'Tis the season, and though Charlie and Billy aren't yet in their Christmas clothes this year, I found myself thinking about the appeal of Christmas romances. I hope you don't groan that it's too early, but they're already hitting the bestseller lists. No other genre creates as many Christmas themed stories. That's my observation, at least. Am I wrong? I think it's because Christmas and romance are so in tune.
I'm not talking about the religious festival, but the social celebration, which is often shared by non-Christians and atheists. It's not an unsullied celebration. Some of us aren't happy with the commercialism, and the whole business of sending cards and buying presents can become a burden. Often on the women of the family, yes? The family gatherings can highlight stresses and open old wounds, or at the least oblige people to behave well around people they don't like. I don't think that's a bad thing. It's the sort of behaviour that keeps the world together.
It's a peak time for suicide, however, especially for the outcasts and lonely, for whom the hype about happy families becomes unbearable.
However, for many of us it is an uplifting time, and romances seem to fit with it.