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Christmas at The New Yorker: Stories, Poems, Humor, and Art [NOOK Book]


From the pages of America?s most in?uential magazine come eight decades of holiday cheer?plus the occasional comical coal in the stocking?in one incomparable collection. Sublime and ridiculous, sentimental and searing, Christmas at The New Yorker is a gift of great writing and drawing by literary legends and laugh-out-loud cartoonists.

Here are seasonal stories, poems, memoirs, and more, including such classics as John Cheever?s 1949 story ...
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Christmas at The New Yorker: Stories, Poems, Humor, and Art

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From the pages of America’s most influential magazine come eight decades of holiday cheer—plus the occasional comical coal in the stocking—in one incomparable collection. Sublime and ridiculous, sentimental and searing, Christmas at The New Yorker is a gift of great writing and drawing by literary legends and laugh-out-loud cartoonists.

Here are seasonal stories, poems, memoirs, and more, including such classics as John Cheever’s 1949 story “Christmas Is a Sad Season for the Poor,” about an elevator operator in a Park Avenue apartment building who experiences the fickle power of charity; John Updike’s “The Carol Sing,” in which a group of small-town carolers remember an exceptionally enthusiastic fellow singer (“How he would jubilate, how he would God-rest those merry gentlemen, how he would boom out when the male voices became King Wenceslas”); and Richard Ford’s acerbic and elegiac 1998 story “Crèche,” in which an unmarried Hollywood lawyer spends an unsettling holiday with her sister’s estranged husband and kids.

Here, too, are S. J. Perelman’s 1936 “Waiting for Santy,” a playlet in the style of Clifford Odets labor drama (the setting: “The sweatshop of Santa Claus, North Pole”), and Vladimir Nabokov’s heartbreaking 1975 story “Christ-mas,” in which a father grieving for his lost son in a world “ghastly with sadness” sees a tiny miracle on Christmas Eve.

And it wouldn’t be Christmas—or The New Yorker—without dozens of covers and cartoons by Addams, Arno, Chast, and others, or the mischievous verse of Roger Angell, Calvin Trillin, and Ogden Nash (“Do you know Mrs. Millard Fillmore Revere?/On her calendar, Christmas comes three hundred and sixty-five times a year”).

From Jazz Age to New Age, E. B. White to Garrison Keillor, these works represent eighty years of wonderful keepsakes for Christmas, from The New Yorker to you.

From the Hardcover edition.
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Editorial Reviews

Library Journal
Vladimir Nabokov, John Cheever, E.B. White, and Alice Munro are just a sampling of the many impressive authors who have contributed holiday writing to The New Yorker over the past 75 years, and they are well represented in this collection of holiday stories, poems, and humor. Organized into eight sections covering topics like family matters, Christmas carols, and the spirit of giving, the diverse pieces range from Nabokov's "Christmas" to Garrison Keillor's "A Christmas Story" and reflect the various moods indicative of the season. In Peter de Vries's "Flesh and the Devil," the main character, Frisbie, realizes that he has made a terrible mistake by telling his wife about kissing (and nearly bedding) a colleague after the office Christmas party. Instead of being lauded for his honesty, he is scolded and regrets being so candid. John Updike's "The Twelve Terrors of Christmas" is a laugh-out-loud meditation on Santa Claus ("If he's such a big shot, why is he drawing unemployment for 11 months of the year?"). Cartoons and images from The New Yorker holiday covers add a touch of whimsy. A nice addition for public libraries, whether or not they subscribe to The New Yorker, this is also a good choice for smaller academic libraries with more browseable collections.-Valeda Frances Dent, Hunter Coll. Lib., New York Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information.
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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780307482914
  • Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 6/10/2009
  • Sold by: Random House
  • Format: eBook
  • Pages: 320
  • Sales rank: 268,394
  • File size: 20 MB
  • Note: This product may take a few minutes to download.

Read an Excerpt

christmas in qatar
calvin trillin

(A new holiday classic, for those tiring of "White Christmas" and "Jingle Bells")

The shopping starts, and every store's a zoo.
I'm frantic, too: I haven't got a clue
Of what to get for Dad, who's got no hobby,
Or why Aunt Jane, who's shaped like a kohlrabi,
Wants frilly sweater sets, or where I'll .nd
A tie my loudmouthed Uncle Jack won't mind.
A shopper's told it's vital he prevails:
Prosperity depends on Christmas sales.
"Can't stop to talk," I say. "No time. Can't halt.
Economy could fail. Would be my fault."

I'd like to spend next Christmas in Qatar,
Or someplace else that Santa won't .nd handy.
Qatar will do, although, Lord knows, it's sandy.
I need to get to someplace pretty far.
I'd like to spend next Christmas in Qatar.

Young Cousin Ned, his presents on his knees,
Says Christmas wrappings are a waste of trees.
Dad's staring, vaguely puzzled, at his gift.
And Uncle Jack, to give us all a lift,
Now tells a Polish joke he heard at work.
So Ned calls Jack a bigot and a jerk.
Aunt Jane, who knows that's true, breaks down and cries.
Then Mom comes out to help, and burns the pies.
Of course, Jack hates the tie. He'll take it back.
That's fair, because I hate my Uncle Jack.
I'd like to spend next Christmas in Tibet,
Or any place where folks cannot remember
That there is something special in December.
Tibet's about as far as you can get.
I'd like to spend next Christmas in Tibet.

Mom's turkey is a patriotic riddle:
It's red and white, plus bluish in the middle.
The blue's because the oven heat's not stable.
The red's from ketchup Dad snuck to the table.
Dad says he loves the eyeglass stand from me-
Unless a sock rack's what it's meant to be.
"A free-range turkey's best," Ned says. "It's pure."
"This hippie stuff," Jack says, "I can't endure."
They say goodbye, thank God. It's been a strain.
At least Jack's tie has got a ketchup stain.

I'd like to spend next Christmas in Rangoon,
Or any place where Christmas is as noisy
As Buddhist holidays might be in Boise.
I long to hear Der Bingle smoothly croon,
"I'm dreaming of a Christmas in Rangoon"-
Or someplace you won't hear the Christmas story,
And reindeer's something eaten cacciatore.
I know things can't go on the way they are.
I'd like to spend next Christmas in Qatar.

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Customer Reviews

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Sort by: Showing all of 3 Customer Reviews
  • Anonymous

    Posted December 22, 2012

    Don't Recomend Buying

    Very disappointed. I used to love reading the "New Yorker" magazine, so I was really looking forward to some interesting stories, but this selection is down right depressing and poorly written in most cases. Where these stories really published in the "New Yorker"? Hard to believe....

    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 25, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

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    Posted April 12, 2011

    No text was provided for this review.

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