Hey-oh, I wanna pretend we're at the North Pole / Turning the heat into an ice-cold holiday / Made just for me and my baby (Winter Things – Ariana Grande).
Ugh. Let me just get this out of the way, I think this book is totally fine and that a lot of people will love it and blah blah blah. Unfortunately, it seems that I was just never going to be one of those people, and honestly? I’m kind of in a bad mood due to the fact that this is the third "kind of bad" read in a row and I’m totally going to be a Sensitive Sally all throughout this entire review. I'm just saying, my Plumbob totally turned red every time my looming library due date forced me to pick this back up. I'll just set the scene, after finally reaching the end of this book and blissfully reading the "afterwords" section where the author said that she'd stopped writing super detailed and expansive fantasy to pivot into whatever this book's genre is, I can't lie that it made me a little forlorn for what could have been. Like, I would like to read this author's more serious fantasy please, because of all the issues I had with this book, the writing wasn't one of them. The thing is, I’ve always had a lot of little nitpicks in general about certain tropes in books where I won't like this bit or I won't like that bit, but it just so happened that all of them coalesced into a book called The Nightmare Before Kissmas. Something something perfect storm or whatever. Firstly, the pun title… not really my thing and that’s fine, but the word “kissmas?” Really not my thing. I don’t know, I just think it’s corny. Secondly, I’m not big into holiday reads. I know, we've got a real Scrooge over here (Ebenezer or McDuck), but don't worry, at least I’m not that guy who's always like, “Hey guys, did you know that Die Hard is a Christmas movie!? Isn’t that craa~aazy!?” I mean, I do like stories that take place during Christmas, just maybe not stories about Christmas. You know, with the messages and the meanings. Bleh. But more than that, I’m not interested at all in “takes” on Christmas stories. For example, it's like whenever an author looks at something that’s in the public conscience, the zeitgeist, if you will, and is all like, “ah, but here’s my interpretation on this well-known thing!” This happened most recently with that movie Red Notice... no... Red One, starring The Rock (who’s a weirdo) and Chris Evans (who might have the worst filmography known to man) about how the North Pole is run like the C.I.A. or something? I don’t know because I haven’t seen it, and I never will. Hopefully I don’t sound too harsh here… but it literally looks like the biggest steaming pile of… okay, you get it. It looks awful. Classics are classic for a reason.
This is all my roundabout way of saying that I didn’t like how The Nightmare Before Kissmas was literally about, like, the son of Santa Claus? I’m sorry, but I’m not sure if I can even properly articulate how uninteresting that concept sounds to me. “Okay, we’ve got all a bunch of characters representing all the different holidays like a Halloween Prince and someone who represents Easter! Isn’t that FUN?” Sorry, but no… that doesn’t sound fun. Also, someone representing Easter? Wouldn’t that just be Jesus? Well, I’m not getting into that particular theological discussion. Oh wait! The Easter Bunny!! I totally forgot the Easter Bunny existed!!!! I'm so quirky! Pretend I didn’t say anything. I know that this is mostly my fault because I just saw the adorable cover and clicked "borrow" on my library website before doing any kind of research into what exactly this book was... but you know, I figured it'd be a cute contemporary fantasy like Otherworldly by F.T. Lukens rather than being about homophobic Santa and the corrupt system he's got going on a the North Pole. Which leads me to my next problem with this book; the fact that the main question behind this book is all like, “Hey, weren’t you wondering what would happen if Santa was a shitty father?” and I can’t honestly say that I was. Never crossed my mind, to be honest. And look, I know that whenever someone says “I’m not offended,” they’re the most offended they've ever been in their life, but I mean, it’s not like I’m offended at the thought that somebody would find the morality of Santa Claus to be a good premise for a book. I'm not going to clutch my pearls and I don't need the sanctity of Christmas to be upheld by keeping portrayals of Santa strictly on the line or whatever. How he only gives presents to rich kids or just the fact that he gives out coal to "bad" kids... he sucks, I get it, this isn't a hill I'd die on, I just think it's a pretty funny concept to try to explore in any depth. It feels like a "shower thought," you know? "Oh my God! Don't you guys think Santa is shitty, actually?" Besides, it’s not like turning beloved characters who are supposed to be beacons of hope into terrible fathers is a new thing with writers, just look at Avatar: Legend of Korra, where everybody’s favorite happy-go-lucky protagonist, Aang, turned out to be a jaded, overly serious, and neglectful father in his adult life. It’s whatever, but I always think it’s interesting how it seems like authors are never interested in writing a "good" dad character, like it’s unfathomable to them.
Anyway, all in all, the real lesson here is that I really need to stop reading books that proudly compare themselves to Red, White, and Royal Blue, not only because I have to add the Oxford Comma in there every time I talk about it, but also because I did not like that book. Gasp! I know and I'm sorry!! I think that sometimes there are a few books out there that are so popular and beloved (in the public zeitgeist, if you will) that I trick my brain into thinking that somehow I liked them as well, even when I know damn well I didn’t. It's kind of weird, I know. I've literally never talked about this book before, but I think the worst book I've ever read was called Playing the Palace, and the truth is that if I ever come across anything with royals in a contemporary setting, my opinion will always range from indifference to pure unadulterated hatred. Hey, at least The Nightmare Before Kissmas had the benefit of having fictional royalty, so the disgust was tempered to the point where I could focus on other things I didn't like. Yay! I had this dream a couple days ago (this is my dream journal now) where I met Ryan Reynolds (a man who is known for quite possibly having the worst filmography ever known to man), and instead of geeking out, I simply asked him how Deadpool 5 was coming along, and proceeded to laugh so hard that it woke me up. Man, dream me sure knows how to put together a devastating burn, so much so that I immediately had to write it down to save it for later! Just kidding, instead I spent the next couple minutes scratching my head as to why I found that so funny? I think it’s because he’s such a limited actor that every role he’s played since the first Deadpool has just been… Deadpool. And my point is that I feel like a lot of these contemporary romance books are all starting to feel this way; the same quirky, Tom Holland ass “Um… oh! Erm... ack! What even was that” ass dialogue with the same easily digestible themes that are factory-made to go down easy. Maybe that’s too mean, and I know that the best way for me to escape the vaguely generic direction every one of these books is going down is just for me to stop reading them altogether, and I might! But it’s still a sad thought, though. This stuff used to be my bread and butter, my peanut butter and jelly! Oh well. So, why did I even give The Nightmare Before Kissmas a shot despite everything about it being something I inherently dislike in a book? Um well, other than the fact that it was available at my library, I guess I’m just too much of a Curious Casey and just needed to see for myself. And I saw, oh, I saw!
“I wanted you to be better. Now, I’ll just be better for you.”