The vast majority of children's books on Christmas themes have a very limited life span: they seem unable to avoid being either tacky or twee. Fortunately, however, each year manages to produce a small number likely to last beyond the wrapping and the tinsel, and one or two of these are sufficiently attractive to be a source of pleasure all year round.
Easily the most appealing of this year's Christmas selection is John Speirs's The Little Boy's Christmas Gift (Abrams, £11.95 in UK), in which we follow a little boy carrying a small brown bag as he in turn follows the three wise men and their growing entourage on their way with their gifts to "a humble stable". With illustrations inspired by 15th- and 16th-century Dutch art and embellished by the use of gold leaf effects, this is a splendidly rich tribute to the original Christmas story, giving each of the full-page pictures the authentic feel of an illuminated manuscript.
There is something of the same opulence of presentation in Arthur Scholey's retelling of a classic Russian Christmas tale in Baboushka (Lion, £9.99 in UK), with appropriately colourful and folkloric illustrations by Helen Cann. The talents of Scholes and Cann combine in a poignant version of this timeless story about the old peasant woman, basket of toys in hand, fated to wander the earth in search of the Christ-child: her fluctuating emotions are skilfully caught in the cadences of the prose and, even more strikingly perhaps, in Cann's pictures, many of them rich in symbolic detail.
The sadness of Baboushka's experiences gives way, in Alan MacDonald's The Not-So-Wise Man (Lion, £4.99 in UK), to wit and humour. This is the tale of Ashtar, allegedly "the wisest in the land", whose erudition paradoxically blinds him to the truth of the Christmas story even as its details are played out in front of his eyes. Although he is "none the wiser" as he returns home from his largely pointless journey, the details of the narrative (and of Andrew Rowland's mischievous cartoon-style illustrations) point the reader towards an understanding of what real wisdom is.
Clement C. Moore's early 19th-century poem The Night Before Christmas has by now attained classic status and this year has returned in a magnificent reissue of the 1995 version by Christian Birmingham (Collins, £12.99 in UK). Few pieces of writing have so well succeeded in conveying the mood of anticipation which characterises Christmas Eve, and Birmingham's marvellously evocative pictures, whether of interiors or exteriors, catch the atmosphere perfectly. While the details of his interpretation suggest the poem's period origins, the final impression is of a story transcending time and place. (A "miniature edition", at £3.99 in UK), is also available.)
Another American poem, this time by e.e. cummings, serves as starting point for Mary Claire Smith's little tree (Thorsons, £4.99 in UK). Here, a "little silent Christmas tree" is rescued from its loneliness, brought into the warmth and becomes the focal point of a family's celebrations. It is a delicate, wistful parable of welcome, acceptance and shared joy, all of these being subtly implied in Smith's minimalist brush strokes. Again, as with the Birmingham illustrations above, there is an engaging balance between exterior and interior scenes, between icy silence and "the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads" of indoor festivities.
From the traditional family and Christmas images which dominate these books we move, in Roddy Doyle's Rover Saves Christmas (Scholastic, £9.99 in UK), to more contemporary and more chaotic themes. When Rudolph, because of illness, is unable to discharge his usual Christmas duties, Rover the dog steps in - with consequences which take the reader on a whirlwind world tour, often very funny in its detail very clever in its literary references. ("The sugar was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain . . .") But, jokes apart, the essence of Doyle's story is its reminder that a real appreciation of the Christmas spirit demands an unquestioning acceptance of its magic, which, as he says, "can never be explained" - not even, one might add, in the most beautifully produced of children's Christmas books.
Robert Dunbar lectures in English in the Church of Ireland College of Education, Dublin