Scrooge – A Christmas Carol.

Throughout my life, variations of this story have been my favorite Christmas stories. The endless retellings and versions of this story means that it is also one of the most popular Christmas stories of all time. Unlike other stories about plucky kids accidentally left home alone, lonely divorcees becoming Santa Claus and flying reindeer guiding Santa’s sleigh, this story is a real adult story. It has layered characters and profound character development. It grabs us by the throat and demands that we recognize ourselves in it. This small book has had more impact over the years than many a turgid and popular bestseller. One reason is because it is such an effective mirror, showing us views of ourselves.

We have all been Bob Cratchit, whether working for a skinflint, unappreciative boss, maybe being responsible for a family in difficult times or perhaps even caring for a beautiful child with devastating health problems. We have all been a Fezziwig of a sort, putting aside mundane work-a-day cares to celebrate, rejoice in the beauty of being alive and just have FUN.

And we have all been Scrooge, at least a little bit. Some misfortunes in our past put us into a permanent survival mode. Afraid. Willing to hurt others and cut ourselves off from society because of being afraid. Possibly having some blind good luck in finding love along the way, and then losing it due to some permutation of that early habit of fear. Continuing on alone, the habit of fear and individual survival at all cost never broken or enlarged to include a group beyond ourselves, never growing to encompass any group or a society. Grimly determined to survive at all costs and thus increasing those costs.

For some of us, some miracle, accident or other intervention in our lives shakes us up and makes us realize that we’ve lost our way, wasted part of our lives, made mistakes. Those of us lucky enough to have gotten the message and acted on it look back on those lost times with a shudder of horror and count ourselves blessed to have had a second chance. Scrooge is about all of us because we have all needed an undeserved second chance, at some point.

Everyone wants to be redeemed, to have a magnificent life that they would be proud of. There’s a line in the 1988 movie Scrooged, where Frank Cross says that Christmas is the time when “For a couple of hours out of the whole year, we are the people that we always hoped we would be”. Dickens’ story has stood the test of time because it is the ultimate redemption story of a sad, mundane character getting a second chance and seizing it for dear life.

Ready for Christmas in September?

One of the best parts of being a Word Nerd(*) for a significant amount of time is having been exposed to and remembering many excellent books and writers in a variety of genres. Whether it's classic literature, science fiction or non fiction, if it's well written I love it.

This also means that when friends peeve about things, chances are I just might know of a book someplace that touches on a similar topic. So in the year 2012, with friends righteously bemoaning the fact that Christmas decorations having been available since early October WHEN IT'S HALLOWEEN'S TURN, DAMNIT, it brings to mind a story that I read a long time ago.

When I was in high school, Ballantine Books produced a series of books showcasing some of the best work of science fiction's luminaries, both the rock stars and some early pioneers. Frederick Pohl is an author who is both, with a career spanning some 70 years. He earned both Hugo and Nebula awards and his "Best of" collection contains some truly amazing writing. The particular story that the "Christmas in October" theme brings to mind for me is "Happy Birthday, Dear Jesus". If you can lay your hands on this book or buy it in eBook form, I hugely encourage you to do so. READ THIS STORY!

One thing that a really outstanding writer can do (cue Joss Whedon reference) is take a story whose premise is appealing/fun and which creates certain expectations... and then surprise the reader by turning it into something else entirely. In the case of this story, the setup is easy: it's a satire told from the point of view of a rising executive in a big city department store, dealing with the stress of the late Christmas season...on September 8th.

Here's an example of a song sung by that executive:

"'Tis the season of Christmas, and all through the house St. Nick and his
helpers begin their carouse. The closets are stuffed and the drawers
overflowing With gift-wrapped remembrances, coming and going. What
 a joyous abandon of Christmastime glow! What a making of lists! What
 a spending of dough! So much for the bedroom, so much for the bath,
So much for the kitchen -- too little by half! Come Westinghouse, Philco!
Come Hotpoint, G.E.! Come Sunbeam! Come Mixmaster! Come to the
Tree! So much for the wardrobe -- how shine Daddy's eyes. As he reaps
his Yule harvest of slippers and ties. So much for the family, so much for
the friends. So much for the neighbors -- the list never ends...". (And it goes on)

The setup is funny but if it had stopped at cleverly written "late Christmas season in September" satire, it would have only been a pretty good story. Where Pohl made it a great story is by taking that cracked beginning and gradually morphing the story into a sweet and deeply affecting love story. You see, our hero hires a woman to work for the season who he ends up falling for, like a rock. Only, she's not from around here...she has been living in Borneo with her missionary father and sisters and she is just weirded out by this lengthy, consumerist celebration of Christmas.

That "Season of Christmas song"? Our executive sings it to her family when having dinner at their house (still in September) and is quickly asked to leave. More hijinks ensue and the plot keeps you guessing. But the overall story is one of the best love stories I've read, one that I still think of warmly, many years after I first read it(**). Now you, READ THIS STORY

(*) Term "word nerd" used courtesy of Uppercase Bookshop, my *favorite* area bookshop. A highlight of the town of Snohomish!

(**) Now that I got all that mushiness out of my system, I have to go compensate by being insensitive, insulting people on the Internet and riding a motorcycle like a hooligan. (Manly grunt)