More Holiday Advice: Humiliating Deaths, Puttanesca, and Italian Literature (Guest Blogger: Lemony Snicket)
The sled dogs have returned with the latest of Mr. Lemony Snicket's replies to your questions. We still must endure his holiday visits for two more Tuesdays, so please keep adding your questions in the comments below.
Dear Mr. Snicket: I have recently met a most wonderful young man, and we have determined to marry. My family, however, has deemed him unsuitable, a word which here means "the young son of a rival family, whom we have vowed to murder for the slightest of offenses." Though we have known each other only a short while--less than 24 hours, in fact--we are deeply in love and wish to gain the blessing of our families. As the holiday season fast approaches, how can we declare our love and bury our parents' strife? With sincere thanks,
--Juliet
Dear Juliet: When choosing to model one's life on a work of literature, one must choose carefully. Romeo and Juliet, for instance, begins rather romantically, with two young people having the dual pleasures of first love and rebelling against one's family, but eventually ends in a series of humiliating deaths via miscommunication, which is why everyone in the audience is fidgeting by the end of the performance. Consider instead the model of Kevin Henkes's recent novel Bird Lake Moon, in which all of the misunderstandings happen at the beginning and then are carefully unravelled, the better for a friendship to blossom. It is also a short book, although I do not necessarily recommend trimming your lifespan accordingly.
Dear Mr. Snicket: I must first admit I am a tremendous fan of your aptly titled "Series of Unfortunate Events," firstly, because the Baudelaire recipe for puttanesca is unparalleled, a word which here means far superior to any other puttanesca recipes to be found in un-unfortunate books; secondly, because my various family members often acquire the less savoury traits of Count Olaf during the holiday season. Do you have any suggestions for surviving this month of familial cruelty?
--Saturnine in Seattle
Dear Saturnine: I find your letter alarming, flattering, and puzzling, in that order: alarming that you have been reading my dreadful books, flattering that you find the Baudelaires' recipe for puttanesca to be useful, and puzzling that you find this month so troubling. Personally I have always found the Hanukah season to be a cheering one. As Hanukah is a minor holiday, there is no need to make much fuss: a few candles, a latke or two, and a little spinning-top-based gambling will do the trick, and on the 25th of December you can hole up and simmer a puttanesca sauce for hours while reading Italian literature, such as Cesare Pavese's Disaffections or Dino Buzzati's The Bears' Famous Invasion of Sicily, while the rest of the world finds themselves embroiled in family melodramas and an overabundance of capitalist indulgence.
I am, of course, assuming that you participate in the cultural tradition of Hankuah, rather than one of those other holidays that fall at the same time as Hanukah. Your enthusiasm for food marks you as somewhat unusual in the Gentile world.
Dear Mr. Snicket: I was anxiously anticipating the opportunity to meet you, Mr. Snicket, at a recent literary event, but was instead greeted by an accordionist who said you were ill. Who was this handsome accordionist? And are you feeling better?
--Still Available in San Fernando
Dear Still Available: As with many people who were closely following the recent election, I have recently regained a healthy sense of confidence and justice. My representative is the novelist Daniel Handler, and he is happily married, although I'm sure he would appreciate your admiration of what is admittedly a gorgeous physique.
Ben on December 10, 2008 at 06:30 PM
Dear Mr. Snicket,
Thank you for so many interesting answers to these questions. Mine is this: why are so many delicious foods eaten only around the holidays, when they would be just as tasty year-round? Some examples include candy canes, eggnog, latkes, and marzipan.
Thank you for your response. I am a big fan.