Can a literary anthology, however erudite, amusing or comforting, really help dull the pain of Christmas? This is a superb example of the genre, with all the usual traditional fare rubbing shoulders with mystery plays, snazzy little poems and a bit of Jilly Cooper; and such is the dazzling quality of the writing, and the cleverness of the selection, that even this reviewer - who detests Christmas with a vehemence that makes Scrooge seem like a kindly old buffer - is reconciled to it for the duration.
But as to whether it can blot out the appalling muzak, frantic crowds and general silliness of the season in the real world, well, I'll carry it around with me for the rest of the month and let you know next year. After all, there are only another thirteen months to go.
