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apostrophen's review
4.0
At the opening of the collection Upon a Midnight Clear, edited by Greg Herren, there is an introduction that made me smile. It said things that I've always felt - that Christmas is one of the few times of the year that being queer was something I felt so damn strongly. I was outside, looking in, and when I was alone, it freaking sucked. And everywhere I looked - especially once I started retail - it was all about the perfect family, with perfect children (all white, by the way, which I'm sure adds an extra level of awesome for the intersectional folks out there), and the perfect presents, and that perfect morning and oh, God, it sucked.
But, by the time I got some good friends together, and I started throwing "Christmas for Losers" for all of us who'd been uninvited, and the Christmas tree ornaments thing started, I had my own ways of making merry. And it was a good thing.
The introduction also mentions the joy that is the frustrating - and endless - parade of holiday movies. Just as sickening, just as devoid of anything queer, and always the same message: Christmas will fix everything!
I call bullshit.
Some of the major highlights for me were:
"It's a Life," by M. Christian
Oh I love this freaking story.
Basically it's a retelling of "It's a Wonderful Life," but from such a fresh and unique angle that I didn't see it coming. It's a perfect example, I have to say, of capturing that feeling I always felt from all those holiday movies - that the queer folk are just uninvited from that particular season. The joy in this story is in the slow realization that when you ask that you not have been born and an angel - sorry, fairy - shows you what it would have been like without you, that your realization of how much better life is had you had your original course is absolutely dripping with hubris. Because even if that world is better for everyone, what about the world you leave behind?
As soon as I read this story, I knew I was going to wholly enjoy this collection, and it's a gift to return to it again this year.
"Comfort and Joy," by Jim Grimsley
I adore this story. First off, it has these grand characters who manage to live up to their role without descending into stereotypes. It's a rich upper-crust family that Ford is visiting for the holidays, and yet Mother and Father are smothering him (despite his age) and trying to hoist him toward marriage.
Given the reality of his being gay, there's little chance of him falling for the woman they keep trying to pass his way, but it's Ford's gentle nature (and his worrisome doubting inner voice) that win the reader over. Planned, careful, and tentative, Ford is a lovely character that you root for from the first step.
I've always enjoyed Grimsley's work, and this was no exception.
"Skating," by Stephen Soucy
At first I was worried about someone re-working 'A Christmas Carol.' It's one of my favourite stories, after all. It turns out I shouldn't have worried. This story does play on the Marley's ghost idea, but goes in a fresh and interesting direction. A young man who has buried someone he loved has a visit from this man's ghost - and they travel through the Christmas days of their life together, and a chance at a future is offered.
But letting go of that kind of love can be a hard thing to do, and sometimes the chance at something new is a hard thing to risk against the potential for finding it lacking.
This is a gentle story, and right up my alley. Second chances, a dash of magic, and just enough to make you sniffle once or twice.
"Rainbows," by Jameson Currier
Now, I know - I mean know - when I pick up a piece by Jameson Currier that I'm in for a fantastic read. And I also know that holiday stories are not my cup of tea (though this entire collection of queer holiday stories, Upon a Midnight Clear, is wonderful). So I was hoping that combining the two things would even out to something I'd like, and how dumb am I not to realize it was going to be a wonderful, wonderful piece?
Lots dumb. That's how dumb.
What's brilliant here is the relationship between the narrator and Nathan (and, oh, for the record, does anyone else find it really weird when you see your own name in a story, or is that just me?) and the way that a surprise gift plays out over the story, along with a denouement that brings things back from a somewhat shaky place with a simple - and beautiful - reminder of love.
I don't want to give away specifics about this story, since the premise of the story is a surprise itself being presented to the narrator (and then other less welcome surprises thereafter) but I will say this: the way Jameson Currier can take a single theme and spin multiple threads around it is just brilliant.
I should remind myself of that every time I pick up one of his pieces.
But, by the time I got some good friends together, and I started throwing "Christmas for Losers" for all of us who'd been uninvited, and the Christmas tree ornaments thing started, I had my own ways of making merry. And it was a good thing.
The introduction also mentions the joy that is the frustrating - and endless - parade of holiday movies. Just as sickening, just as devoid of anything queer, and always the same message: Christmas will fix everything!
I call bullshit.
Some of the major highlights for me were:
"It's a Life," by M. Christian
Oh I love this freaking story.
Basically it's a retelling of "It's a Wonderful Life," but from such a fresh and unique angle that I didn't see it coming. It's a perfect example, I have to say, of capturing that feeling I always felt from all those holiday movies - that the queer folk are just uninvited from that particular season. The joy in this story is in the slow realization that when you ask that you not have been born and an angel - sorry, fairy - shows you what it would have been like without you, that your realization of how much better life is had you had your original course is absolutely dripping with hubris. Because even if that world is better for everyone, what about the world you leave behind?
As soon as I read this story, I knew I was going to wholly enjoy this collection, and it's a gift to return to it again this year.
"Comfort and Joy," by Jim Grimsley
I adore this story. First off, it has these grand characters who manage to live up to their role without descending into stereotypes. It's a rich upper-crust family that Ford is visiting for the holidays, and yet Mother and Father are smothering him (despite his age) and trying to hoist him toward marriage.
Given the reality of his being gay, there's little chance of him falling for the woman they keep trying to pass his way, but it's Ford's gentle nature (and his worrisome doubting inner voice) that win the reader over. Planned, careful, and tentative, Ford is a lovely character that you root for from the first step.
I've always enjoyed Grimsley's work, and this was no exception.
"Skating," by Stephen Soucy
At first I was worried about someone re-working 'A Christmas Carol.' It's one of my favourite stories, after all. It turns out I shouldn't have worried. This story does play on the Marley's ghost idea, but goes in a fresh and interesting direction. A young man who has buried someone he loved has a visit from this man's ghost - and they travel through the Christmas days of their life together, and a chance at a future is offered.
But letting go of that kind of love can be a hard thing to do, and sometimes the chance at something new is a hard thing to risk against the potential for finding it lacking.
This is a gentle story, and right up my alley. Second chances, a dash of magic, and just enough to make you sniffle once or twice.
"Rainbows," by Jameson Currier
Now, I know - I mean know - when I pick up a piece by Jameson Currier that I'm in for a fantastic read. And I also know that holiday stories are not my cup of tea (though this entire collection of queer holiday stories, Upon a Midnight Clear, is wonderful). So I was hoping that combining the two things would even out to something I'd like, and how dumb am I not to realize it was going to be a wonderful, wonderful piece?
Lots dumb. That's how dumb.
What's brilliant here is the relationship between the narrator and Nathan (and, oh, for the record, does anyone else find it really weird when you see your own name in a story, or is that just me?) and the way that a surprise gift plays out over the story, along with a denouement that brings things back from a somewhat shaky place with a simple - and beautiful - reminder of love.
I don't want to give away specifics about this story, since the premise of the story is a surprise itself being presented to the narrator (and then other less welcome surprises thereafter) but I will say this: the way Jameson Currier can take a single theme and spin multiple threads around it is just brilliant.
I should remind myself of that every time I pick up one of his pieces.
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