Review of How I Became Santa Clause

[G D H]

When I hear someone mention “humble beginnings,” I think of life being lived as opposed to being lived by life, and the absence of complexes which impede the development of healthy, lasting relationships; I think of the naturalness of feelings of love arising in man for man, beast, and nature and gratitude for life—gratitude, just for being alive; I think of communities, linked by ancestry, sisterhood and brotherhood, and the mutual needs of the people for one another—the need for help that they are not afraid to express, and the object of which they can assuredly expect; I think of Wisdom’s wings outstretched, the books on life’s principles closed and put away—their teachings acted out with finesse by the poor and lowly who may not have the money that the rich have, but possess the richness of life in quantities the richest of the rich may never attain; and I love all that. But when the word “children” is added, that’s when I become ecstasic. If I had all the money in the world, I would be undecided what such a setting needs more: roads and electricity or more drums to swell their songs?

Now add “Santa Claus” to that mix, plus “elves” and “coloured illustration,” and I would have stones everyday for breakfast if my own children do not have access to this book. I can’t say more; I mean, look at your review. It’s flowing so naturally, yet it’s so mesmerising. This book would be a blessing to pick up for any kid, and the obviously colourful narration would keep their heads Santa-filled, and their hearts Santa-smitten for a very long, long time. Thanks so much