflessness are both on full display here. The story is written in prose, with half a page worth of narration on each left-hand page. At the top of those pages are small black-and-white drawings. Meanwhile, the bulk of the burden for the pictures is on the right-hand side, where we get page after page of full-color, gorgeously luminous paintings.

Breathed is particularly attentive to atmosphere, giving us a velvety, starry sky to accompany Opus’s first longings, ominous thundercloud cover for the moment when he is ridiculed by pigeons and glorious sun-dappled white clouds for the triumphant conclusion. I also love the way he works little bits of humor into the artwork. For instance, Santa’s sleigh has an “I Brake for Elves” bumper sticker, and the complicated gizmo Opus purchases has a note on the box warning, “requires a teensy bit of assembly.” Meanwhile, it seems quite fitting that Opus falls asleep on Christmas Eve reading Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

This is one of the most attractive Christmas books I’ve encountered, with pages I long to leap into - equipped, of course, with appropriate arctic accessories. If such a feat were possible, I’d have to be careful to remind myself to wear a coat, because despite the icy setting, A Wish for Wings That Work leaves me feeling warmed to the core.

JibJab Creators Gregg and Evan Spiridellis Skewer Commercialism in The Longest Christmas List Ever

When I picked up The Longest Christmas List Ever, I was attracted by the cover art, featuring a perplexed-looking boy, pencil in hand, mulling over his Christmas list amidst a sea of brightly wrapped packages. I didn’t realize that I was familiar with the work of its creators, Gregg and Evan Spiridellis; that revelation came when I flipped to the back flap and learned that these were brothers who had founded JibJab, my favorite source of wry political parodies. Once I saw that, I figured I must be in for something good. And I was right.

Trevor is a lively little boy who absolutely loves Christmas. One year, he tears downstairs and rips open his packages in exultation, but the joy is short-lived, as he realizes that he neglected to make one very special request of Santa. So he starts a new list, right then and there, and he keeps adding onto it, thinking up more and more outlandish gifts and filling up boxes with pads of paper. It’s far too much for one small boy, but will Trevor understand that before Christmas rolls around again?

This appealing tale is written in rhyming couplets that are just as expertly written as one would expect from the men who came up with This Land, Good to Be in D.C. and Time for Some Campaignin’. I’ve encountered some Christmas books in which the clunkiness of the rhyme distracts from the story, so I’m glad that isn’t a concern here. They dream up some pretty oddball things for Trevor to fantasize about: “A remote-controlled plane with a camera inside! / An invisible robot that’s easy to hide! / Binocular glasses with night-vision mode! / A rip-roaring go-kart to tear down the road!” And for every item mentioned in the narration, there’s another ten in the illustrations, giving kids plenty of objects to identify as they examine the pictures.

And they will want to examine them, because these paintings are delightful. Loaded with little details, they show the absurdity of Trevor’s youthful greed. Piles of toys, mostly ignored, lie upon the floor, while mountains of items accumulate in his imagination. My favorite aspect of the illustrations is his father, a lanky, bearded man who wanders about with a shell-shocked expression permanently etched into his face. Living with Trevor seems to be a harrowing experience! I also love the elderly man who stands behind Trevor at the post office, rolling his eyes as the boy explains his need to send his boxes of requests to the North Pole.

Like A Charlie Brown Christmas and several subsequent holiday classics, this story encourages kids not to get caught up in consumerism as they prepare for Christmas. It’s very funny, but it also contains an important message to help counteract the holiday gimmies.

Patricia Polacco's Welcome Comfort is Warm and Inviting

Last year, I was introduced to author-illustrator Patricia Polacco via The Trees of the Dancing Goats, a heartwarming picture book about a Jewish family sacrificing much of their Chanukah celebration in order to bring some cheer to their ailing Christian neighbors. This year, I discovered another lovely Christmas tale by Polacco, this one entitled Welcome Comfort.

The book focuses on two people: Quentin Hamp, the jolly janitor who is an homage to a dear friend of Polacco’s, and Welcome Comfort, the boy he mentors after he observes other schoolchildren ridiculing him for his girth. Welcome has spent his childhood being shuffled in and out of foster homes, and Quentin and his wife Martha come to fill a great void in his life where his parents ought to be. Still, come Christmas, Welcome is sullen, convinced the holiday has nothing to offer him, especially since his two new friends are going away for a few days. Quentin disagrees, encouraging him to have a little faith; little does the boy realize how extraordinary this Christmas will be.

Many of the same elements that I so love in The Trees of the Dancing Goats are present in this story: kindness to others, togetherness trumping possessions during holiday celebrations, a child learning important lessons from a caring adult. The illustrations are fairly realistic and follow Welcome and Quentin through many years of friendship, taking the boy into adulthood and the man into retirement. Polacco’s gently drifting snow adds a magical touch to the winter scenes, though the most touching spreads involve Quentin and Welcome spending time together throughout the year. I especially like the painting of the two of them fly-fishing in matching flannel jackets.

While The Trees of the Dancing Goats is thoroughly realistic and is actually based on one of Polacco’s childhood experiences, there’s a definite fairy tale element to Welcome Comfort. The cover, which shows Welcome riding in a sleigh with Santa Claus, ought to be enough of a tip-off that readers won’t be too surprised when the book takes a detour from reality. The parallels between Welcome’s everyday life and the extraordinary secret he carries with him are striking, and one can focus more on one aspect of the tale than the other and still be left with the same lessons.

Believing is seeing. That’s the main message of the book, whether it’s talking about a child’s belief in Santa Claus or an adult’s belief that a child who isn’t valued by society is worth nurturing. Quentin describes the name Welcome Comfort as “the warmest, most inviting name I’ve ever heard,” and it couldn’t be a more appropriate title for this book.