Pass me a tome!

Books (and more) for between the years

Happy Second Christmas! Here in the Netherlands, one Christmas is just not enough. So today isn’t the day after the Christmas, or Boxing Day, or even St. Stephen’s day. We’ve got a whole other Christmas.

This is very convenient if, for instance, you have two sets of grandparents nearby, who both want to celebrate Christmas with the grandchildren. Which we do not. All my kids’ grandparents are across the ocean, so we make do with video calls and plenty of photos in the family WhatsApp groups.

We spent a cosy Christmas at home. This year I wrapped a bunch of little treats as presents for Lyra, and she got to open one every time we did. She also got a couple of actual presents, but I suspect she condescends to wear clothing entirely to humour me.

Does Lyra like her new sweater?

Even though everyone had already filled up on candy and gingerbread, we had panettone French toast, as per tradition. After brunch I went to the gym so my introvert soul could have some alone time, and watched the first episode of One Hundred Years of Solitude on the elliptical.

Then I came home and made Christmas dinner with my daughter (husband graciously offered to do all cleanup, and son is still recuperating mostly in bed so—silver lining—gets time off all chores).

I used to think that eventually I would turn into the kind of person who spends three days in the kitchen making everything from scratch for the holidays. It may still happen if someday I have a bigger kitchen, but I’m starting to seriously doubt it.

One thing I love about the Netherlands is that around Christmas the iconic Dutch grocery store chain, Albert Heijn, comes up with all these little kits for making dramatic food at home. That’s how I discovered Beef Wellington.

It’s not a Dutch food by any means, but for some reason you can get these kits at the grocery store every year, and it makes quite a perfect Christmas centrepiece. Dutch people love eating foreign food during the holidays.

Given the name, I initially assumed Beef Wellington must be something the British often eat to commemorate their victory over Napoleon. But the few I’ve polled say they’ve only had it a couple of times, if ever.

At any rate, Beef Wellington has become a Familia family Christmas tradition. Another tradition I do every year is making giant gingerbread people to put in the kids’ stockings. I’ve been doing this for at least fifteen years, ever since they were small.

They’re both taller than I am now, but they still love eating gingerbread on Christmas morning. Here’s last year, since this year I didn’t manage a photo before gingerbread limbs started getting ripped off.

I enjoy the scriptedness of holiday traditions. There’s something comforting about holding onto something familiar as the year fades out and the unknown looms ahead. But I also love how unscripted the days between Christmas and New Year can be.

I mean, does time even exist right now? The fridge is full of leftovers, nobody has to go to school or work, and all the social engagements were for some reason planned during the run-up to the holidays, in between dashing around trying to get last-minute Christmas shopping done.

Now the days are blessedly empty, and we can do whatever we want. Such as crank up the heat, pour a cup of tea, and crack open one of those books that were waiting for us under the Christmas tree.

Or, fine, enjoy some quality screen time together.

“Pass me a tome!” said Jayce, in yesterday’s episode of Arcane, my kids’ choice of family bonding time. Left to my own devices, it’s not perhaps a television series I would watch. There’s a lot of video-gamesque stylised fighting. But it’s also got a gorgeous Art Nouveau aesthetic and some compelling characters.

For instance, Jayce, who has perpetual five-o-clock shadow, and a bit of a weak-willed personality. I think he’s also supposed to come across as hot. In this scene we’re with him in the archives or somewhere scholarly, with a small, furry non-human physicist and a world-wise teenager from the underworld (pictured below). And there are indeed a scattering of tomes on the table.

“Pass me a tome!” Jayce keeps saying for some reason, to the aggravation of the teenager, who can’t even. My kids didn’t get why I couldn’t stop cracking up. I’m adopting “Pass me a tome!” as my personal mantra henceforth.

This time of year, the tomes I crave tend to be British children’s fiction. It’s what I grew up on, and even back then, it felt like a past that ought to belong to me, but didn’t. As an American child, Father Christmas and cobblestones and sooty Victorian children in fingerless gloves felt like things I was born nostalgic for.

The Chronicles of Narnia comes to mind. When you think about it, The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe is pretty much all about Christmas. Everyone keeps complaining about how the White Witch is making it always winter and never Christmas, and then eventually we hear sleigh bells, and it’s the beginning of the end.

My husband bought me a lovely copy in an Italian translation so I can virtuously improve my language skills whilst indulging for the umpteenth time. It has the original 1950s illustrations by Pauline Baynes, which are just a delight.

The wrong reindeer, and the wrong sleigh, and certainly not Santa Claus

I was Christmas shopping at Waterstones a few weeks ago, and it just happened to be the day of the Amsterdam book market. Which was a total coincidence, I swear.

And I thought, maybe I’ll see if I can find a present for someone.

I did indeed find a present for someone.

Myself.

These luscious little books. They’re absolutely decadent, with pull-out maps and everything. I could just eat them up.

These are from the world of The Golden Compass, or Northern Lights if you’re British, or His Dark Materials, which perplexingly seems to be yet another title for this wonderful series by Philip Pullman.

If you’ve already read it, Pullman is also 2/3 of the way through a new series set in the same world, and it’s great too. Though he hasn’t published a new one since 2019, which is a bit worrying. Philip Pullman, if you’re reading this, I’ll just say we’re waiting patiently.

My husband and I happen to be watching the BBC television adaptation of His Dark Materials right now. If all you’ve seen is the 2007 film (with a deliciously evil Nicole Kidman), it’s definitely worth giving this series a try. And what better time than now? I don’t think the Magisterium even celebrates Christmas, but the whole thing just feels Christmasy to me.

Which brings me to the pièce de résistance: Susan Cooper’s iconic 1973 children’s novel, The Dark is Rising. I first read it when I was eleven, the same age as the main character, Will. It’s your classic epic struggle of good against evil. In fact, to be sure you get the point, she literally names the two sides the Light and the Dark.

The pleasure of reading The Dark is Rising in late December is heightened by the fact that it takes place exactly at this time of year, from the Winter Solstice to Twelfth Night. And every line evokes the cold, the dark, the lurking menace outside, and the cosiness of a night indoors with a fire and music and people you care about.

For an even more atmospheric experience, a couple of years ago the BBC recorded The Dark is Rising as a 12-part radio drama (or in modern terms, a podcast).

Each episode is 17-18 minutes long, so you can savour one each day, or binge the whole thing in a couple of hours. It’s perfect to share with your favourite child, even if your favourite child is yourself.

You’re welcome.

When next we meet, it will be after the turning of the year. Until then, keep safe, keep warm, and give yourself time to breathe after the hustle and bustle of the holiday.

Oh, and what do you like to read this time of year? Pass me a tome.