An almost perfect Christmas

the year I was 9, my mother decided I should defrost the freezer of our small refrigerator by ironing the ice off with our old G.E. ft didn't end well. I bring this up because "An Almost Perfect Christmas," Nina Stibbe's guide to making it through the holidays without committing suicide, offers a similar scene. As Nina described her mother dragging her out of bed and forcing her to sit "crosslegged on the toilet floor pointing a Philips hairdryer on an extension lead into the chest cavity for half an hour to finish off the defrosting," I experienced a frisson of recognition. This feeling was particularly memorable because it was one of the rare relatable moments in a book that really should be translated from the English. The entire volume is a reminder that they speak a very different language on the other side of the ocean. After struggling through the first few pages, I was overjoyed to discover the little glossary tucked into the back of the book. Ah good, I thought, when I came upon someone called Alan Titchmarsh, I'll just look him up. This, however, was not much help. "Very Christmassy and bears an uncanny resemblance to the Angel Gabriel," was what I found. Wikipedia was more forthcoming, informing me that Mr. Titchmarsh, MBE, DL, HonFSE, is "an English gardener, presenter, poet and novelist." The glossary was equally opaque on the subject of Quality Street. "The only really Christmassy chocolates (except Terry's Chocolate Orange), more Christmassy than say, Heroes." Stibbe's holidays are filled with a vast array of people and objects that are complete mysteries to me. I'd be willing to bet that you're in the same boat. Are you familiar with Acker Bilk, Flubes, Orla Kiely napkins, Cluedo, the Archers, Fanny Cradock, Barbara Windsor, Marguerite Patten, Gogos, Viennetta, Blue Band, French sticks or Loom Bandz Kits? Me neither. Even our shopping habits, it turns out, have little in common. In a chapter called "Christmas Shopping," young Nina, still a small child, goes to the off-license hatch at the pub (whatever that is) to buy her mother a bottle of Bell's for Christmas. I do know what Bell's is, but I also know that no American child could stroll into a bar and casually order a bottle of whiskey. While I'm sure many American parents would be thrilled to have their children follow this advice, it won't be possible any time soon. Then there's the music. Nina insists that Slade's "Merry Xmas Everybody" is the best Christmas song ever written. Have you ever heard of it? ft turns out that this huge English hit (apparently everyorte over there knows it by heart) never really made it in America. But just as I was about to give up on Nina she delivers a great Christmas party playlist. I'll certainly use it the next time I serve Glue Vine (look it up) and sugardusted mince pies. I was beginning to feel better about the book when I came upon the sad potted Christmas tree Nina rescues from a mean florist who insists it's "not up to the job." Feeling sorry for the little fellow, Nina takes it home and stands it next to an oak "to give it big ideas," and close to an ugly bamboo "to boost its esteem." She nurtures it for years, and I kind of love her for it. Then I read the bittersweet tale of Timothy the organic turkey and found myself laughing guiltily while I worried about the poor bird's fate. As for "Swim to Santa Claus," this little chapter would be hilarious in any language. If you're an American looking for advice on surviving the holiday season, "An Almost Perfect Christmas" will do you no good. On the other hand, if all you want is a good time, Nina Stibbe is your girl: She has the knack of being funny without being mean. And once you've succumbed, Nina quickly feels like a friend. I want to call her up and have a heart-to-heart about brussels sprouts. "Ignore Nigel Slater," she opines, "just boil, do not roast or fry or add anything. You have enough to do." This is, of course, remarkably bad advice. On the other hand, I'm sure she'll be happy to hear that we're in complete agreement on the subject of thank-you notes. I also want to let N ina know that she's dead wrong about the concept of "bulking up." She thinks it foolish to add a few small presents (refrigerator magnets and the like) to make your main gift appear more substantial. I say what's the harm? But the real problem is that, in an orgy of self-deprecation, she adds, "ft has just occurred to me that the book you're now reading might well be a bulker-upper." That's selling it far too short. "An Almost Perfect Christmas" is an introduction to Nina's England, a place filled with people named Bunny Wedgwood and sisters called Vic. ft's an England where everyone loves dogs and is slightly, delightfully batty, ft's an England that makes you long to spend your next Christmas there. After all, you're now very well prepared. You know how to defrost an English turkey. And you've got the perfect playlist. ruth reichus "Save Me the Plums: My Gourmet Memoir" will be published this spring.

English humorist, novelist (Paradise Lodge , 2016), and author of the delightful epistolary memoir, Love, Nina (2012), Stibbe has a few words for people who love and hate Christmas in this little collection. Essays cover, for instance, Stibbe's practical gift-giving advice ("If like me you have a huge, materialistic family and/or a circle of fairly shallow friends, it's probable that you find Christmas shopping slightly overwhelming as well as expensive, time-consuming, financially ruinous, worrying and stressful"); the rules of Christmas-letter writing of yore ("People didn't feel the need to write the actual facts"); or the Christmas party burned into memory as a not-so-silent night, owing to a simple playlist miscalculation. In the handful of short stories scattered among the essays, an eager student gravely misjudges an over-the-holidays, extra-credit assignment, and a family gets a little too close to their Christmas turkey. Stibbe concludes with a Christmas glossary, rife with references from the preceding pieces and hilarious cross-references to itself. Funny, smart, sweet, and tender, this is greater than a gift book and readable any time of year.--Annie Bostrom Copyright 2018 Booklist