The Miracle on Ebenezer Street by Catherine Doyle
Published by Puffin, 2020
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
This playful, heartfelt reimagining of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol is set in the present day. We follow George, a ten-year-old boy who lives with his father and grandmother, following the death of his mother three years prior. Overcome by grief, his father has banned Christmas and forbids George from spending time with his mother’s side of the family, finding it too difficult to face his memories of the wife he lost. When George finds a strange snow globe in Marley’s Curiosity Shop, he sparks an adventure full of magic that will take them through Christmas past, present and future.
Charming and packed full of equal amounts of pathos and humour, Doyle’s love letter to Dickens’ classic is a lovely festive read that celebrates the wonder of the season, while acknowledging it can also be a time of great sadness, as George and his father are forced to confront their grief. Scenes are evoked wonderfully, with vivid descriptions that transport you to Doyle’s enchanting world.
It has to be said, reading a book that centres around the notions of Christmas being cancelled and the sadness of being kept apart from loved ones hits particularly strongly in 2020. On a more personal level, this will also be my first Christmas without my Gran, who passed away earlier this year, and reading about the beautiful relationship between George and his grandmother took on extra resonance as a result.
Bittersweet yet fun and ultimately uplifting, this middle grade novel is a welcome retelling that has enough references to the original to please long-term fans, while still being able to stand on its own merits.
Dorothy Wordsworth’s Christmas Birthday by Carol Ann Duffy
Published by Picador, 2014
Rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
There’s no real emotional or thematic weight to this poem; it simply follows Dorothy, sister of William Wordsworth, as she prepares to enjoy Christmas Day (which also happens to be her birthday) with her brother and their good friend, Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Duffy paints vivid pictures of the wintry setting with some lovey imagery: “Ice, like a cold key, / turning its lock on the lake; / nervous stars trapped there”, and deftly captures the beauty of the quieter moments of domesticity that make the season so cosy and enticing: “The kitchen table, / set for this festive breakfast, / an unseen still life”; “The cat at his feet / licks at her black-and-white fur / rhyming purr with purr.”
Every stanza is its own individual haiku, but they all come together to form one narrative poem. To me this felt like a nod to the structure and tradition that many of us cherish on Christmas Day, the consistent rhythm and pace also giving the poem a flowing, gentle quality. Whatever the intention, it’s a nice structural device that, coupled with the simple language, makes this a pleasant, easy read.
Each of Duffy’s annual festive poems is fully illustrated by a different artist, and this one is no exception. Tom Duxbury’s expressive style and limited colour palette are gorgeous, perfectly suited to the comforting vibe of the poem itself.
This will be my last post before Christmas, so however you’re spending it this year, I hope you all have a safe, lovely time. I’ll be back afterwards with my December Wrap Up and my Top Reads of the Year!
This is Johnson’s memoir, reflecting on his experiences as a young Black gay man growing up in America. The book encompasses many big themes, including queerness, family, identity, racism, abuse, and masculinity.
This full-length narrative poem weaves in and out of the homes of seven people who all live on the same street in London, as they lie awake at 4am. They are strangers to each other, but through a series of snapshots into their lives, Tempest captures the universal anxieties of modern life, despite their different circumstances.
I’m a big fan of Ingpen as an artist and particularly like to collect his illustrated editions of children’s classics. This brief original tale started life as a project to entertain his granddaughter.
I knew heading into this one that it would be a gamble, since magical realism doesn’t often work for me. But, when it does it tends to be when it’s in short story format, and having heard such good things about Kawakami’s other work, I decided to give this collection of micro fiction a shot.
Set in an unnervingly believable dystopian future, the climate crisis means water is now commodified; the vast armoured trains that transport it around the country often attacked by frustrated, displaced citizens. Though not hugely plot driven, we move between various perspectives, gaining insight into the new normal, and the persistence of love, loss, and the will to survive when it feels like hope is lost.
Following the death of her mother, Fiona moves into a new house, but the ghosts of former residents haunt her new home as much as Fiona’s guilt and grief haunt her.
I’m not generally a re-reader, but something seems to compel me to keep returning to this collection of graphic short stories at this time of year. This is the third or fourth time I’ve picked it up now, and my appreciation for it has grown each time. I always explain that as individual pieces, the majority of the stories fizzle out somewhat from a narrative perspective, but the concepts and atmosphere are so consistently creepy that the collection as a whole leaves a very strong lasting impression. If I were to pick a standout piece, however, it would definitely be The Nesting Place.
When he is badly injured in a car crash that kills his wife, Oghi is taken into the care of his mother-in-law. What follows in an understated though unnerving look at grief, isolation, painful truths, and bitter revenge. It does a great job of capturing an atmosphere of claustrophobia and mounting unease, and it certainly taps into our fear of losing autonomy and feeling like a prisoner within our own bodies (Oghi is left paralyzed and largely unable to communicate). I don’t want to say much else, as the core plot follows a very predictable trajectory, but there is more going on beneath the surface than first meets the eye.
Some of Poe’s most iconic short stories and poems (including The Tell-Tale Heart, The Pit and the Pendulum, and The Raven) are given new life by artist Gareth Hinds. When it comes to Poe, I tend to enjoy his creepy atmosphere, striking concepts, and strong visuals (all of which are emphasised here by Hinds’s artwork), but I find his prose and narrative arcs do little for me, often fizzling out after a lot of excellent promise.
Frankenstein is one of my favourite novels of all time, so it was fun to revisit it with the added bonus of some deliciously gothic artwork. The team that worked on this did a fantastic job. Though the text is slightly abridged to allow the art to supplement the story (a couple of my favourite lines got the chop, hence the docking of a star), the core prose, themes, and narrative that made Shelley’s work so iconic still feel largely intact.
