All I Want for Christmas is...

RHYS BOWEN: What was your favorite Christmas present ever? I know what mine was. I was 18. Transistor radios had just come on the market (yes, I realize this declares me to be OLD) and I really wanted one. But my close friend was getting married in Germany and I was invited to be part of her wedding. So my parents were buying me my train ticket to Stuttgart for Christmas, and I wasn’t expecting any presents.

Even though I was no longer officially a child I still had my Christmas stocking at the bottom of my bed. I woke early in the morning and started to go through it, expecting the sort of things that were usually in it: a sugar mouse, maybe a handkerchief, a pair of socks, a notebook. Instead I pulled out a battery. What on earth? I asked myself. What use is a battery to me? And then I felt excitement creeping up my spine. It couldn’t be, could it?  And there at the bottom of my stocking was my transistor radio.  Thinking of it still brings tears to my eyes. I'm sure it was my soft-hearted dad who thought of that.

I have tried to duplicate that feeling with my own kids whenever I get a chance. The year that the Phantom of the Opera came to San Francisco for the first time the kids were in college or high school. I tried to get tickets but they were way over our budget. Then John stopped by the theater, just in case. It turned out they had obstructed view seats, two for one night, two for another at a reasonable cost. We bought them. They turned out to be the stage box. How amazing was that? So I made up an impressive invitation:

You are invited to attend an evening of music and mayhem with me

On….

Signed, 

Your friend, the Phantom.

I watched the first of the kids open this, expecting it to be a Christmas card, read it and then look up, face alight with excitement. No way! Really?

They went on two separate evenings. Jane and Dominic went together and he, my future actor, then in high school, insisted they went in full evening dress: tux and top hat, and a long dress for her. It was an evening they’d never forget.

Apart from those the gifts that stay in my memory are hand made ones. I still have crude pieces of pottery, strange tree ornaments from their early years. Dominic continues that tradition: one year he made aromatherapy candles for everyone, another year home made bread with a jar of his sourdough starter. I have velvet pillows Clare made one year. One year I made bead bracelets for all the women in the family. These days it’s a question of time. All of my kids are working like crazy while driving kids to sports and drama practices. And the grandchildren are no longer able to be pleased with a hand knitted sweater or home made puppet.

But I still love the simple gifts. I long for a classic Christmas like the ones on TV movies.

Trying to recreate this simpler, magical feeling of Christmas we rented a house in the snow with another family one year. When we arrived it was like a Christmas card scene. Snow everywhere, so beautiful. Then the first night it rained. And rained. And the snow melted. And it was raining too hard for the kids to go outside and play. And there was no TV. And the other wife got sick so I had to do the cooking. Needless to say this was not a fond Christmas memory. 

However, one year we took a Christmas markets cruise through Austria and Germany. That was fabulous, seeing handmade toys, those rolling pins for making cookies, smelling spiced wine and sausages cooking and seeing the wonder in children’s eyes. I suppose what I’m nostalgic for is for another, simpler time. How about you?

What was your favorite Christmas? Favorite gift?

Searching for Christmas Past

RHYS BOWEN: Within the last week or so I finished next year’s Christmas book in the Molly Murphy series. It will be called The Ghost of Christmas Past. And also the paperback of last year’s book, Away in a Manger, has just been published (can you say stocking stuffer?) I love writing these books because they give me an excuse to go back to the past and experience the Christmas of long ago.

I suppose like many of us, I think back with nostalgia to the Christmases of my childhood. They weren’t nearly as grand as the country house party that Lady Georgie attends in my other book, The Twelve Clues of Christmas, but they were extremely satisfying because of all the small traditions and expectations, repeated each year. The week before Christmas we’d go carol singing around the village and be invited in for drinks and goodies. 

We would drive to my grandmother’s house on Christmas Eve, bringing with us the Christmas tree (trees were smaller in those days and I suppose we must have strapped it onto the roof of the car). We’d decorate it while my grandmother served hot punch and mince pies. We’d string paper chains around the house.  After supper we children would be put to bed, but of course we stayed awake, hoping for a glimpse of Father Christmas.  At midnight the grown-ups went to midnight mass at Bath Abbey. I couldn’t wait to be old enough to join them. It was magic sitting in that beautiful building, listening to the choir singing those wonderful hymns and then walking home through the frosty night, our breath coming out like dragon-fire.  At home we were greeted with more hot mince pies and sausage rolls.

                Our presents appeared in pillow cases at the foot of our beds. We opened them at first light, sitting up in bed surrounded by wrapping paper. I suspect we ate the sugar mice right then. I’ve been longing for another sugar mouse ever since!

The presents in my childhood were nothing like today’s gifts:  a sweater, a book, and in my teens a long playing record ( I guess that dates me horribly.)   The day itself was simple—highlighted by the turkey and the Christmas pudding, brought flaming to the table at lunch. Snooze afterward then the magnificent Christmas cake, frosted to look like a snow scene with little porcelain figures on it. And small presents had miraculously appeared on the tree and were handed out after tea. We children were required to put on some kind of entertainment—a pantomime or charades. Then a cold turkey supper and bed.  

It sounds almost boring now, but it was special because our lives were so much simpler the rest of the year. It was the only time in the year we ate turkey, or dates or saw tangerines in the stores.  Today when everything is available all the time and we have so much more, it’s hard to create the thrill of treats. We try hard—that’s why stores start blaring Christmas music at us in October.  We up the ante by requiring bigger and better presents—remember the ad to “put a Lexus under the tree?”  Right. We want that feeling of a special occasion but we don’t know where to find it.

                I’ve gone looking for it myself on several occasions—one year we rented a cabin in the snow with friends. We arrived to a picture perfect Christmas card scene. We awoke next morning to rain. It rained non-stop all week. No snow, no skiing, just bored children imprisoned in a cabin with no TV, playing endless games of cards and charades.

                One year we took a Christmas market cruise down the Danube, going around the markets in each small town. It was quite magical with the booths and the lights and the smell of sausage and cinnamon and hand carved toys. I loved it. John complained “How many more angels does anyone need to look at?”

And one year we decided to do away with commercialism and make handmade gifts.  I made dolls and quilts and others made candles and pillows and scarves. When we exchanged gifts on Christmas morning we tried to be thrilled and excited, realizing the supreme effort each one of us had made. But it’s really hard to get excited about a fleece pillow or a painted bottle. I was the first to crack. “Okay,” I said. “I did go to the store and bought these little extras.”

                “So did I,” one daughter said. “I did too,” said another. And laughing we handed out real, store-bought gifts. I guess we’re not Little house on the Prairie after all.

                So how about you? Do you still have nostalgia for long-ago holidays? Do you seek to recreate them?

Searching for the Perfect Christmas

RHYS BOWEN: Today I am celebrating the publication of a Molly Murphy Christmas book called AWAY IN A MANGER. This book is in addition to my regular Molly book that will come out next March. Yes, I wrote three books in the last twelve months. Crazy, I know.  

      One of the things I liked most about writing a Christmas story was the chance to relive an old fashioned Christmas. Have you noticed how hard we try these days to make Christmas special? Decorations appear in the stores right after the back-to-school sale these days. I see people buying new decorations even though I’m sure they must already have plenty. In about a week’s time we’ll start on the TV Christmas specials—Rudolf and Frosty and all the old favorites. And of course we’ll all fight to buy our Christmas gifts on Black Friday, won’t we? Actually not me. I do my shopping online these days.

            I think one of the reasons we try so hard is that we want something that doesn’t exist any more. We want that perfect holiday from the Christmas cards—the cottage in the snow with the sleigh bells and the smells of baking and the family gathered around the fire, children with faces aglow as they await Santa Claus. And the harder we try to capture that feeling, the more elusive it becomes. I know I’ve tried hard enough. One year a German friend was bemoaning how commercial Christmas is in the States and how she longed for that simple snowy celebration from her youth in Europe. Why don’t we rent a house in the mountains for Christmas, she suggested. So we did. Horribly expensive but we wanted to give our children the taste of an old fashioned Christmas. When we arrived it looked just like a Christmas card scene. Snow heavy on the roof and the surrounding pine trees. The smell of wood smoke in the air. The next morning we took the children skiing. And mid way through the morning the snow turned to rain. And it rained and it rained. It washed away the snow and kept on raining—too hard for the kids to play outside. We were stuck in a cabin with no TV and six stir-crazy children. So much for the perfect Christmas!

            One year when the children were grown we decided we would forget commercialism and give only home-made gifts. We all worked on them secretly—the candles and fleece pillows and bead necklaces and brownies. Then we exchanged these gifts and tried to be delighted and excited. Then someone cracked and said, “I did actually go out and buy a little something for everyone, just in case.” And it turned out everyone had done the same.

            The closest I’ve come to the old fashioned Christmas was when John and I took a Christmas market cruise up the Danube river, stopping at all the little towns with their markets in the main square. The booths were strung with lights and the air was full of good smells—gingerbread and sausages and mulled wine. There were wooden ornaments and toys and children, bundled against the cold, stared in wonder. I loved it. John not so much.  “How many angels do you need to look at?” he’d complain.

            When I think back to the Christmas of my childhood it was really so simple. My main presents were a sweater, a long playing record (remember those?), a pair of boots, a book. But it was the one time in the year that we had turkey and tangerines and we pulled crackers and sat around the fire and played silly party games like charades. I try to recreate that feeling with my own family but the truth is that we have too much the rest of the year. Turkey isn’t a treat. We have plenty to eat every day. We go out and buy a new sweater when we need one. It was the simplicity the rest of the year that made the holiday season so special. In times of plenty what is there to look forward to?

            This may be one of the reasons that Christmas books have become so popular. A chance to step back in time to enjoy the old fashioned Christmas without the commercialism. In Away in a Manger we see Molly baking and taking her little son to see Macy’s department store windows. When they see a beggar child singing with the voice of an angel Molly’s ward is convinced she is an angel come down for Christmas. But finding out who she really is and why she speaks so nicely with an English accent will take Molly from the dangers of the dockland to the highest levels of New York society.

            I hope you enjoy Away in a Manger. Maybe you’ll find some suggestions for your celebration this year. I’ll be giving away a signed copy to one lucky commented today. My early Christmas gift to you. And if you didn’t have the chance to read my earlier Christmas book, The Twelve Clues of Christmas, it will be a Book Bub special for most of December. Enjoy. 

An Old Fashioned Christmas

RHYS BOWEN: I'm currently writing a Molly Murphy Christmas book, called Away in a Manger,  which is perfect as I can get into the spirit of the season as I write.... or can I? Would Molly have been surprised to learn that some people find a new car under their tree? That all presents can be bought online? That people fight each other to get into stores on pre-Black Friday Thanksgiving Day sales?

Sometimes I think we've completely lost the spirit of the season with this constant desire for bigger and better gifts, more and more of everything. In a way that's why I'm enjoying taking myself back to Molly's time, when children were thrilled to find an orange, some nuts, and maybe a small toy in their stockings. When the Christmas Day feast of turkey/pies/plum puddings really was a treat because the rest of the year meals were very simple. When carolers sang in the streets, and the air was full of pine greenery, roasting chestnuts, baking potatoes.

I took a Christmas market cruise one year up the Danube and visited the markets in small towns along the river. That's about the closest I've come to old fashioned Christmas: stalls with wooden toys and ornaments, serving hot wieners/mulled wine/gingerbread. A brass band playing. A feast for the eyes and ears and nose. Small children, wrapped up against the cold, standing wide-eyed at the magic of it all. I loved it. But would my family really be happy with a carved wooden train?

I remember one year we decided we would make hand-made gifts for each other and get away from the commercial aspects of Christmas. So we worked on them. Clare made lovely velvet pillows. Dominic made fleece hats/scarves and toys. He also made CDs of stories read by him (he's an actor) They were a big success. I did jewelry and throw rugs with family photos all over them. BUT I went to the store and got real presents (just in case). As it turned out, so did everyone else. We opened our gifts to exaggerated delight and then when we were done, one of us cracked. "I just happened to see this as well," and brought out the store-bought gift. Sheepishly we all followed suit.

So I'd love you to share--what does an old fashioned Christmas mean to you? Can you remember things that happened in your childhood that were special to you? Special foods your grandma made or family traditions? I'd love to include some in the book I'm writing.
And did you ever have a Christmas of home-made gifts?

I'm Dreaming of.....

RHYS BOWEN: This week as well as celebrating Red Julia’s new book, I am also celebrating the release of the paperback edition of my last year’s hardcover, The Twelve Clues of Christmas ( New York Times bestseller).  If you bought this book, you’ll know that it took place at a country house in England and I tried to create exactly the kind of Christmas I longed for—uncommercial , simple, good food, good friends, good fun..

I suppose like many of us,  I have a deep yearning for the old-fashioned Christmas of long ago. I want the yule log burning merrily while the family sits around the fire. I want the carol singers at the front door. Crackers. Mince pies. The holly and the ivy. God rest ye merry gentlemen.  I've tried to recreate it from time to time, but it never quite works. Maybe that is because we have so much year round these days that it's hard to make magic at the holidays. When I was growing up Christmas at my grandmother's house was simple in the extreme. My own kids and grandkids would probably find it boring. 

We would drive to my grandmother’s house on Christmas Eve, bringing with us the Christmas tree (trees were smaller in those days). We’d decorate it while my grandmother served hot punch and mince pies. We’d string paper chains around the house.  After supper we children would be put to bed, but of course we stayed awake, hoping for a glimpse of Father Christmas.  At midnight the grown-ups went to midnight mass at the local church. I couldn’t wait to be old enough to join them. It was magic sitting in the old church, listening to the choir singing those wonderful hymns and then walking home through the frosty night, our breath coming out like dragon-fire.  At home we were greeted with more hot mince pies and sausage rolls.

                Our presents appeared in pillow cases at the foot of our beds. We opened them at first light, sitting up in bed surrounded by wrapping paper. I suspect we ate the sugar mice right then.  The day itself was simple—highlighted by the turkey at lunch. Snooze afterward then the magnificent Christmas cake, frosted to look like a snow scene with little porcelain figures on it. And small presents had miraculously appeared on the tree and were handed out after tea. We children were required to put on some kind of entertainment—a pantomime or charades. Then a cold turkey supper and bed.
 
I suppose it was so special because it was the only time in the year we ate turkey, or dates or saw tangerines in the stores. We rarely had presents apart from birthday and Christmas. Today when everything is available all the time and we have so much more, it’s hard to create the thrill of treats. We try hard—that’s why stores start blaring Christmas music at us in October.  We up the ante by requiring bigger and better presents—remember the ad to “put a Lexus under the tree?”  Right. We want that feeling of a special occasion but we don’t know where to find it.

                I’ve gone looking for it myself on several occasions—one year we rented a cabin in the snow with friends. We arrived to a picture perfect Christmas card scene. We awoke next morning to rain. It rained non-stop all week. No snow, no skiing, just bored children imprisoned in a cabin with no TV.

                One year we took a Christmas market cruise down the Danube, going around the markets in each small town. It was quite magical with the booths and the lights and the smell of sausage and cinnamon and hand carved toys. I loved it. John complained “How many more carved angels do you need to see?”

And one year we decided to do away with commercialism and make handmade gifts.  I made dolls and quilts and others made candles and pillows and scarves. When we exchanged gifts on Christmas morning we tried to be thrilled and excited, realizing the supreme effort each one of us had made. But it’s really hard to get excited about a fleece pillow or a painted bottle. I was the first to crack. “Okay,” I said. “I did go to the store and bought these little extras.”

                “So did I,” one daughter said. “I did too,” said another. And laughing we handed out real, store-bought gifts. I guess we’re not Little house on the Prairie after all.

                So how about you? Do you still have nostalgia for long-ago holidays? Do you seek to recreate them?

And if I'm allowed a sliver of BSP for once, may I point out that the paperback of Twelve Clues is at a special price right now and makes a terrific stocking stuffer! You can find it at your favorite indie store, or at Barnes and Noble or online at Barnes and Noble or Amazon
But wait==there's more. I'll give away a copy of the book to the best comment of the day!