Twelve Days of Christmas 12: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

A glowing lamppost in the middle of a snowy wood. A faun, wrapped in a scarf, carrying parcels and an umbrella. This is one of the images that has lodged in my mind for as long as I can remember, and which is inextricably linked with Christmas. Which is odd, because there hasn't been a Christmas in Narnia in living memory. The country has been placed under a spell which means that it is always winter, but never Christmas.

When I was little, I always wanted so much to find Narnia in my wardrobe. It is so beautifully described, and though it is supposed to be a curse, I think it is at its most beautiful when shrouded in snow and ice. Perhaps I would grow tired of it if I lived in perpetual winter - after all, in real life, I am already wishing that spring would come again. But that snowy wood with its lamppost is the first sight you get of Narnia, and that is the most special, the most iconic image of this wonderful land in the wardrobe. And every time I read this book, which I do most winters, I am transported to the innocence of childhood, when, although even then I knew the story inside out, it never lost its magic and its wonder.

And with the arrival of Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter, and the return of the Great Lion Aslan, the Witch's power begins to wane. Father Christmas is seen once more. I love the fact that, although here Christ is known as Aslan and is in the form of a Lion, Christmas is still Christmas. (It was probably brought over by the first King and Queen of Narnia, Frank the Cabby and his wife Nellie in The Magician's Nephew.) Father Christmas is instantly recogniseable, as old as time, wise as well as jolly. I was pleased to see that in the recent film adaptation, Father Christmas was an old-fashioned, graver version of today's Santa, in a darker red coat, as befits an old-fashioned British story - and yet still very much recogniseable.

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is, to my mind, the classic child's fantasy story, a fairy tale not only for children, but for those who have outgrown being too old for fairy tales. It never loses its magic.

And I still check the wardrobe in every room I stay in.

Merry Christmas to you all.

Twelve Days of Christmas 11: Little House on the Prairie

I received my Little House on the Prairie omnibus for my seventh birthday, and it was my first really big book: three books in one, chronicling the early years of Laura Ingalls and her family as they settled in different places, making their homes in different places before moving to their next place in a covered wagon drawn by horses. Laura Ingalls Wilder's descriptions, coupled with the illustrations by Garth Williams, ensured that this book allowed my imagination to play house to its heart's content. A pen-and-ink drawing of the inside of a small wooden house was enough to let me imagine I was there too, living with Laura and Mary and playing make-believe.

There are two vivid Christmas scenes in the series that stand out for me: the first in the first book: Little House in the Big Woods. It is a merry, family Christmas, with all the uncles and aunts coming to stay, presents of mittens and a precious doll for Laura, home-made candy of molasses poured onto snow, making snow-angels and indulging in a feast of a Christmas dinner. It is a Christmas described so well I could almost taste it, almost smell the clean, fresh snow and hear the laughter of a family celebrating Christmas together. Other Christmases feature as the series chronicles Laura's life. Nowadays children receive TVs, gaming consoles and iPods for their big Christmas presents, but Laura makes a few pieces of candy, a pair of mittens, a tin mug and a penny sound like riches galore. What else could any child want.

The other striking Christmas in my three-in-one volume, was a lonely one. A trip to town for essential supplies was a long journey, and one December, Pa Ingalls was stranded there by a blizzard. The days following his departure are anxious days of waiting, with Ma trying to distract her children with games, well aware of the dangers her husband faces. Pa's safe return on Christmas Eve, minus the Christmas candy and treats, which he had to eat to survive, is the best Christmas present of all.

Twelve Days of Christmas 10: A Christmas Carol

You cannot, of course, write a series on fictional Christmases without mentioning Charles Dickens' ghost story and tale of redemption: A Christmas Carol. Indeed, it is claimed that this story is what has made Christmas what it is. You don't need me to tell you the story of how three ghosts convinced the cold, heartless miser Ebeneezer Scrooge that Christmas was not a waste of time and money, but a time to show love and compassion to one's fellow human creatures, and especially those who are poor and suffering. Probably you've read the book, certainly you've seen it acted out, either by Muppets or Mickey Mouse, actors or singers, set in Christmas Past, Christmas Present and maybe even Christmas Yet To Come.

I wrote last year about the deep themes of this book, about what Dickens' message of the real meaning of Christmas is all about, so I shan't cover the same ground today. Instead, I'll think of the nostalgic, romantic view of the Dickensian Christmas, cinnamon-and-sugar scented, candlelit and joyful, with a soundtrack of church bells and merry voices singing carols. I think of this Christmas ideal when working on the front tills at work, when it's got dark and I see the glowing lights and tinsel decorations in the windows of the chocolate shop across the road. When I go into Julian Graves with my mum to stock up on turkish delight, sugar almonds and spiced punch, I am taken back to Dickens' Christmas Eve, or the version of it that has evolved in my mind.

The Grocers'! oh the Grocers'! nearly closed, with perhaps two shutters down, or one; but through those gaps such glimpses! It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made a merry sound, or that the twine and roller parted company so briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like juggling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks of cinnamon so long and straight, the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. Nor was it that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly decorated boxes, or that everything was so good to eat and in its Christmas dress; but the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the hopeful promise of the day, that they tumbled up against each other at the door, crashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes, in the best humour possible; while the Grocer and his people were so frank and fresh that the polished hearts with which they fastened their aprons behind might have been their own...


You can keep your Black Fridays and your January sales; just let me retreat into this book for a heartwarming, joyful Christmas shopping experience.

Twelve Days of Christmas 9: Hogfather

There haven't been many subjects that Terry Pratchett hasn't taken from the round world, taken to his Discworld and examined from an odd angle so that what you think you know all about, looks very different all of a sudden. So it was inevitable that Christmas would get the Discworld treatment, and that it would be both festive and strange at the same time. When Sky One adapted Hogfather into a two-part drama a few years ago, seeing it on the big screen made me think that if I was not already a Discworld fan I would think it a bit dark and scary in its surrealism. Father Christmas is a skeleton in a sleigh pulled by pigs? How is that in any way not creepy? Oh, and not just any skeleton but the Grim Reaper, Death himself? How - how - is this in any way okay?

Of course, I am a Discworld fan, and know full well that Death is nothing if not a big softie. It's not until seeing Hogfather through a newcomer's eyes that I even thought twice about the weirdness. But though a bit odd, it's not dark or creepy at all, and once you get into the story, you soon forget about the things that seem to be all-wrong. The Hogfather - Discworld's version of Father Christmas - is missing, and if his job is not done, disaster will strike. People are stopping believing in the Hogfather, and the spare belief is bringing all sorts of strange beings into existance, and if people don't believe in the Hogfather, the sun will not rise.

Yet for all its weirdness, Hogfather, with Death, assassins, tooth fairies and bogeymen, is as seasonal as you can get (with plenty that is jolly, with holly, and other things rhyming with "olly.") Examining the importance of faith and belief and the traditions we just take for granted, with lots of bad punes, or plays on words, and snarky wit from Death's granddaughter Susan, along the way, Hogfather has earned its way in the Christmas canon alongside the classics featured in the Twelve Days of Christmas. And the TV adaptation is a must-see!

HO. HO. HO.

Twelve Days of Christmas 8: Harry Potter

Because of each book in the Harry Potter series spanning an entire school year, Christmas features in each of them. I found it difficult to choose just one moment, so I chose three Christmas scenes that stood out to me.

Philosopher's Stone:

After a childhood of neglect, Harry discovers that people actually like him enough to send him Christmas presents. Among other things, he receives a knitted sweater from his best friend's mother, who he's met for all of about five minutes, and an invisibility cloak from an anonymous sender with the instructions to use it well. Venturing out into the school at night to explore, he comes across a room containing a mirror. But no ordinary mirror: the Mirror of Erised shows his deepest longing - himself with his parents, who died when he was just a baby.

Goblet of Fire:

The Yule Ball, from Harry and Ron's point of view is, frankly, a disaster. Neither of them particularly want to be there, having taken as their partners two girls they have no interest in. Harry would far rather be dancing with Cho Chang, and Ron - well - he seems more than usually grumpy at the thought of Hermione partnering Triwizard rival Viktor Krum. Odd, that! But this is a major turning point in the series for Hermione Granger, the first point in which she is seen as a girl rather than a nerdy know-it-all. When the film came out, this was the moment that seemed to be hyped up above the main storyline: the point in which Hermione becomes pretty. (Considering that Emma Watson had showed up at premieres dressed up nicely, it was less of a big deal to viewers than it was to readers, but still. It was a lovely moment - until Ron ruined it. Nice one, Weasley!)

Deathly Hallows:

The last months have been a nightmare. Fleeing for their lives and wanted by Lord Voldemort, Harry, Ron and Hermione have embarked on the seemingly impossible task of tracking down Voldemort's horcruxes - which could be anything, anywhere - and destroying them. The quest has put strain on their friendship, and Ron has left. Harry and Hermione turn up in Godric's Hollow, the village where the Potters lived and died, in the cold. They search for Harry's parents' grave, and they hear the church bells ringing and people singing carols. It's Christmas eve, and they didn't even know it. The scene is sad subdued, far from the innocent joy of his first Christmas at Hogwarts, but the longing is the same, for what he's never known. It is a beautiful, but heartbreaking pensive moment, the calm amidst storms.

Twelve Days of Christmas 7: Anne of Green Gables

As I described earlier in the year when rereading the Anne of Green Gables series for my Kindred Spirit challenge, my childhood reading experiences were so vivid that sometimes they seem almost indistinguishable from my real-life experiences. I'm sure that my character was partly influenced by precocious orphan Anne Shirley, who I could identify more with than any other character I had encountered in either fiction or real life. I couldn't tell you what it was like to be a child in the early 1990s, because as far as I was concerned I grew up in 19th century Canada, 1940s rural England, on the Prairies... wherever my reading and imagination took me.

If you were to ask Anne Shirley what her most memorable Christmas present was, no doubt she would tell you about the dress bought for her by Matthew Cuthbert the Christmas before she turned thirteen. Her childhood before then was one of poverty and neglect, reluctantly taken in by one family after another, before being dropped off in an orphanage. A bright, dreamy girl with a love of all things beautiful, it was only Anne's imagination that resigned her to wearing the shabby, second-hand clothes of ugly material provided by the orphanage. Being adopted by two middle-aged people who knew nothing of children was her first taste of real happiness. Shy Matthew adored her, his sister Marilla was less demonstative, but under her stiff exterior, she too came to love Anne. But as far as Marilla was concerned, pretty clothes were frivolous and encouraged vanity, and she insisted in dressing Anne in plain ginghams and prints without any room for flounces or fashions - or puffed sleeves, Anne's biggest dream.

If you were to ask Matthew how he came to be an expert in dresses for teenage girls, he would probably scurry away like a frightened rabbit. Buying the dress that Anne set her heart on was not an easy feat for him, because he was terrified of all women except his sister, neighbour Rachel Lynde, who he tolerated, and lately Anne, the apple of his eye. When he arrived at the store to be greeted by a new - female - shop assistant, he could not bring himself to ask for dress material for his ward, instead making himself look even stranger by requesting hayseed and a rake - in winter! - and enough sugar to open a toffee factory. If it was good sugar, which it wasn't. It's a wonder that dress ever came into being. But ask Matthew if Anne's joy made it all worthwhile, and his eyes would tell it all.

"That's a Christmas present for you," said Matthew shyly. "Why - why - Anne, don't you like it? Well now - well now."
For Anne's eyes had suddenly filled with tears.
"Like it! Oh Matthew!" Anne laid the dress over a chair and clasped her hands. "Matthew, it's perfectly exquisite. Oh, I can never thank you enough. Look at those sleeves! Oh, it seems to me this must be a happy dream."

Twelve Days of Christmas 6: What Katy Did

What Katy Did is one of those books in the genre of Victorian children's literature that can be a bit too cloyingly moralistic for some people's tastes, and certainly I do feel that loveable, careless tomboy Katy is not so much improved through her trials and tribulations, as made into a perfect and dull paragon of what a young lady should be. Certainly, as the story progresses, the character of Katy holds less interest for me, but what keeps me reading these books are the details. The details of the games children play, the schemes they concoct, and the little things they do to amuse each other.

When Katy is bedridden after her accident on the swing, she and her Aunt Izzie concoct a plan for "St Nicholas" to visit and bring presents for all of her many brothers, sisters and friends. Some items are handmade, others recycled items of Katy's own, coveted by her siblings, while others still are bought fresh: including a sled for one sister and a writing desk for another. With a grand sum of seven dollars and a quarter, I wondered just how great the rate of inflation must have been since the book was written - seven dollars equalling something over four pounds today.

"I'd like the sled to be green," went on Katy, "and to have a nice name. Sky-Scraper would be nice if there was one. Johnny saw a sled once called Sky-Scraper, and she said it was splendid. And if there's money enough left, Aunty, won't you buy me a real nice book for Dorry, and another for Cecy, and a silver thimble for Mary? Her old one is full of holes. Oh! and some candy. And something for Debby and Bridget - some little thing, you know. I think that's all."


As a girl I quite missed the narrator's ironic observation - Was ever seven dollars and a quarter expected to do so much? Aunt Izzie must have been a wtich indeed to make it hold out - and thought wistfully of the days long ago when such a small amount of money could buy so many gifts.

The other Christmassy highlight comes in the second book in the series: What Katy Did At School. Spending Christmas in their boarding school, Katy and her sister Clover receive two parcels of tasty goodies from home, and from the description these boxes must have been veritable Tardises, packed with enough sweet treats to feed an entire school.

The top of the box was mostly taken up with four square paper boxes, round which parcels of all shapes and sizes were wedged and fitted [...] Each box held a different kind of cake. One was full of jumbles, another of ginger-snaps, a third of crullers , and the fourth containe a big square loaf of frosted plum-cake, with a circle of sugar almonds set in the frosting [...] Never was such a wonderful box. It appeared to have no bottom whatever. Under the presents were parcels of figs, prumes, almonds, raisins, candy; under those, apples and pears. There seemed no end to the surprises."


Those Christmas boxes must have been a remarkable gift, and the description never fails to make my mouth water.

Twelve Days of Christmas 5: Jo of the Chalet School

Elinor M. Brent-Dyer's Chalet School series is one of the most impressively-long series of children's books of all time (Nancy Drew and the Babysitters' Club may beat it, but I believe both of these had the help of ghost writer.) I can't think of a longer-running school story series, spanning 58 books (or 62 if you count those that here split into two for their paperback release.) Beginning in the mid-1920s and ending around the '60s, the books follow the fortunes of a family-run school from its humble beginnings with a handful of pupils in an Austrian chalet, through the Anschluss and World War 2 when they had to flee first to Guernsey, then to the Welsh/English Border, until the school grows so big that it has hundreds of pupils and multiple sites in Britain, Switzerland and a finishing branch.

Of course, through such a long-lived series, the tone and quality is variable, and I like best the early books, when the school is still small and family-like, when you get to know all the pupils, staff and their families, and all their foibles. The second book in the series: Jo of the Chalet School is full of such cosy, informal scenes, and best of all are the Christmas chapters, when headmistress Madge Bettany, her younger sister Jo and a couple of honorary members of the family, spend their first Christmas in Austria, visiting the family of two of the pupils who live in Innsbruck. After a term of Jo and Madge being student and teacher, they get to spend Christmas as sisters once more, in some heartwarming, cosy scenes.

Even now German and Austrian Christmas markets are a thing of wonder, replicated in city centres up and down the UK, but even more wonderful, surely, would be the real thing. My Christmases were illuminated with European folk tales alongside the British and American traditions, and in Jo of the Chalet School, Joey and Madge get to experience for themselves of the magical, Christmas-card beauty of an old-fashioned Austrian festival season. Though the girls find some of the ways of their Austrian friends a little old-fashioned, the welcome is warm and genuine, and they spend their first Christmas abroad with tobogganing, skiing and Midnight Mass, their hosts dressed in traditional costume so that, as Jo says, "It's like Hans Anderson, or Snow White and Rose Red come to life!"

Twelve Days of Christmas 4: Little Women

"Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents!" So opens Louisa May Alcott's classic Little Women, Jo expressing what could be a surprisingly materialistic sentiment in a book that, if you're not in the right frame of mind, can come across as irritatingly preachy and twee. (Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy this book - most of the time. But if I'm not in the right mood, it can get on my nerves.) And, to give her her dues, I think it's more the tradition of exchanging gifts that Jo is lamenting, rather than just wanting more stuff!

Still, the March girls manage to do quite well, even under difficult financial circumstances with their father away at war, coming up with small but all the more precious gifts for each other. Then they share their Christmas breakfast with a family in extreme poverty, who welcome them as "angels." ("Funny angels in hoods and mittens," said Jo, and set them laughing.) And this selfless giving really does bring out the true spirit of Christmas, when the girls find joy in being able to help those even less fortunate than themselves.

And when they went away, leaving comfort behind, I think there were not in all the city four merrier people than the hungry little girls who gave away their breakfasts, and contented themselves with bread and milk on Christmas morning.

And after all, the March sisters, though they have little wealth and riches, get just as much joy in their Christmas day celebrations - dressing up and acting out plays with whatever props they have at hand - as they could in going out for a "special occasion" such as theatre performances, concerts or parties. Their celebrations are constructed from joy, fun and love for life and each other.

Twelve Days of Christmas 3: Five Go Adventuring Again

As you can see, many of my Christmas must-reads are childhood favourites, books that have been a part of my life since primary school. Many of Enid Blyton's Famous Five series are fairly generic - the woman did write more adventure stories than most people read in their lives! - but Five Go Adventuring, the second book in the series, is one of my favourites, even now.

Set at Christmas time, when we are still getting to know the characters, Julian, Dick and George are required to take extra coaching in the school holidays, and Uncle Quentin has hired a tutor for them. George doesn't trust him - he doesn't like dogs, you see, and her faithful dog Timmy doesn't like him! And he will insist on calling her Georgina! But her cousins think Mr Roland is wonderful, can't do a thing wrong, and wish she would just buck up and be decent and not spoil Christmas. And for Christmas day, at least, she tries - and there are lovely scenes, describing the family's presents to each other and Anne's joy at being given the fairy doll from the tree. I don't recall seeing any other Christmasses depicted in Blyton, though with hundreds of books to her name there must be some.

The quintette spend a lot of time over at the nearby farmhouse, which, it is rumoured, contains all sorts of secret tunnels and cubby-holes. I'm sure that when I wasn't checking my wardrobe for an entry into Narnia, I used to hope fervently for a false back that was also a door into a secret passageway! Alas, there was none. They find a map, with coded hints to other passageways, and the solving of this mystery appealed, and still appeals, to my inquisitive imagination. When valuable papers are stolen from Uncle Quentin's study, and there seems no way to track the thieves due to the house being snowed up, the secrets of the map become very helpful indeed!