When I was in ninth grade, my acting teacher, Jim Gandolfo, and his wife Tammy presented the two-person musical The Gift of the Magi
at my high school. I was familiar with the story, as it was included in
a collection of Christmas tales that had been a fixture of my shelf for
years, and I wasn’t especially fond of it. M. Night Shyamalan has
nothing on O. Henry when it comes to the dramatic twist ending, and the
one in this story just felt too cruel.
But as I watched this
devoted real-life couple, who had met while starring in another
production of the same show years earlier, bring the story to life, my
attitude changed. Part of it was the script, with its emphasis on the
happiness these two paupers brought each other, and part of it was the
very real affection they brought to their roles. Ever since then, I have
found The Gift of the Magi more touching than depressing.
Not only has the story been adapted for the stage, it has served as the
basis for countless other books and Christmas specials. But there’s
nothing quite like reading O. Henry’s original, a brief but beautifully
written tale. In the recently published picture book edition, the humble
majesty of the prose is matched by the exquisite paintings by P. J.
Lynch, best known to me as the illustrator of Susan Wojciechowski's The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey, one of my family’s favorite Christmas books.
The Gift of the Magi
is the story of Jim and Della Dillingham Young, a deeply in love
married couple with barely two pennies to scrape together. Despite their
poverty, each is determined to give the other an exceptional Christmas
gift. Jim, who so admires Della’s flowing locks, knows how taken she is
with the set of tortoise-shell combs on display in a nearby shop, while
Della is keenly aware of Jim’s desire to have a proper chain to attach
to the pocket watch that once belonged to his beloved father. But with
no money to spare, securing these items is no simple task...
Lynch’s luminous paintings intricately capture the couple’s bleak living
situation, as contrasted with their bliss in each other‘s presence. The
apartment is drab, almost empty, yet there is a glow that fills the
room whenever Jim and Della share it. Some of Lynch’s illustrations fill
two pages, while others take up half a page or a full page. At times,
the placement is quite clever, particularly in the two-page spread in
which two columns of text separate the nervous Della from her husband,
who has just walked in the door and is in for a bit of a shock. Lynch
captures their expressions with wonderful warmth and humor. On one page,
Della’s entire face lights up when she finds the perfect chain for
Jim’s watch; on another, Jim stretches out on the couch and, with a
contented grin, sheepishly explains how he procured the money for those
magnificent combs.
Despite the picture book presentation, this
is not a tale that was written for children. That’s not to say it’s
inappropriate or uninteresting, but it is filled with advanced
vocabulary likely to trip up young tongues. Delicious words like
“parsimony,” “mendicancy,” “vestibule,” “appertaining,” “longitudinal”
and “meretricious” turn up on every page. The ironic conclusion may
trouble some sensitive children as it did me, with the couple’s ardent
assurances of devotion toward one another standing out less boldly than
their misfortune. Nonetheless, this would make a lovely addition to a
family bookshelf, and at this time of year it might just as easily
become a coffee table fixture, waiting to be carefully perused at any
moment. This tender tale has never been presented more lovingly - except
by another man named Jim and his equally adored wife.
No comments:
Post a Comment