John S. Goodall (1908–1996)

I was completely charmed by this wordless book that delivers what the title promises. Each page is a beautiful painting depicting Christmas preparations and celebrations in the first decade of the 20th century. A perfect way to enjoy the nostalgia and wonder of an old-fashioned Christmas.

Sublime perfection in the form of a wordless picture book. The sensation is that of eavesdropping on a child's dream. The gorgeous landscape shifts rapidly, characters experience joy, then, heartache, then terror in the turn of a page, but all comes right in the end, though, we, readers, may well close the book with that familiar aching longing that comes with waking from a particularly vivid dream.

What a sweet tiny treasure. Little hands can snuggle it, and little people can 'read' it themselves. Unfortunate, though, that bats are equated with monsters.

Could be a sweet tiny treasure. Little hands can snuggle it, and little people can 'read' it themselves.

But I don't like the continuity error in the middle, and I don't like not knowing if the male mouse who rescues Shrewbettina in the beginning is the same one she dances with at her party, and I think it odd that she sweats and slaves to prepare for her own birthday celebration.