Title: The Christmas Room
Author: Catherine Anderson
Series: n/a
Heartwarming but boring
Kirstin Conacher is sick and tired of being pinned under her father’s thumb. Ever since her mother died six years ago, her once loving, thoughtful father has become bitter, angry, mean, and extremely protective. She can’t go to town without him being suspicious; she can’t look twice at a man without him flying into a rage. She rebels, naturally, and one day she manages to meet Cam McLendon. Thoroughly charmed by him, she’s desperate to see him again—but is terrified of what her father would do if he found out.
Maddie McLendon’s got a lot on her mind. She, her son, and her grandson are camped out on their recently acquired Montana property, waiting for their living quarters to be built. They’re making do, but their camp isn’t prepared or equipped for winter, and as construction is delayed again and again, they’re wondering how they’ll endure the snow and cold in their less-than-comfortable set-up. On top of that, she’s secretly receiving chemo treatments, and it’s getting hard to explain why she’s sick so often. Also, her grandson doesn’t seem to be fitting in at his new school, but he won’t talk about it. And now Cam, her son, is enamored with the daughter of their nasty, cantankerous neighbor, and it’s only a matter of time before the ole codger finds out about their rendezvous. Would the old rancher destroy her son’s reputation before Cam has a chance to make something of himself in the valley they now call home?
The Christmas Room is a heartwarming story with likable characters and a down-to-earth quality that speaks of intelligence. It’s also very informed, and I’m sure Anderson spent a lot of time researching. If you have the patience, this is a good story about ordinary citizens living ordinary lives, which can be a refreshing change in a market saturated with billionaire playboys, supernatural abilities, and law enforcement.
That said, snails move faster than this book’s plot. It’s predictable and full of unnecessary detail. I got this book the day it came out, and I dinked around with it for three weeks before forcing myself to sit down and finish it. Thankfully, though, I have far fewer notes about this novel than I did about Anderson’s last one.
First, a note to the editor: señor needs a tilde over the n. Thankfully, “senor” doesn’t really mean anything, but it’s very important to include tildes where they’re needed. You don’t want to be the editor who thinks “ano” is the same as “año.” That would be embarrassing. And this is irrelevant, but just in my opinion, Mexicans don’t speak “Mexican,” they speak Spanish. Perhaps some slang and phrases and usage are different from the Spanish spoken in Spain or even Central or South America, but it’s still Spanish. We don’t say Americans speak American or UK residents speak British. If we need to make the distinction, which is really only when eggcorns or slang meanings are discussed, we say American English or British English. So I’m still going to say Mexicans speak Spanish, unless I need to specifically refer to colloquialisms unique to their country. Then I’ll say Mexican Spanish.
Second, a few inconsequential things that gave me a moment’s pause. One, Sam mentions that his hair’s getting thin on top, but in everyone else’s point of view, they think it’s hella thick. As a “polar bear’s coat” even. Maybe it was a matter of perception, but it confused me as far as how I was picturing him in my mind.
Then, while an author can name their characters whatever they want, it’s usually recommended the names be distinct from one another so as not to confuse the reader. It took me a few chapters to keep Sam and Cam straight, especially with the POV jumping around as it was. The name similarity was commented on by Kirstin, I think, but while I read it as ironic, I don’t think Anderson meant it to be.
Next, I thought it was really, really weird that Caleb skipped lunch and consequently two other classes because he wanted to spy on his dad and Kirstin on their walk and see if they were developing a closer physical relationship. IE, if they were doing more than holding hands. I don’t care how it’s explained or how big of a lecture he got about privacy afterward, I felt this was pervy. I can believe a sixteen-year-old skipping class; I can believe a sixteen-year-old being absurdly curious about sex. I cannot believe a sixteen-year-old would skip class to spy on his own father, not even with someone who wasn’t his mom. I had a hard time stomaching Caleb after that. Unless Anderson was trying to show us that Caleb was a perv, which I know she wasn’t, that bit just was not necessary at all.
Lastly, this isn’t a nitpick so much as a hilarious observation. Toward the end, Sam and Maddie are talking about the possibility of sex, and, trying to ease her self-consciousness, he mentions that his night vision is bad, meaning he wouldn’t be able to see any of the flaws she was so worried about—provided the lights were off. In sympathy, Maddie says it’s hard for her to kneel anymore. Sam says he’ll get a special pillow so it doesn’t hurt. Reading it, I’m cracking up, because I thought they were bantering with tongue-in-cheek. She was laying it on that sex with her wouldn’t be much fun for him; he probably wouldn’t see her naked, and she probably couldn’t…kneel. Then I read: “Sam was content with the nonsexual turn of their conversation.” And I laughed even harder, because Anderson hadn’t realized how that dialogue could sound to a gutter-thinker like me. In my defense, Sam and Maddie were talking about sex, and it wasn’t clear that they had stopped. The most hilarious thing in the book, and it wasn’t supposed to be funny.
As for the characters, the one I felt for most was Maddie. I related to Kirstin a bit regarding the situation with her father, but for the most part, I didn’t really connect with any of them. They were nice enough, but none of them really had arcs except Sam. He went from mean to nice. Classic Grinch arc, appropriate for Christmas. But Maddie didn’t change. She never even told the boys about her cancer. It could be argued that Cam unclenched and took a risk in falling for Kirstin so quickly, but I just think he’s a guy who hadn’t gotten any in a very long time, and Kirstin, who he was really into, was throwing herself at him. Would you really expect him to keep saying no, in this day and age? (In any day and age?) It could be argued Kirstin finally stood up to her dad, but she went right back to tiptoeing around him after, so I wasn’t really impressed. Caleb made some friends. Good for him, but it wasn’t an arc. All he did was buy some new clothes—speaking of, I don’t think Anderson gave his classmates enough credit. There’s always that one genuinely kind, optimistic kid, often classified as a geek or dork, who doesn’t care about appearances and just sees an opportunity to make a friend. Maybe Caleb didn’t make it easy for anyone to befriend him. We didn’t see anything that happened at school, just had Caleb’s word. So they were nice characters, but no one I’ll feel compelled to revisit.
Reading this book was like having a conversation with my grandma. I love the ol’ gal and tell myself, while visiting her might be a chore sometimes, I’ll be able to look back someday and be thankful for the time I’d spent with her. She tells me stories I’ve heard before; she tells me the mundane details of her day-to-day life; she tells me about Grandpa and their life together before he got sick and died. She can ramble on and on. I’m bored and can think of a million other things I’d rather be doing, but I sit at her kitchen table and nod, knowing that telling me about her life is one of her favorite things to do.
For more insight into the story, check out this interview with the author.
