The sparkly season is upon us, and with it, the season of reading All The Christmas Books.  I have a stack of holiday-themed murder mysteries to take me through to New Year’s, which should show you about where I am this year.  But I’m planning to introduce some levity with a few funny books, too.  Blood on the mistletoe is all well and good, but some Christmas slapstick never hurts.

Christmas Pudding, by Nancy Mitford is the holiday in true Mitford style – a little snark, a little booze, and a lot of old-fashioned English wit.  Lady Maria Bobbin is hosting Christmas at her country estate, and a hodgepodge of “Bright Young Things” has gathered to celebrate the season.  There’s a featherbrained heiress, a shabby-chic couple sponging off wealthy friends, and an unfortunate sap who’s just published a tragic novel that no one understands (it’s been hailed by critics as the funniest farce of the year).  There’s politics, explosions (kind of), sticky sweets, horses, and a Christmas Day chapter that’s one of the funniest holiday send-ups I’ve read.  It includes a fake “attack” on an insufferable M.P. that leads to hilarious slapstick action, punctuated by a maiden aunt getting political, which you know is a recipe for disaster.

 The Country Doctor’s Commonplace Book, by Philip Rhys Evans will delight fans of the longstanding commonplace book tradition.  Evans’ collection of snips and press clippings is so much fun.  I loved seeing a spoof email about the re-colonialization of the United States that first went around after the 2000 election (in light of your inability to govern yourselves, The Queen is resuming sovereignty over the United States, except for New Jersey, which she does not fancy) and which never fails to make me snort-laugh.  My favorites were the hilarious parish notices, such as: “Ladies, don’t forget the rummage sale.  It’s a chance to get rid of all those things not worth keeping.  Don’t forget your husbands.”  SNORT.  Not to mention “Low self-esteem support group will meet Thursday at 7 p.m., please use the back door.”

The Twelve Days of Christmas, by John Julius Norwich contains laughs in inverse proportion to its length.  Just 32 pages long, and most of those pages taken up with Quentin Blake’s delightful illustrations, Norwich’s reimagining of the popular Christmas song (which I confess to loving – it’s one of my favorites) is hilarious.  Edward and Emily are a young couple, in the first flush of love, when Edward gets the inspired idea to send Emily a whimsical series of Christmas gifts.  Emily is utterly enchanted by the partridge in the pear tree, and the two turtle doves.  She’s a bit befuddled by the three French hens (Emily and Mummy don’t have a chicken coop, but she expects they’ll find one somewhere) and she has to confess that the four calling birds make telephoning very difficult.  While she loves the five golden rings (who wouldn’t?!) the six geese a-laying simply ruin the croquet lawn (I hate when that happens) and by the time the nine ladies dancing arrive, Emily is decidedly Not Amused: “all I can say is that judging from the way they dance, they’re certainly not ladies.”  Emily’s patience, wearing thin by day four, is ultimately exhausted, and the final letter (spoiler alert!) is an official missive to the hapless Edward, from Emily’s lawyer.  If you need a quick break and to laugh for ten solid minutes, Norwich is your man.

Sometimes it feels like for all the joy there is surrounding this season of the year, laughs are in short supply.  There’s just so much rushing around – so much to do, with closing out the year at work (for those of us on a calendar year schedule, which includes both Steve and me), travel, and making sure that everyone else has a magical time.  If you’re like me, you need a laugh now and again.  Mitford, Evans, and Norwich are here for you.