
Last night, I was discussing the awfulness that is Skipping Christmas, and I Googled it and came across Bill Peschel's great review of the book. It looks at Skipping Christmas in a way that I had never before considered: as an Objectivist holiday fable. Whether Peschel is right or not about Grisham's Ayn Randian intentions, he correctly points out the real horror of the book. Much of Skipping Christmas consists of the main characters worrying about their daughter's fiancee being too brown because he is from Peru. Luther and Nora can't bear the thought of Enrique's grubby brown hands on their daughter:
"Don't Peruvians have dark skin?" he asked.Nora froze for a second. They stared at each other, then both looked away.
"I guess it doesn't matter now," she said.
"She's not really getting married, is she?" Luther said, in disbelief.
...and that's not all from the joy-master Grisham. The Kranks' fears about a dark-skinned Peruvian marrying into the family and polluting the blood line prove false. It turns out that he is a) a doctor; b) capable of speaking English; c) educated in London; and d) well, to quote the book:
Nora and Luther both glanced at her first, then quickly looked beyond to see how dark Enrique was. He wasn't dark at all! At least two shades lighter than Luther himself!
Ho, ho, ho! A white Christmas in every sense of the word! In conclusion, fuck John Grisham and especially fuck Skipping Christmas. I will now put this book away for 2009, until I drag out my hatred next year, like a particularly ragged piece of garland. Hating Skipping Christmas has practically become a Yuletide tradition for me.
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