The picture books that will make your family laugh, cry, and reflect anew on the meaning of the holiday.
The picture books that will make your family laugh, cry, and reflect anew on the meaning of the holiday.
W hen most people think about decorating for Christmas, evergreen wreaths, sparkling lights, nativity scenes, and poinsettias are probably the first associations they make. For me, however, seasonal decorating begins with Chinese takeout boxes. Years ago, in an attempt to make an Advent calendar that accounted for the yearly fluctuation of days in the season, my mom bought medium-sized pink and purple takeout containers from Michaels, numbered each with silver and gold paint pens, and set them on the mantel. Each was filled with pieces from our Fontanini nativity set (and sometimes a riddle, written by Dad, leading to the discovery of a new Christmas puzzle), and we siblings took turns opening a box every day. In addition to this daily ritual, there were also packages to be opened, numbered to correspond with the day’s box, and they contained some of our dearest friends.
In preparation for Advent, Mom sorts out our 100-plus holiday books, grouping them based on reading level, feast day, activity, or version of ’Twas the Night Before Christmas (I believe we have eight this year, each rendered by a different illustrator). We then divvy those into stacks, one for each day leading up to Christmas, bind them with twine, and order them by the fireplace. Every day, the faces of our beloved friends delight us as we untie the new stack and sit down to read. Ask me to name them all, and I’d be hard-pressed. Seven, however, are consistent favorites, beautiful tales that have driven the Christmas message home to me for many a year now. As always, it starts with a dash of humor.
It’s easy to lose perspective at Christmas, thinking we should have something more or something better. But what if we were simply content? In Robert Barry’s Mr. Willoughby’s Christmas Tree, we see just that: joy in something small, pride of home, satisfaction with enough. All told in a tidy rhyming style, this story is complete with amusing images that capture the tale’s whimsical nature perfectly.
Equally charming, both in story and pictures, is Roger Duvoisin’s Petunia’s Christmas. This book makes it into my top seven thanks to the looks of amusement it never fails to bring to my mom’s face each year. Some people may know this goose from her eponymous book set during the summer. In this wintery locale, our goose falls in love and must come up with money-making plans to save her gander from being Christmas dinner. Silly? Indeed. But also touching — a charming example of the lengths we go to for those dearest to us, especially during the holidays.
If Petunia makes my mom laugh, then A Small Miracle makes her cry. Told completely through pictures, this book is a testament to the power of images. More than that, though, it is a moving tale of self-sacrifice even at great personal cost, an illustration of the reverence due to sacred images and spaces, and an enchanting look at how God can work in tiny but mighty ways.
While that tale is a study in storytelling through art, Mortimer’s Christmas Manger focuses on storytelling through word — actually, the power of the Word. Sometimes, when we’re hyper-focused on our own needs, it’s easy to overlook more important things — especially Jesus Himself at Christmastime. Our little friend Mortimer the mouse is solely absorbed with finding a warm home, and decides that the cozy toy stable he’s discovered is perfect. Or it will be perfect, once he removes all the figurines that are crowding it, particularly the one in the manger. Mortimer is just getting comfortable in his new dwelling when he hears the Christmas story being read aloud. He then realizes the true identity of the little statue whose bed he’s enjoying, and we join Mortimer in a very important reflection.
As you can probably tell, excellent artwork is make or break for us when it comes to determining worthwhile picture books. Pair it with a well-written story, and you have a winning combination. Take the team of Gloria Houston and Barbara Cooney, working together on The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree. Their sweet tale of an Appalachian Christmas is a simple tribute to the grit and resourcefulness of mothers and the importance of tradition. Cooney has a magical way with images—crisp, detailed, and dainty—and even when parts of the story slip my mind, memories of the drawings remain.
Another marvelous team is Susan Wojciechowski and P. J. Lynch. Lynch, whom I’ve written about before, is a truly masterful artist. His work on the touching classic The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey is stunning: Without straying from his strong, soft-glowing style, his pictures for this book have almost a wood-carved feel to them. The story, which follows a precocious young boy and his widowed mother as they convince the town’s hardened carpenter to make them a new nativity set, is moving. With each character Jonathan carves, the boy teaches him and us just what it must’ve meant to be present at that most holy birth.
This sacred season always brings out the most extraordinary feelings and memories in us, and there are two writers I’ve found who best capture this mood in writing. In Great Joy, Kate DiCamillo reminds readers how seeing with the eyes of a child can change someone’s life. The book begs us to reflect on the angel’s announcement to the shepherds — words we so often skim over without pondering them. Well, when those are your lines for the Christmas pageant, they take on a deeper meaning, especially when you have someone very particular you want to hear them.
Finally, there’s Patricia Polacco. Her incredible artwork and seemingly endless supply of amazing tales have awed me for years, but nothing comes close to the masterstroke that is An Orange for Frankie. Every precious aspect of Christmas — food, decorations, laughter, gifts, tears, pageants — is combined here into a remarkable tribute. It’s a tribute to family, family that embraces and teaches and tenderly loves each member and shows the deep and abiding impact true sacrificial love has on us.
So there you have them: Seven books to brighten, lighten, and enliven your Christmas. Silly, poignant, stunning, rich — there are many more I could include here, but these speak such truth that they are a wonderful place to begin. May they become as dear to you as they are to me.