So there’s a novel that I had to read back in my high school days called “Bonheur D’Occasion” by Gabrielle Roy. The English title is “The Tin Flute”; I don’t recall that there was actually a tin flute in the story, but rather at one point a character makes a mental comparison between some event in her life and the feeling you have upon receiving a tin flute at Christmas. It seems like such a great idea beforehand, but then when you get it you’re no longer sure why you wanted it.
And I, staring blankly at my computer screen, thought that it would make a nice morose comment on Christmas in general if I could hunt down that passage and blog it. Unfortunately, it seems that the Internet is not a good source for the full text of Canadian novels from the last fifty years, because a quick Goggling didn’t turn it up. And I’m too lazy to try and hunt down the actual physical text of the English translation right now. But it’s the thought that counts, right?
Contrary to what this might lead you to believe, I’m not actually feeling morose about Christmas or anything. I just thought that it would make an interesting comment.