By Fiona Stevenson — Columnist
If you have not yet embraced the holiday spirit in the midst of crowds, commercialism, and dark afternoons, consider adopting a holiday our ancestors might have recognized.
The winter solstice celebrates renewal, birth, and the return of light and is observed the world over. It occurs on the longest night and the shortest day of the year, December 21. Celebrating the solstice can be as simple as lighting a candle or a fire at sunset, making a nice meal, putting on a fuzzy pair of socks, and listening to a good album of music. (I like Windborne, a marvelous American vocal group, whose new album of midwinter songs, “To Warm the Winter Hearth,” comes with a lovely book.) But of course, it makes it the perfect time to read.
“The Return of the Light: Twelve Tales from Around the World for the Winter Solstice” by Carolyn McVickar Edwards (Da Capo Press) is a slim volume that has become a quiet classic.
“Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times” by Katherine May (Penguin Random) is a classic memoir of finding our way through the chilling cold and understanding winter as a time of transition and building strength.
“Still Life at Eighty: The Next Interesting Thing” by Abigail Thomas (Scribner), a continuation of her memoir “Safekeeping” (1980) about life in Woodstock, N.Y., with her dogs and the natural world around her, and occasional visits from children, and friends. All hail the stiff upper lip.
My husband occasionally expresses a desire to get into the wilderness on an epic journey, and I’ve promised to accompany him if he does. I’m going to get him “Cabin” by Patrick Hutchison (Macmillan), the story of the author’s decision to move to a shack in the Pacific Northwest wilderness, with very few survival skills. At least Hutchison survived to write a book, so there’s hope for us yet.
“Pearly Everlasting” by Tammy Armstrong (Harper) is a folk tale of life in the far north of Canada, set at a lumber camp where a girl, her adopted bear brother, and a cast of eccentrics battle the evil camp overseer. Pearly’s voice will live on in your reading soul.
For younger children, “The Shortest Day: Celebrating the Winter Solstice” by Wendy Pfeffer, illustrated by Jesse Reisch (Puffin Books), ages 5-10, explains the science behind the solstice. “Goodbye Autumn, Hello Winter” by Kenard Pak (Henry Holt), ages 4-8, is a picture book in his series on the seasons, pairing the changes in nature, including cold, as something to welcome and enjoy.
Susan Cooper has a solstice picture book also called “The Shortest Day,” brilliantly illustrated by Carson Ellis (Candlewick), a celebration of the solstice as a communal and joyful time.
Cooper wrote “The Dark is Rising” (Simon and Schuster) sequence of fantasy novels, for older children and adults wise enough to recognize their genius. So much ancient myth, Arthurian legend, and elemental forces of good and evil reside in these five books, but also jolly good adventures in gorgeously described British landscapes that make it a terrific seasonal read. The audiobook, read by the great Alex Jennings, makes a wonderful listen in the dark hours doing errands.
Our time to walk and hike has been extended by the lack of snow (so far) as we approach winter, and we have been studying the beautiful array of stones exposed as summer growth retreats.
Who doesn’t have a collection of rocks in a bowl or planter, until we dump them back outside?
“When You Find the Right Rock” by Mary Lyn Ray illustrated by Felicita Sala (Chronicle) is a picture book of gorgeous cut-paper collage art with spot gloss on each stone to make it shine as bathed by water in a riverbed.
For adults, I recommend the memoir “Turning to Stone” by Marcia Bjornerud (Flatiron), a geologist who looks at a variety of rocks that represent not only different periods of her life, but of the planet. You will never look at the ground beneath your feet the same way.
Let us guard, dear reader, against the Oxford Dictionary Word of the Year, brain rot, coined long ago by our own Henry David Thoreau. Between the short daytimes, the eggnog, the terrible seasonal muzak, and the occasional dread of things to come in the new year, you may be feeling the blend of dull exhaustion that concerned Thoreau in “Walden”: “While England endeavors to cure the potato rot, will not any endeavour to cure the brain-rot — which prevails so much more widely and fatally?” In other words, he foresaw what the internet is doing to our brains.
Whether you feel you might not be grasping complex ideas in favor of laughing at cat memes, tackling something ambitious to read can’t hurt.
I have three big books on my list to tackle: “Thoreau’s God” by Richard Higgins (Chicago), which asks us to acknowledge the importance of religion in his life; “The Serpent and the Fire” edited by Jerome Rothenberg and Javier Taboada (University of California Press), which asks the reader to consider poetry as essential: and “Family Romance: John Singer Sargent and the Wertheimers” by Jean Strouse (FS&G).
The last is a stunning work of social history, examining the glamour the painter caught on his portraits of one of the most prominent Jewish families in Edwardian London, but also the challenges that both artist and subjects faced as outsiders. The Wertheimers were supremely good at making and enjoying their money while not hiding their faith. Sargent was American, possibly homosexual, and used his superb skills to earn pots of cash.
But first I’m tackling “Good Reasonable People” by Keith Payne (Viking), an argument from Payne, a professor of psychology, claiming that while our political positions may be more malleable than we believe, our core belief is that we are the good guys, and that those who disagree with us are bad. The turmoil this causes in society and with us personally is considerable and must be recognized if we are to resolve our current alienation from each other. Brain rot, begone!
The best ritual for me on solstice is getting out to see the moon. The coldest days may be ahead of us, but the moon’s light reminds me of hope and that the promise of spring is not far behind them. If you can’t face going outside, open up English Heritage’s livestream of the celebration at Stonehenge and enjoy the solstice vicariously.
