Letters from Father Christmas by J.R.R. Tolkien.
Title: Letters from Father Christmas.
Author: J.R.R. Tolkien.
Genre: Literature, fiction, epistolary novel, children's lit, YA, picture books, fantasy, humour.
Country: U.K.
Language: English.
Publication Date: 1920-1945 (this volume 1976).
Summary: Every December an envelope bearing a stamp from the North Pole would arrive for J.R.R. Tolkien's children. Inside would be a letter in strange spidery handwriting and a beautiful colour drawing. They were from Father Christmas, telling wonderful tales of life at the North Pole: How all the reindeer got loose and scattered all over the place; How the accident-prone Polar Bear climbed the North Pole and fell through the roof of Father Christmas's house in the dining room; How he broke the Moon into four pieces and made the Man in it fall into the back garden; How there were wars with the troublesome horde of goblins who lives in the caves beneath the house, and many more! Sometimes the Polar Bear would scrawl a note, and sometimes Ilbereth the Elf would write in his elegant flowing script, adding yet more life and humour to the stories.
My rating: 8.5/10.
My Review:
♥ Excuse thick writing I have a fat paw. I help Father Christmas with his packing; I live with him. I am the GREAT (Polar) BEAR
♥ Yesterday he was snowballing with the Snow Man in the garden and pushed him over the edge of the cliff so that he fell into my sleigh at the bottom and broke lots of things - one of them was himself. I used some of what was let of him to paint my white picture. We shall make ourselves a new gardener when we are less busy.
♥ I am expecting that John, although he is now over 14, will hang up his stocking this last time; but I don't forget people even when they are past stocking-age, not until they forget me.
♥ Polar Bear was being allowed to decorate a big tree in the garden, all by himself and a ladder. Suddenly are heard terrible growly squealy noises. We rushed out to find Polar Bear hanging on the tree himself!
"You are not a decoration," said Father Christmas.
"Anyway, I am alight," he shouted.
He was. We threw a bucket of water over him.
♥ There have been no adventures here, and nothing funny has happened - and that is because Polar Bear has done hardly anything to "help", as he calls it, this year.
ROT!
I don't think he has been lazier than usual, but he has been not at all well. He ate some fist that disagreed with him last November and was afraid he might have to go to hospital in Greenland. But after living only on warm water for a fortnight he suddenly threw the glass and jug out of the window and decided to get better.
♥ My dear Priscilla
A very happy Christmas! I suppose you will be hanging up your stocking just once more: I hope so for I have still a few little things for you. After this I shall have to say "goodbye", more or less: I mean, I shall not forget you. We always keep the old numbers of our old friends, and their letters; and later on we hope to come back when they are grown up and have houses of their own and children.