OF BOOKS AND CHRISTMAS: SOME JINGLE BELL THOUGHTS
ON THE VITALITY OF OUR READINGS AND THE CHARACTER
OF OUR READING LISTS

Reading and vacationing are always a perfect combination. Students can finally pore on books not preceded by text, and avid readers can take occasion to sit by the fireplace and enjoy a modern classic in the soothing company of friendly fire. While the cold front heaps its effrontery to the uncovered, may God bless them, all literary bases are covered in the able hands of an avid reader. Avid reader, I could be that.

But first, let's do a little math. Our department did a Secret Santa Gift-Exchange Party at the office yesterday and three of ten participants received identical items: bookstore giftcards. Three of ten, or 30%, is probably a decent fraction of a department's gift-giving creativity pie even if you scrambled the cards in the tacky company of scented lotions and picture frames, Clay Aiken cds and votive candles. But the percentile is actually a reflection of a bigger picture, never mind the picture frame, and that is this: only 30% of the department's population are avid readers.

Everyone knew the other two to be voracious readers, too, though I did not bother to inquire about their reading lists. But I have eyes as sharp as a hunch and I can tell this: P, Corporate Controller, is unbelievably inspired by inspirationals and he'll hem or haw on Who Moved My Cheese, and find the shortest distance between two points on The Road Less Travelled. T, Corporate Counsel, probably picked his nose and did his thing under the baton of Clarence Darrow For The Defense or Scott Turow's One L (hold on, isn't T from the same Law School?) and some Grisham this or some Grisham that, but I won't be surprised if he indulged in some serious stuffs too, not just the awful, err, lawful, conceptions along the lines of Runaway Jury et.al.

LP is (was?) a voracious reader with an imposing booklist. Her impressive collection is like stairway to heaven made of Jack's beanstalk, reaching all the way from desk to ceiling, but somehow magically draws every beholder to one tiny and thinny little thingie of a book - a pictography of a revolutionary in the lighter moments of a revolution - strong and possibly visually militant enough to snub all the Nobelists and Pulitzerists of this world that also form part of that vertical collection. This Christmas I wish to give LP something that should fight for that little book's published attention though in finding it, I, too, like the featured revolutionary, may struggle.

My precious little angel, young but voracious reader as she is, has an impressive booklist herself, the titles proudly enumerated in her blog, even if I had to admit that, uhmmm, I should be partly credited for that prideful impression. I gave her books on every occasion imaginable and I intend to imagine more occasions if only to present her with more books impressionable.

Which brings me to ask: When you give somebody a gift, should that gift reflect your quality as the giver, or should it be that of the receiver's? In other words, do you give the intended beneficiary something you wanted for her, or should it be something you think she wanted for herself? And if I gave the intended receiver a gift based on all indexes I formulated, did that make me - in all irony - selfish and conceited?

In my, and the little angel's, case, I may actually did both. Partly by selfish blunder, I censored some choices thinking she was young of age to appreciate mature language (of course, I proved myself wrong). But then I picked some books for her against my will, judging as I did her wisdom over my naivete, and proved later on that, yes, o yes, her wisdom should always prevail over my naivete under all printed and published circumstances.

For the holidays, I got quite a few bookstore giftcards. Awesome cards, awesome values. I feel sorry to miss an EB with my friends, missing an opportunity to find what their bookwishes were so I could have used the cards and bequeathed them with my legacy of books.

But on second thought I can never be late. Books, like friends, like Christmas, in spirit, in our hearts, are always here to stay, ready for sharing, for keeping, for celebrating.