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• Augusten Burroughs • 10 Comments
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The holidays are here!  In the spirit of massive excess that marks our American Christmas celebrations, I offer you a sort of montage of Christmas books this month.  

I thought I’d try to be a little bit seasonal—thematic if you will, for this month, this oh, so joyous month of glad tidings and joy to the world and all that.  

I really, really wish I felt that way.  I really wish that I could just chill out and enjoy the season—but honestly, tell me one thing about it that is truly enjoyable?  Stress free?  No strings?  No extended family?  No arguments?  Honest to God—I can’t think of a single thing, how about that?  So I’m a Scrooge, I guess, a Grinch even!  Believe me—I would love it if my heart would grow 2 sizes today or on Christmas—maybe my boobs would look bigger.  

Even the damned advent calendar that cost like $1.99 causes a fight every day over who gets to open the stupid little door and who gets to eat the chocolate…so I buy two—because why should my children learn to share?  Then my younger daughter proceeds to eat all the chocolate in her entire calendar on December 2^nd, then pukes brown streams up and down the hallway and STILL complains every day when her sister still has a little door to open and chocolate to eat.  That’s not festive.  That’s just lame and irritating.  If I didn’t have kids I don’t think I would do Christmas, and I really don’t feel bad saying that.  

Every holiday book I read has essentially the same thinly veiled theme.  Scrooge-type realizes the true meaning of Christmas; or on the same note:  Giving is more meaningful than receiving etc.  And really, if you think about it, the whole thing is weird…why should this time of year really be any happier?  People are colder.  People are spending more money.  People are forced to spend time with hated or semi-hated relatives.  The only good thing is more socially accepted drinking.  And on that note—two great recommendations of seasonal short story collections:  (And let me just throw in here that these two books will not help you find the true meaning of Christmas—whatever that is—but you’ll be laughing out loud, reading aloud to your spouse or sister or brother and maybe pee your pants.) 

The first is Augusten Burroughs (of “Running with Scissors fame—which if you haven’t read…you need to) most recent offering: You Better Not Cry.  And the second is not a recent publication, but a great one nonetheless: Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris.

Both Sedaris and Burroughs are laugh out loud funny writers—self deprecating and searingly truthful.  Both too are right around my age (42) because their obscure cultural references take me right back to the mid to late 70’s and early 80’s of childhood and early adulthood.

“You Better not Cry” is a Christmas gift, if you will, that chronicles Burroughs’ memories of Christmas over a series of connected short stories.  And by the way if you are squeamish and closed minded about alternative lifestyles—neither Burroughs nor Sedaris are for you!

In one of Burrough’s stories—I think actually the second one—just so nobody gets the wrong idea, young Augusten wakes up after a kahlua fueled black out next to a French Santa of at least his grandfather’s generation and they are both naked—at the Waldorf-Astoria.  Burroughs is gay, but beyond that—the same sex factor—everything else about the story is as cringe worthy and hilarious as you’d expect.

As far as Christmas goes though, Burroughs makes a great point, “It’s forced on you,” he says.  “It’s mandatory participation even if you have better things to do…even at the filthiest hole-in-the-wall bar they are playing “Jingle Bells,” “Rudolph,” “Frosty” and Burrough’s favorite, “the Chipmunk song.”  Satan himself was the Christmas DJ.”  It really CAN feel like that, especially when it all starts before Halloween.  Good Lord.  Can we just take it one holiday at a time?!

And worth the price of the Sedaris’ book are the hilarious “Santa Land Diaries” in which he chronicles his time spent as an elf at Macy’s in Santaland amidst crying kids, pushy parents and other hopped up elves.

Both authors have wicked, dark senses of humor.  Both are able to consistently hit every self hating moment of angst square on the head.  I really wish I were friends with both these guys.  Both authors possess my very favorite character trait: Neither of them takes himself or his life too seriously.  Low expectations and a healthy dose of self deprecation—the ability to laugh at oneself—can get you through a lot.  

Both books I recommend reading ASAP during some truly hellish, frantic trip to the mall or family photo session.  Both writers somehow are able to accurately describe the most bizarre situations AND the most mundane thoughts that YOU know you’ve had before but just haven’t ever been able to pinpoint or describe (or admit).  I will say that my sense of humor is a little twisted so I will throw that in as a caveat, but I think I can go out on a snowy, tinselly limb and say that during the holidays at least, we all get a little weird, yes?  

Let’s take a little stroll down memory lane, shall we? 

I remember my first holiday “avec enfant.”  My daughter was 4 months old in December.  I am desperately trying to remember—which means fog-lighting through a frightening haze of post-partum Hell—why in God’s name I thought it was important to go to all the trouble of a tree, house lights etc. for a 4 month old?  I think, and I could be wrong, it had something to do with her Christening?  And maybe a little post baptism brunch or something at the house?  And God forbid you have people over any time during the month of December and NOT have lights, wreath, tree etc.  (And by the way, God forbid you NOT have your child baptized in the church you were brought up in but NEVER go to...but that’s another column entirely.) 

There’s a lot more I could tell you about that uber-joyous Christmas of 1999.  My beloved child had just learned the tremendous skill of “rolling from back to belly.”  She couldn’t get back to her back so to speak…so she was pretty much pissed off half of the time she was awake—until some sucker (me) came and flipped her back.  ALSO, just to add to the utter holiday joy, my husband got sick and decided to hunker down and watch ALL of “Lonesome Dove” (the 8 hour miniseries) and drink hot toddies until he got better.  And NOT flip over the aforementioned daughter…EVER.  I have vague recollections of sort-of loudly dismantling the tree on the 26^th, slamming drawers and doors, throwing tangled light cords into boxes.

Really, if you think about it, there is absolutely no reason to do ANY decorating etc. for pre-school age children.  You could just tell them that Santa and the trees etc. are only at the mall except for very special times or very special kids and then when they are 5 or whatever, get the tree and maybe they’ll appreciate it.  You would just have to be careful what books you read them though—there are some holiday books depicting children who actually go out into the woods and cut down trees for their homes and go on sleigh rides and build snowmen and so forth.  This doesn’t happen in California so I could have just told my kid (again, pre-school age) that that is just a special pretend fantasy land of Christmas love or Europe or something.  And I just realized that this would only work with the first kid because once that kid goes to school, he’ll dime you out to the other ones at home.  Well, it would buy you at least one or two seasons “sans Noel.”

Okay, so what else did I read?  I read this remarkably smarmy book called the Christmas Jars—girl gets robbed on Xmas, but receives anonymous jar full of money—blah blah blah—pay it forward—yadda yadda yadda.   It is an absolutely “feel good” book for the season, and if you want to give the holiday spirit a chance—give it the old college try, if you will, you might as well start with this one

I also read Wally Lamb’s book Wishin’ and Hopin which was kind-of a cute story about a children’s School Christmas Pageant and all the hijinx there-in. Everyone can relate.  We’ve all been in the pageant and by now we’ve all watched our share of pageants. And yes, they are darling and yes, I recently unearthed a picture of one of my daughters  in her angel costume from a few years ago and she looks so well, angelic, that it’s just heartbreaking and so sweet but I know in my heart of hearts that she is not, in fact, an angel and does not usually wear wings.

Oh, by the way, all 4 books mentioned so far are “day-reads” –short novellas—perfect for all those cozy days by the fire.  (That was sarcasm—even fires, which I actually kinda like, if it’s cold enough—have been ruined in my house because my older daughter is obsessed with Bear Grylls and thinks using the gas to start a fire IN THE FIREPLACE is “non survivoresque.”  Bear Grylls would never do it that way.  So we go through the whole kindling bit and flint etc.—yes she has a little flint deal that her father got her.  So it takes forever and by then you’re boiling hot and want to turn on the A/C.)

Okay then I also read a book called Over the Holidays.  I’m totally lying.  I read about half and can officially say that it too will fall under the same thematic umbrella as the others.  Lost souls finding the true meaning of Christmas. It’s actually an okay book as there are some decent sub-plots and some interesting characters.  They are all acting a little nuts because it’s “the holidays”.  They have expectations that we never have at any other time of year.   Suddenly we need to have the skills of Martha Stewart and Rachel Ray but look like Gisele and possess the kindness of Mother Teresa with the time management skills of P.Diddy’s assistant.  And on top of all that, we (and the characters in this sweet albeit movie of the weekish novel ) are all searching for something that is nebulous and maybe even totally nonexistent:  “the meaning of Christmas.”   

And what is that meaning?  Right now it means, for me, lists of things to do.  For my kids, it means making lists of stuff to get.  They are utterly enchanted by Laura Ingalls’ spartan and snowy Christmas on the prairie, but can you imagine if they ONLY got a pair of mittens, a peppermint stick, an orange and a penny in their stocking? But I do think that young children and their bright-eyed wonder is at least part of that “meaning” of the season we’ve been looking for.  In theory, I think it’s something about togetherness and love and shiny lights.  One character in “Over the Holidays” sums it up pretty simply.  “I’m not a holiday person.  Holidays confuse me.  I’m better at everyday life.”  And for the most part, all the good things that are supposed to be generated by the holiday season (peace, good will, love etc.) are probably things we should strive for every day?  Maybe.

(Okay, p.s. here’s your stocking stuffers since technically nobody has to read Christmas books at Christmas time:

If you have time over the holidays, read any/ all of Elizabeth Berg’s books.

Here’s a list:

Home Safe

True to Form

We are all Welcome Here

Dream when You’re Feeling Blue

Open House

The Pull of the Moon

Joy School

Talk Before Sleep

The Year of Pleasures

Durable Goods

Never Change

Range of Motion

The Art of Mending

There are more and they are all really good books and quick reads.  Happy holidays.  Get happy.  It’s the rule.