This One’s Got Legs – 19 December 2025

At this time of year I have noticed that, rather than legs, people place chocolate, oranges and chocolate shaped like oranges in their stockings. Assuming that your legs are sufficiently warm, may I recommend some little books with which to fill your stockings. Or other people’s, assuming that they are OK with that.

For those who start Christmas as boldly as they mean to go on, with pancakes, smoked salmon and platters of fried things, Last Night at the Lobster by Stewart O’Nan is a beautiful novel about the last day of a restaurant set to close on 20^th December (so, yes, now is the perfect time to read it, and you have time before popping it into someone else’s legwear). Manny is determined to manage this last shift at The Red Lobster as artfully and obsessively as every other; the rest of the staff, rivalries and romance included, have different ideas, if they show up at all.*

Stewart O’Nan has another poignant and poised novel coming out in two weeks’ time, Evensong. It follows a group of elderly bridge players helping everyone in their ageing community, even as they themselves suffer falls, memory loss and the loss of dexterity when dealing cards. More on that soon. For now I’m keeping it up my sleeve and bidding two no trumps.

For those starting the day in a refined manner – deux macarons et un verre de champagne peut-être – French Cooking for Two by Michèle Roberts draws together delicious recipes with literary and historical notes, encouraging simple and jovial feasting. If you are planning a trip across the channel, all of the most important vocabulary is covered from les broccolis maître d’hôtel to la glace aux figues. To all of which please add Calvados (translation: Calvados).

Those in need of some quiet will be relieved to hear that French Cooking for One is also available. Everything Michèle Roberts suggests involving les marrons sounds yummy. And you don’t have to share.

If you’re holding a martini (and why wouldn’t you be?) Katherine Mansfield’s A Dill Pickle makes an excellent accompaniment.** Two people meet by chance after not seeing one another for six years and the past becomes present and they say entirely the wrong yet also the right things. A tart masterpiece.

Those heading out foraging or gathering herbs from gardens and window boxes to prepare the roast, will enjoy the Little Wild Library series by Clare Gogerty, offering things to do with plants like Elder, Hawthorn, Dandelion and Wild Rose. And, if they like that sort of thing, they ought also to take a break and read the perfect novella, Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner. If you don’t already know, you will see why… Aim for the new year: be more Lolly.

The connoisseur – the sort of person whose stocking is hand-stitched and who won’t get out of bed for anything less than a Pierre Hermé truffle – will appreciate the genius and the exquisite beauty of Silver Press’ petite essays.

Quantum Listening by Pauline Oliveros is the composer’s manifesto for how to listen – to music and to life in general. Her theory leads to a meditative practice and a deeply philosophical work. Please turn off Wham! while reading (and keep it off).

The Gender of Sound by Anne Carson explores sound and voice, responses to higher-pitches and noises considered feminine or suggestive of hysteria, and the development of the monstrous…  

The Site of Memory by Toni Morrison does nothing less than show in one short essay the possibilities and power of writing novels to explore grief, slavery, ethics and history while Total Eclipse by Annie Dillard asks about the limitations of our perception and language, prompted by her extraordinary experience witnessing a solar eclipse: ‘It began with no ado,’ she writes, ‘I should have known right then that I was out of my depth.’

In all the chaos, those who need some alone time could signal this by finding a quiet corner to read Hell by Dante or Coal by Audre Lorde. I can think of no better poetry at this time of year than passing through the gates of hell and into passion and rage…

Were I to be filling stockings or providing reading material at the Christmas table (cracker jokes notwithstanding) I’d give everyone a copy of Things That Disappear by Jenny Erpenbeck, a series of short, linked essays on the disappearance of buildings, friendships, Splitterbrötchen (you’ll find out) and memory. It is really very special, even or especially when she is writing about cheese going missing from the fridge.

Apparently some people don’t get much reading time on Christmas Day itself. If this is due to a commotion of children who need entertaining then please Start With A Teapot. Enric Lax’s approach to art and ideas for drawing is outstanding. How do you draw an owl? you may ask. Well, start with a bicycle. Trust him.

If the stockings are full, now is the time to discover the power of pockets. They can be filled with a remarkable range of things, as is clear from The Dress with 100 Pockets by Lily Murray, illustrated by Jenny Løvlie, a follow up to an old favourite of ours. Frankly if you’re not walking around with pockets stuffed with snacks, mittens, hats and a frog I’m not sure what you’re doing.

Killing Time is not a thing with which we are really familiar except where concerned with Alan Bennett’s delightful, funny and surprising novella. But we are going to take a couple of days off: we are closed on Christmas Day and Boxing Day. Otherwise here as usual (for ‘as usual’, read ‘a little tipsy due to brandy-filled fruit cake’) and having a rather lovely time. Thank you for all your support, your book recommendations, your Brussels sprout recipes, your kind patience while we unpack the towers of boxes and build a fort and apologies to the person who left a giant Toblerone in the shop. I really thought it was for me.

May your weekend be as festive as you can bear and your stockings be filled to the welt,
Lizzie

*To the gentleman who insisted that I read this and lent me his copy, I owe you a lobster.
**Also pairs well with twiglets. In case anyone is wondering. (Father, that’s your cue.)