Today’s Desk Notes has been trimmed and sliced for the holiday. But first there are three short announcements:
First, thank you for all the comments, thoughts, and questions this year. They are always appreciated and I’m pleased to see that more people are finding these updates valuable.
Second, Desk Notes is taking a short holiday next week, a time to consolidate the year, to absorb what’s happened, what’s been seen, what’s been read, what’s been thought. I have some larger projects planned for the new year, but the desk needs a good scrubbing first. The next update arrives on January 8th.
Third, In the meantime, feel free to look through past issues here: www.charles-schifano.com
If any author can claim late December, that’s certainly Charles Dickens. Yet the imagery and feel and storylines associated with his name result from an intriguing coincidence: the decade that stands as the coldest and snowiest over the last four hundred years in England just happens to overlap with his childhood. The River Thames froze multiple times, on Christmas it snowed almost every year, and there were unseasonably frigid temperatures. Thus the unusual Dickens childhood has become a symbol for something that doesn’t much happen—snow in London on Christmas. At most, it’s occurred about half a dozen times over the last fifty years. So Dickens can be credited with the odd feat of convincing the world to adopt his atypical childhood weather as typical for Christmas in London.
There are many social, political, and cultural aspects of his novels worth studying, but, for today, I’m going to stick to the first line of George Orwell’s essay about his work—“Dickens is one of those writers who are well worth stealing”—and leave an excerpt from The Battle of Life, fitting for Christmas Day, regardless of the weather.
There was a frosty rime upon the trees, which, in the faint light of the clouded moon, hung upon the smaller branches like dead garlands. Withered leaves crackled and snapped beneath his feet, as he crept softly on towards the house. The desolation of a winter night sat brooding on the earth, and in the sky. But, the red light came cheerily towards him from the windows; figures passed and repassed there; and the hum and murmur of voices greeted his ear sweetly.
Who writes Desk Notes?
If you are just joining, I’m Charles Schifano, and I’m a writer and teacher. I teach writing, the English language, and narrative technique. My group lectures focus on journalism and fiction.
Have a nice holiday and Merry Christmas. The next Desk Notes arrives on January 8th.