I’ve always wanted to read Alphonse Daudet, Lettres du mon Moulin, but time to plod through it in French hasn’t materialized. However, given the season, and coming across this compilation of Christmas stories in English translation, I thought I’d give it a whirl.
Place Royale, Paris – Augustus Pugin
~ source Wikimedia Commons
I just have to summarize the whole stories as they’re so good, so I’ll give a spoilers warning here.
“The original cause of the trouble was about twenty years in growing.”
A Chaparral Christmas Gift is the eighth story in the Everyman’s Pocket Classics Christmas compilation of 20 short stories.
The story begins on Christmas Eve with a tale of unrequited love. Rosita McMullen, daughter of the owner of the Sundown Sheep Ranch, was courted by numerous men, however only two held her admiration: Madison Lane and Johnny McRoy who is later called the Frio Kid. Rosita chooses Madison and on their wedding day, McRoy appears, tries to shoot both of them but is prevented, then shoots an innocent man and flees, screaming of his vengeance and hatred. He thus becomes the Frio Kid.
I believe this is the third Christmas that I’ve continued reading the Christmas short stories from Everyman’s Pocket Classics. The stories are written by well-known classic authors and each one so far has been excellent. This is the seventh story in the compilation, written by Willa Cather, and is set on a cold Christmas Eve in the city of Chicago
“Mary Clay looked out of the window of the old farmhouse.”
I’ve deviating from my Everyman Christmas compilation with a Christmas story out of a collection of Librivox short stories. The Christmas Present was written by Richmal Crompton, an English woman author, and is a curious story in more ways than one. Let’s find out why …
Another Christmas season and it’s time to pull out my Everyman’s Pocket Classics with 20 Christmas stories, each written by a well-known classic author. This year we start with Anton Chekhov’s short story Vanka. which is the sixth story in the compilation and one that will pull at your heartstrings. So let’s meet Vanka …
Lady dear, if Fairies may
For a moment lay aside
Cunning tricks and elfish play,
‘Tis at happy Christmas-tide.
Where God Is, Love Is
Martin Avdéitch is an honest and hard-working shoemaker who lives in the basement of a building with only one window where he can gaze out on the street and see people’s feet passing by. Although his work keeps him busy with little time for socializing, he recognizes the people from seeing their boots as they pass. His wife, poor dear, is dead, as are his many children, however one little boy is still with him and while he thinks of sending him to live with relatives, he decides to keep him with him for company. Yet, alas, his son passes away from an illness and Martin is left all alone.
Christmas at Thompson Hall
Those of you who have read Anthony Trollope’s novels know that he is a master of the art of character creation. Each of the people who populate his novels have distinct personalities that bring them alive to the reader and draw them into his world. With a short story, however, I wondered if Trollope’s fine skills would hold up using a smaller palette. And so I began to read Christmas at Thompson Hall with a somewhat apprehensive curiosity.
The Blue Carbuncle
Two days after Christmas, Watson calls on Sherlock Holmes only to find him scrutinizing an old battered hat. Holmes reveals that Peterson, a commissionaire, saw a man with a goose over his shoulder being assaulted by some ruffians. The man raised his cane to defend himself and broke a window behind him; when he saw Peterson running towards him, he hastily fled, leaving his hat and the goose behind. Peterson sought Holmes for help finding the owner of these treasures, but the only physical clues they discover are a tag on the goose, reading, “For Mrs. Henry Baker” and the initials H.B. inscribed on the inside of the hat.
Does the title of this short Christmas story inspire visions of Jolly Ol’ Saint Nick, sugar plums, presents and little children? Or perhaps you imagine the comfort of a good night’s sleep and the joy of Christmas morning? Well, wipe those thoughts right out of your mind. Gogol’s The Night Before Christmas is as far from the favourite poem of my childhood as I could imagine. He tells of adultery, the devil, thievery and unrequited love in a way that’s rather odd but extremely amusing. It’s certainly a different perspective on a very important evening.