Christmas | Seattle Book Mama

My thanks go to Net Galley and 8^th Circle Press for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

When I saw the cover of this children’s book, I thought it had strong possibilities. It’s original, and I thought it was conceptually strong, so I read it. Having done so, I have come away underwhelmed.

For a book like this, a takeoff on Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, two things are important. We need resonant, bold, eye-catching artwork to engage the little person that is reading it, or to whom it is being read, and we need a regular cadence. We’re supposed to be singing this book to the same tune as the song, and while the text certainly rhymes, it’s nowhere near in pocket. It’s awkward as hell, actually. Get out your metronome and try it, I dare you.

And as for the artwork, it can best be described as minimalist. When I saw Mothman on the cover, I was thrilled. Kids would love it, I thought. But that’s basically what’s on every single page. Mothman, plus a small amount of unengaging other stuff. There’s no bold artwork at all, and very little art of any kind. The illustration of our protagonist is the entire show, over and over.

I’ve since learned that this is a series. I haven’t seen any of the other books, but I’m going to guess they are more of the same. In fact, if I continue writing much longer, I will talk myself into dropping the rating to 2.5 stars instead of 3.

It feels lazy to me; it didn’t come close to meeting my expectations. When I took the galley, I thought that if this book was as good as I hoped it might be, I would purchase a copy of it for my grandsons. I’m not going to do that now, and if I won’t, I cannot recommend you buy it either.

3.75 rounded up.

I love a good Christmas story, but so many of them are cloying or insipid. A friend recommended this one to me, and she wasn’t wrong. My thanks go to Net Galley and St. Martin’s Press for the review copy.

Ivy is newly divorced, and she comes away from it with bruised feelings, but also money. Since she works from home, she has the choice to go anywhere, so she buys a farmhouse in a tiny town in North Carolina. She pays for it without ever seeing it in person, and it comes “as is.” At this point, I say, Welp, you’re in for it now, hon. And she is, sort of.

The realtor, Ezra, known locally as “The House Hunk,” has taken a shine to Ivy. He helps her with the heat; when she discovers that the old furniture is still there in the house, he and a friend cart it off for her, and when there’s a problem with her own furniture, he helps bring it all back in. And initially, she regards his attention as a nuisance, maybe even a stalker; but between the fine reputation he enjoys locally, and the number of times he helps her out of difficult situations, she gradually warms to him.

Ivy is a likable protagonist. She’s self-sufficient, but she isn’t cold. She sets about making friends right away. Her new bud, Phoebe, is in a state because she’s fallen in love with someone she met online, and has used a picture of someone else. Now the man Is coming to see her, and she’s panic-stricken. Other new friends include a local business person for whom she does some free, and very good, advertising, and a 96 year old man. Her dog, Punkin, goes everywhere with her, and she talks to him all the time, the way that some of us also do. When she needs assistance it’s because she doesn’t know the area, or because a job requires an extra set of hands, not because she is some helpless airhead. An engaging character indeed.

My rating reflects a couple of sloppy bits that the author and editor should have caught and dealt with immediately. They’re small, but they interrupt the magic, because they cause me to think about the two slackers rather than the story and characters. The first is when she offers Ezra coffee, but warns him that all she has is instant. Two paragraphs later, she is brewing the coffee. Oh, come on! Clean it up. A bit later, after Ezra and a friend have schlepped furniture in from the truck, he asks if she’s been out to play in the snow, and she tells him she doesn’t want to spoil its beauty. “It’s so beautiful, all that clean, untouched white.” And so I wonder: did they teleport the furniture indoors? Because otherwise, surely that snow would have been touched in a whole lot of places.

There are a couple of other inconsistencies, albeit smaller ones, and I am using a fair amount of ink to discuss problems that may seem trivial, but this is no debut author, this is a successful writer with a host of books in her repertoire, and she should know better.

The plot, on the other hand, is excellent. There was one development that I thought was obvious, but when I finished my eyeroll, I was surprised to see that she didn’t take it where I expected, and instead did something much better. I particularly like the way the romance unfolds, and the way that Ivy helps Phoebe out of her dilemma. There are other threads—involving a Santa suit, of course—that are equally delightful.

So, in spite of my complaints, I do recommend this charming, fluffy tale to you. It’s a mood elevator, and we can all use some of that. It’s for sale now.