Christmas Stories by George Mackay Brown is a compilation of his short stories commissioned by Scottish newspapers over many years. Brown was one of the most renowned contemporary writers of Scotland, and I saw displays devoted to his work in bookstores and libraries while I was over there. He lived his entire life in Stromness, Orkney, and when I talked to Orcadian bookstore owners and library staff about him, I could tell that he was certainly a beloved figure. I bought Christmas Stories at The Orcadian Bookshop in Kirkwall.
Most of the stories surprised me by their abrupt endings. One could reasonably suppose that such stories were unfinished, that perhaps Brown was interrupted in the middle of writing, forgotten about the story, discovered it later, then sent it, as is, to the newspaper for publication. I would get immersed in a story only to be disappointed by the sight of a remainder of a paragraph and blank space when I turned the page, for I knew that the ending would be another sudden hacksaw anti-conclusion. I had never read Brown before so I do not know if this is his writing modus operandi, at least for fiction. It certainly leaves the reader in a state of wonder, not knowing how events pan out or what happens to the characters.
Brown set his stories on Orkney in modern times as well as centuries ago. I wasn’t aware of the historical context right away, for my default is to assume that each story was contemporary, yet as the story developed I could soon figure out that some stories took place in the past, however I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the old traditions are kept alive even today. In Orkney the holiday is mostly referred to as Yule, not Christmas, a point Brown raised in several of his stories.
I am glad I had the chance to visit Orkney because I recognized the places and islands Brown wrote about. I can imagine them now, all decorated for the holidays. I was pleased that my introduction to the work of this Scottish author was through this charming collection of Christmas short stories.
I liked the story The Lost Boy, where a ten-year-old unfortunately discovers the truth about Santa from his aunt, who reveals it to him in a succinct, no-nonsense manner. The aunt does not realize how much she traumatized her nephew. The following passage exposes his reaction, and it was necessary to quote it at length to show how devastated he was:
“I was feeling very wretched and very ill-natured myself that evening. My Aunty Belle had just been explaining to me after tea that Santa Claus, if he did exist, was a spirit that moved people’s hearts to generosity and goodwill; no more or less.
“Gone was my fat apple-cheeked red-coated friend of the past ten winters. Scattered were the reindeer, broken the sledge that had beaten such a marvellous path through the constellations and the Merry Dancers, while all the children of Orkney slept. Those merry perilous descents down the lum, Yule eve by Yule eve, with the sack of toys and books, games and chocolate boxes, had never really taken place at all. I looked over towards our hearth, after my aunt had finished speaking: the magic had left it, it was only a place of peat flames and peat smoke.
“I can’t tell you how angry I was, the more I thought about it. How deceitful, how cruel, grown-ups were! They had exiled my dear old friend, Santa Claus, to eternal oblivion. The gifts I would find in my stocking next morning would have issued from Aunty Belle’s ‘spirit of generosity.’ It was not the same thing at all.”
I enjoyed this passage about the Orkney rain:
“To some the rain was a delicious sky-essence dripping from their noses, breaking up their vision comically, filling the road with beautiful brimming mirrors that their feet smashed uncertainly through, time and again. To others the rain was the last twist in their rack of misery.”
And I liked this image Brown created when describing broken windows:
“Bad boys out for a lark on Hallowe’en night sent stones splintering through the windows, leaving black stars.”