My holiday reading plans having gone somewhat awry, at this point in December I’ve only plowed my way through Krampus and Hogfather.
Krampus, as always, was a delightful antidote to the overwhelming array of syrupy schlock we tend to get bombarded with in December. Good to see the pagan roots of the season celebrated too. And, as always, there’s something so viscerally satisfying about seeing baddies get their comeuppance.
Hogfather, however, got rather a more mixed reaction. Although I really liked the sections in which Death was portraying Santa Claus, I felt the book dragged in most of the other parts. I think I would have gotten more out of this if I had read some previous Discworld novels. I honestly got a little lost with all of the characters and minutiae.
I’m planning on tackling the other two history-of-Christmas books in a little bit. They’re both rereads, so it shouldn’t take too long. I’ve read them so many times, the information’s a little old hat, but they’re so much fun I don’t really mind.
Anyway, here’s a recording of Dylan Thomas reading A Child’s Christmas in Wales, one of my favourite holiday classics. If you can manage it, I highly recommend catching the BBC’s A Child’s Christmases in Wales, which updates the story to the 1980s (one of the characters even has a pretty righteous Flock of Seagulls hairdo). It perfectly captures the agony and the ecstasy of spending the holidays with your family.