(Hunter)

Last time we went to the library, Gardener picked up a Christmas book to read. Actually, she's rereading it; I read it a few Christmases ago, and recommended it to her.

The book, Rosamunde Pilcher's Winter Solstice, is a rare find in my seasonal search for good Christmas fiction. Have you noticed that the vast majority of Christmas-themed writing is either "inspirational," romance or murder mystery? None of these genres interests me, which makes my yearly search frustrating. So much so, in fact, that I watch throughout the year for Christmas fiction, noting promising titles on a reading list in my planner, waiting to check them out come next Christmas. Unfortunately, only writers of inspirational, romance and mystery seem interested in writing stories centered around the Christmas season. A few others take a stab at it now and then, but the result is generally so flat that it's obvious to the reader that the author knocked it off for a quick, easy buck. David Baldacci's The Christmas Train leaps to mind: this book had everything I could have wanted in a Christmas book, until the climax, when it all got to be just too ridiculous.

On the other hand, Christopher Moore's The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror was delightfully ridiculous, and I enjoyed it very much. I just read Fannie Flagg's A Redbird Christmas, which is classified as inspirational, but told with great humor, humanity, and a very light touch on the inspirational aspects. Few other examples of Christmas fiction that I've enjoyed leap to mind, other than one bright jewel of a book: Susan Hill's Lanterns Across the Snow. We found a copy of this book, illustrated with exquisite woodcuts by Kathleen Lindsley, for a few bucks at an outlet mall bookstore. We picked it up on a whim in the middle of summer, and that Christmas it took us by storm. We now read it aloud almost every year, along with Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol. It's not an easy task for me, as the very first lines of the preface invariably bring me to tears!

Winter Solstice could be considered a romance. Certainly, it's a romantic story in its way. It is, undoubtedly "chick lit." It appealed to me for its Scottish setting, it's engaging story, and its theme of family ties that go beyond blood, a favorite of mine.

This morning as we prepared our coffee and tea, Gardener and I discussed the book. As we talked, I discovered something about myself that I hadn't realized before. Gardener was referring to characters by name. I'm very bad at remembering the names of characters in books and movies, and had to be reminded of who was whom.

"So, Elfrida was going to . . ."

"I'm sorry—which one is Elfrida again?"

"She's the older woman."

"Oh! Yes—Lynn Redgrave plays her!"

"Did someone make a movie version of this?"

"I don't know, but Lynn Redgrave is Elfrida when I read the book. And Max Von Sydow plays Oscar."

It occurred to me that Max Von Sydow also played The Storyteller in Frank Delaney's Ireland, a book I read and thoroughly enjoyed last spring.

That's when it hit me: Max Von Sydow must be my favorite actor!

I have never bothered to identify my favorite actors or actresses, particularly. I suppose I could figure out my favorites by whose movies I make a point of seeing. It's a short list; if you'd asked before today, I'd probably have mentioned Alan Rickman and Sandra Bullock, although both of them have appeared in movies I've not seen yet, and aren't anywhere on my Netflix list at the moment. But now I see that in the movies in my mind, the ones that play as I read books, Mr. Von Sydow is a member of the cast almost every time an older gentleman is cast. The funny thing is, most of the time I don't substitute actors for characters in books. If the author provides an adequate description of a character, that's the person I see. That makes it harder to watch movies made from books I've read, as the actors chosen for the roles rarely match my imagination. Max Von Sydow, it would appear, does. Certainly, his is the voice I like to hear speaking the character's words in my head.

I've enjoyed Max Von Sydow in movies from The Seventh Seal to Snow Falling on Cedars, and many, many others. But apparently my favorite movies of his are the ones that play in my own mind. How does one express that in a fan letter, I wonder?