As a final installment to my literary wish list, I decided to cast back to my distant childhood and dig up the oldies but goodies.
First on the agenda is "Morris' Disappearing Bag" by Rosemary Wells. It is the perfect gift for someone's fourth or fifth Christmas. Morris is less than thrilled when none of the other bunnies want to play with the teddy bear he receives on Christmas morning. But to his delight, and ours, Morris finds an overlooked gift beneath the tree. Opening it he discovers a disappearing bag.
It is hard not to enjoy the lively illustrations and Morris's dematerialization from the page, for a moment all that is left is his tail. Clearly this is a tail that will not disappear from a young reader's mind, as it has not from mine.
"Harry Potter" is over (though not dead and gone), and luckily there is a plenitude of series to choose from which are on par in terms of enjoyment, if not popularity.
The "Redwall" series, by Brian Jacques, is ideal for young readers, who are granted entrance into the fantasy world of talking animals. There are more than 10 books in the series as of now, and each contains a hilarious range of British accents (most remarkably the moles) and an array of courageous acts and vicious enemies.
The descriptions of the food these creatures eat at their meals is absolutely divine; you'll find that dandelion or elderberry wine sounds just as appealing as butterbeer, especially when a tart with honey-clotted cream is on the menu for desert.
In the same fantastical league, there is the terrific series by Tamora Pierce, "Song of the Lioness." This quartet of books features the heroic, red-headed Alanna who switches places with her brother so that she can learn to be a knight. Magic runs in different colors in the veins of many of these characters, and Alanna develops friendships with thieves, princes, and weird yeti creatures in the mountains.
The books are aimed at fifth-to-eighth grade readers, but I read them well into my teens and desperately wish my copies were hereon my shelf to take off the edge of finals.
There are two series likely to appeal to those CSI-loving mystery solvers out there. Philip Pullman, the author of the largely popular series "His Dark Materials," also wrote the "Sally Lockhart Trilogy," which is fantastic for any amateur sleuth. And if you love Sherlock Holmes but have read all his stories twice, you will not be disappointed to learn that his legacy continues in Laurie R. King's "Mary Russell" novels.
Finally, in order to assure my faithful readers that I haven't completely regressed to a state of childhood, there is "Less Than Zero."
The author of "Rules of Attraction" and "American Psycho" broke into the literary scene when he was 20 with this novel.
The book borders on the autobiographic, and the reader's glimpse of Bret Easton Ellis's life alternately depresses and induces mild nausea.
Clay, the narrator, returns to the glamor of Los Angeles after a semester spent at an Eastern college. The lights are bright and the sunny atmosphere is practically dripping with cocaine, careless sex, confusion, and alcohol. It is the 80s, and despite the fair weather and bountiful wealth, the overpowering sensation is of deadened consciousness. "The Graduate" suggests a similar absence of purpose but "Less Than Zero" makes Mrs. Robinson's seduction and misdirection of Benjamin Braddock look like child's play.
Ellis's writing is exceptional. The narrator does not rationalize, explain or try to change. What he sees is what we get, and while the extremity of his numbness is worlds away, there is enough similarity between then and now to strike a resounding hollow chord.
This book could be the perfect gift for your parents. While you too attend a New England college, the little indiscretions you commit will pale in comparison with the glare of Clay's numb, disaffected engagement with the world.
I suggest tempering the latter with some holiday joie de vivre in the form of nog or mistletoe.
Hopefully, the weather outside is less frightful at home, but if you are stuck in a snowstorm, reach for the shelf and console your snowy woes with a book.