Books

I’ve Come Over All Christmasy…

It’s (almost) that time of year again, when the entire Western world embarks upon a huge sweaty orgy of buying and selling, and we all demand to have our stockings well and truly stuffed. When having fun is mandatory, and rapidly-sobering revellers are admitted to A&E Departments after attempting injudiciously ambitious dance moves at office parties. It’s…

No, wait! There’s no way I can say it as well as this gentleman:

Let the Festive foolishness begin!

I try to hate Christmas, I really do. I fulminate against the crass commercialism of it all, at the way a jolly Midwinter festival has been hijacked by the crazed forces of global hyper-Capitalism. But the moment I see a twinkly Christmas tree or hear the strains of Jingle Bell Rock, all is in vain. Sooner or later, my inner Scrooge always gets socked in the mouth by my inner six-year-old.

He's not going down without a fight, though...
He’s not going down without a fight, though…

Someone – it might have been my inner six-year-old, come to think of it – once told me that I really ought to lighten up a bit. I was outraged for a moment, but then I found myself wondering if that person might have had a point. Is a little bit of fun and frivolity really so bad? Do we have to take things obsessively seriously all the bleedin’ time?

In fiction, let it be said, I tend to wander around somewhere on the dark side. Not on the really dark side, just in a sort of murky, foggy zone where there are no real heroes or villains, and where everyone and everything is sort of ambiguous. This fits in with my experience of the world so far. I’m convinced that there really aren’t many people out there who are either truly good or truly bad. In my experience, people are truly complicated. The same person can be both kind and cruel, sometimes simultaneously.

Sometimes, I wander out of that zone, and shuffle forward, blinking, into the light. Not radiant, uncomplicated light, exactly – that would shrivel my gothic heart and strike me dead – but into a world where most people, though still ambiguous, are rather more kind than cruel. It’s a world where not everyone is hiding some hideous secret (though some people are), and people at least attempt to get along. A world where Christmas can truly be a time of great peace and joy, at least as soon as you’ve escaped from the maniac who was trying to kill you…

That last bit probably doesn’t make much sense to you. It soon may, at least if you follow me to the end of this post. If the preceding paragraph has induced a bout of Exorcist-style projectile vomiting in you, on the other hand, it’s probably better for your own sanity if you don’t read any further. A little musical interlude follows, to allow you time to run screaming from this post.

Still here? Well, you have been warned. Let us proceed.

I’ve written a book, you see. Nothing odd about that, since writing books, or at least attempting to write them, is what it’s all about in my world. Most of those books, let it be said, never make it out into the big wide world; they either die prematurely or are strangled at birth, usually as an act of mercy. Every so often, though, one of them manages to escape, which is just what this ‘ere book has done.

And here it is.
And here it is.

Perhaps I just overlooked it. It’s a slender little book, a mere 32,000 words or so. And it’s fun (well, I think it is, anyway). It’s not really that serious. It’s The Famous Five for grown-ups. Yup, it’s like Anne from the Famous Five grew up, got married, got divorced, took up journalism and got into a hair-raising adventure as a result of her tiresome busybody snooping determined quest for the truth. Make of that what you will. Some of you may be itching to slap me. Sorry.

Anyway, it being Christmas (almost) I’m running a special offer. If you fancy reading The Famous Five for grown-ups – think Five Have a Jolly Spine-chilling Christmas and you’re getting close – Wintergreen is currently available on Amazon, free for Kindle Unlimited subscribers and 99c/99p to buy. Or I can send out review copies to anyone who fancies one and is willing to put together an honest write-up for Amazon and/or Goodreads: please send me an email at info@maribiella.com.

In any case, have a very Merry Christmas, and a prosperous New Year!

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11 thoughts on “I’ve Come Over All Christmasy…

  1. ‘Yikes, Smashing!” yelled Lucinda. “Let’s all go for a jolly romp/snoop with Mari n the woods.”
    Julian objected, ‘I say, Father said we shouldn’t go into the woods because of nasty vagabonds and people lke that and we always get into trouble every hols as it is.”
    “What did Mummy say?” asked Anne.
    “Nothing; she always agrees with Father,” Julian said.
    “Well, I’ vote we go,” said Dick (who is, of course, a girl with short hair and a boy’s name)
    Timmy the dog barked, ‘If we don’t go, those little beasts the Secret Seven will, and lord it over us and get a reward of chocolate buns from Cook and more tuck money.”
    “That settles it,” they all agreed.
    Seriously, I’ve started reading ‘Wintergreen’ and I love it. Mari is being too modest, as ever.

  2. Thanks, Mari; and yours is far from an ‘Enid Blyton’ type read. But I’ve just realised, the tomboy was known as ‘Geroge’ not Dick, I think that was the other one; so I’d have to get the names right, first…

  3. Hi fellow book lover! I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed reading your post! To say it is great (not just this post, all of yours!) is an understatement. You are really talented (:
    Because of how much I loved this post I had to check out your blog and I couldn’t help but follow you because your blog is both amazing and beautiful! I am so happy I came across your blog and I can’t wait to read more from you, keep it up (:
    By the way this comment is towards all of your blog posts because they are all equally amazing and incredible (:

  4. Congratulations, Mari! I’ve ordered my copy of Wintergreen, and I look forward to reading it. I always love your work, and I’m thrilled to have another of your ‘babies’ on my Kindle.

    Merry Christmas,

    -aniko

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