I can’t remember a time when I did not love books. Before I could read to myself, one of my three older brothers was usually willing to read to me. Once I was able to scrawl my name, I got my very own library card, and I looked forward all week to our Saturday afternoon treks to the local branch. Dad would head off to the stacks to gather his own collection of thick, dull, non-illustrated books while we kids made a bee-line to the brightly painted tables and low shelves of the children’s section. The three-book limit never sated my appetite, so I looked through as many books as possible before choosing the three that I would take home for the next seven days. As I got older, I enjoyed reading aloud to my three younger siblings when I didn’t have my nose buried in my own stories. When there was no captive audience to be had, I would pretend I was the “Library Lady” who came to our school once a month and gave each class book talks and shared a portion of some enticing new tome. I’d sit in my bedroom and hold the book up to share the pictures with my imaginary class of fascinated listeners; I’m sure this early love of books played a key role in my later decision to become an English teacher.

 My own daughters were read to from a very early age, and each has developed her own life-long love affair with the wonders and mysteries which reveal themselves within the pages of books. The holiday season has allowed me to relish two of my favorite things — Christmas and books — at once, and every year I look forward to bringing out all my old favorites and scouring the bookstores for one or two new treasures to add to the collection. One of our family traditions was to allow each girl to choose one story book a night, and we would curl up on the sofa next to the lighted Christmas tree and enjoy the words and pictures together. As the girls got older, sometimes they would read to me, but even now, with both in their twenties, we love to share that quiet time with these familiar and beloved tales.

I am very particular about the kinds of winter/holiday stories I allow into my little library. The story itself must be beautifully written, with the words carefully chosen and woven together to draw one in to the special world the author reveals. The illustrations must also be of the highest quality, no matter the style or medium, so that their magic combines with and magnifies that of the written word. Some years the pickings have been woefully lean, and I’ve not been enticed to purchase any of the not-up-to-snuff offerings. I simply return home to enjoy all my old friends and trust that the next year might bring a better crop from which to choose an addition.

Some of our favorites take us to times and places far from our own experiences, allowing us to travel the world in our minds and see how others celebrated Christmas or the hush of winter. Owl Moon, written by Jane Yolen and illustrated by John Schoenherr, tells how a little girl and her father strike out over a frozen, silent landscape to go owling late one cold winter night. Gloria Houston’s The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree (illustrated by Barbara Cooney), lyrically presents an Appalacian Christmas at the close of the Great War, while Probity Jones and the Fear Not Angel (Walter Wangerin, Jr.; illustrated by Tim Ladwig) is a sweet story set in a modern-day inner city neighborhood. Another Barbara Cooney-illustrated story, The Story of Holly and Ivy by Rumer Godden, took us into the world of a lonely orphan girl in England. A collection of poems by Norma Farber, illustrated with simple, bright pictures by Petra Mathers, tells the individual stories of several not-so-traditional visitors to the manger in Bethlehem (a sloth, a turtle, a ladybug, a racoon). My favorite is the poem of the queens who, though arriving late, brought practical gifts for mother and child like a homespun blue gown and chicken noodle soup. And, with thoughts full of “home and children and chores undone,” they “stayed not long” — such a lovely dose of reality with which I could readily identify!

One story I can not fail to mention, although it does not qualify as an illustrated children’s book, is Truman Capote’s A Christmas Memory. It’s really more of a long short story or a short novelette, but I’ve loved this tale ever since I first shared it with one of my 9th-grade English classes over 25 years ago. The gentle, loving relationship between a young orphan and his eccentric elderly kinswoman is revealed as we follow their preparations for a Depression-era Christmas. It is a gem of storytelling and character that readers young and old can treasure.

I wish you warmth, happiness and peaceful time spent with those near and dear to you during this special season. And my hope is that you will be able to spend some quiet time curled up with a good book to warm your spirit.

 — Patty Vanikiotis, proofreader