'Twas the Night Before Dickens

The world of Charles Dickens, in the popular imagination of our day, is little more than a Victorian Christmas card; plump ladies in funny caps, fat gentlemen in side-whiskers, all gathered 'round the Christmas table, chubby tykes gamboling about, and a toast in punch about to be drunk to the joys of the Season, perhaps to be followed by another to the dear little Queen. And then, what? Carols perhaps? How jolly. But look again at the card reproduced above. It is the very first commercially produced Christmas card, from 1843. There's more to it, isn't there?

Nowadays, there are whole collections for sale on EBay of just such happy scenes in miniature; whole happy villages reproduced in neat plastic, snow white plastic on tidy plastic streets full of clean little plastic Victorians and everybody, again, seems to be forever on the verge of singing. And this cheery vulgarity, for whom is it named? Why, Charles Dickens, of course.

It is entirely understandable that some might find this vision of the sanitized,

sentimentalized past more than a little noisome. Dickens would.

And there's worse. In Kent, England there's now an amusement park, brazenly called "Dickens' World," where costumed characters parade around the tidy reproduction of London, including, if you can believe it, the quaint slums, and drop off the little ones for daycare in "Fagin's Den."

Because what's missing in the miniatures and the amusement park -- other than taste -- and present, at least peripherally, in the actual Victorian scene on the card, are the poor. The model Victoriana is all about nostalgia, a phenomenon Charles Dickens found ridiculous and distasteful, if not infuriating, because nostalgia precludes even the possibility of progress. If they were in fact, such "good old times," then what was all that fuss about the Poor Laws, about child labor, about exploitation, and poverty, "ignorance and want?"

Dickens was no killjoy. Don't think that. As the title of Les Standiford's new book points out, Dickens is, after all, The Man Who Invented Christmas. But Christmas, as Dickens understood it, was as much or more about what we do to one another the rest of the year, as it is about what we do for one another, or at least intend to do, come December 25th.

So, enjoy the Festive Season, as those jolly folks in the middle of the first Christmas card seem to be doing. Dickens would heartily approve. He'd join in the fun, if he still could. (And maybe he does, depending on one's point of view.) But note what's just to either side of the good time. And remember, as Charles Dickens, in his "generous anger," wrote, and spoke, and read aloud and fought to remind us: that the spirit of Christmas need not come but once a year.

Our Own Lucy & Linus

And now, to see the evening out at the Booth, we have a duo of real book pros: Matthew & Stesha, UBS's own. True, they are adorable, but they are also really (really) bookish, so come see if they don't know just the right novel ("Not too violent or dirty, mind.") for dear ol' Aunt Lil, or the best new arty comix for your kid brother.

The Stranger at the Booth

Paul Constant, the Books Editor for The Stranger, is in the Booth and taking questions. Trust us, he's as amusing and erudite in person as he is in the pages of Seattle's favorite free paper.

And he's considerably younger and hipper -- than me at least --

so he may just be the one whose advice you need for that younger

relative who absolutely stumps you come gift giving season.

The Man from Norton

This hour at our Holiday Gift Advice Booth, we have Dan Christiaens -- the Man From W. W. Norton -- a publisher's Rep with a long and happy relationship with independent booksellers like us. (And he's joined at the Booth by his beautiful wife.)

This man reads (you hear me?) and not just 'cause it's his job.

Ask and learn, people, ask and learn.

Yo, yo, yo... Nancy Pearl is in Da House!

Seattle's own beloved Biblio-enthusiast, NPR commentator, television interviewer, author of the Book Lust books, and all around Best Librarian Ever -- Nancy Pearl! is in the store now, from noon 'til 2, answering your Holiday gift questions, making recommendations, and, as always bringing happiness to all of us at UBS and the general public.

Get your quarter out, get in line, and ask away!

Next Expert, Please!

Marilyn Dahl, editor of the indispensable Shelf Awareness, is our next expert advisor at the Booth. She's only here until noon, so get in here and get advise on books from a woman who knows more books, and more about books, than just about anyone you're likely ever to meet.

The Holiday Gift Advice Booth is Open!

A team of experts is waiting, all day today, to help you pick the perfect book for any and everyone on your gift list. First up today, David Glenn, Random House Rep Extraordinaire.

The line is already forming, the advice costs one thin quarter and all moneys raised go to the University Book Store Scholarship Endowment Fund. So get in here today!

Tonight's Capote reading

We'd like to give one last plug for tonight's reading in our U District store by our own Used Book Buyer Brad Craft. For the last couple of years, Brad has very generously accepted our invitation to him to sit down in a nice comfortable chair and read us a story.

That story, "A Christmas Memory" by Truman Capote, is a remarkable piece of work, a largely autobiographical story about Capote, who as a young boy was sent to Monroeville, Alabama to be raised by his mother's relatives. Among the relatives, he met his beloved "Sook," Nancy Faulk—a childless, older woman distantly related to him—and they connected.

The boy—called Buddy—and Sook spend much of the story gathering supplies to make fruitcake for the relatives, but really the story is about poverty and loneliness—about the way we, in absence of our biological families, create our own with those who happen to be around. We're clever that way.

Sentimental? Oh, possibly. Quite beautiful, though. I've never been much for sentimentality in my reading tastes, but this one works for me. And Brad reads it with a tenderness and charm that really has brought a tear to my eye every time.

I understand Bukowski once wrote of Capote that he "never had his nose rubbed into life." The underlying sadness of "A Christmas Memory" certainly argues that, in my opinion. (And the seeming blindness of Bukowski to any form of pain that is not his own certainly reminds me why I've never cared for his writing.)

Please do join us.