Christmas was not a big deal when I was growing up. I was raised by hippies and back-to-the-land folk who either ignored Christmas entirely or honored the Winter Solstice with a bonfire in the snow. But this book holds a special place in my heart. Living off the grid in the British Columbia wilderness in an A-frame my mom and her friends built, somehow we had a battery-operated cassette player, and somehow we had a cassette tape of Dylan Thomas reading this tale. I continue to be enchanted by the details of Thomas’s childhood in Wales, his keen observations of the adults around him, and the delightful humor and tenderness with which he holds those times. For me Christmas is not complete without a reading of this book, either by the author himself, or just me and my mom alternating lines. Give it a try.