‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, except for one Really Rich Old Dude;
His recently be-damned and be-shackled ghost of a business partner;
An ephemeral being seemingly made of candlelight;
A jolly ol’ holiday figure with a great big beard—no, not that one—
And the two little urchins who hang out under his robes (???);
A hooded specter much akin to the classical image of Death;
And probably a mouse or two, because it’s 1843 and sanitation
Back then was not great, let’s be honest here.
Stockings? Not hung.
Children? Not nestled.
Sugar plums? Not envisioned.
Mamma? Not ‘kerchiefed. In fact, there is no Mamma because the Really Rich Old Dude never got married (more on that later).
It’s probably clear by now that we are not talking about “A Visit from St. Nicholas”, but the other classic Victorian Christmas story that everybody knows: A Christmas Carol.
The Book
A Christmas Carol. In Prose. Being a Ghost Story of Christmas,* by Charles Dickens (Chapman & Hall, 1843)
*To answer your questions: yes, that is its official title; and no, I will not be typing all of that out every time.
The Numbers
Probably the most famous Christmas story of all time that doesn’t include Jesus himself; one of the most adapted works in all of English literature, with stage performances appearing as early as 1844, film versions beginning in 1901, audio plays produced from 1923, and television adaptations starting from 1943, as well as at least six operas, four ballets, more than a dozen comic books and graphic novels (including multiple distinct Batman versions).
Also an endless stream of parodies, satires, and derivative works — oh, and two separate Mega Man fangames? Citation needed; the originator of lexicographical creations such as “Scrooge” and “Bah! Humbug!”, as well as the general festive secular approach that most of the English-speaking world takes towards Christmas to this day; Goodreads rating of 4.09.
The Spoiler-Free Skinny
I know you don’t really need a plot breakdown of A Christmas Carol. No one needs a plot breakdown of A Christmas Carol. I would be hard-pressed to come up with a story that needs a plot breakdown less than A Christmas Carol. Maybe “The Tortoise and the Hare” or Titanic or something, I don’t know. If you would like to skip this part, go ahead. I won’t be offended.
I must keep going, however. I am contractually obligated to meet my word count include a plot breakdown.
Okay, so we’re in Victorian London, and there’s this really rich d-bag called Ebenezer Scrooge. He’s got more money than God, spends basically none of it, and works his sole employee, Bob Cratchit, to the bone. He refuses to go to his nephew’s house for dinner, berates two dudes collecting for a local charity, and complains about having to give Bob a vacation day on Christmas so the poor bastard can hang out with his son, Tiny Tim, who is perpetually on death’s door. Nobody likes this guy.
Scrooge goes home on Christmas Eve and is visited by the ghost of his dead business partner, Jacob Marley, who is loaded down with heavy chains and moneyboxes for all of eternity because he was also a really rich d-bag when he was alive. He brings Scrooge a warning: listen to the three (3) spirits that are going to visit him, or be condemned to an even worse fate than Marley.
Three (3) spirits do indeed visit Scrooge — the Ghost of Christmas Past, who reminds Scrooge of lost loves; the Ghost of Christmas Present, who points out all the fun that people are having without him; and the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, who shows the miser the world after he’s gone. Dickensian hilarity and moralizing ensue.
You’ll Love It
Do you love A Christmas Carol? How about A Christmas Carol? Or maybe A Christmas Carol? Then boy have I got a book for you.
You’ll Loathe It
Not a huge fan of A Christmas Carol? Never much connected with A Christmas Carol? Don’t see what all the fuss is regarding A Christmas Carol? I can’t help you.
Read It Or Leave It?
In all seriousness, there’s a lot to really enjoy about the actual, original, published version of A Christmas Carol. One of the most underappreciated things about Charles Dickens today is how hilarious the dude was. Nothing annoys me more* than a solemn, uptight Dickens adaptation (*lies; I am annoyed by many things).
Great Expectations is one of the funniest books I’ve ever read, but every adaptation of it I’ve seen treats it like Wuthering Heights’s depressing London cousin. Contemporary meme accounts cry out at the ridiculousness of Miss Havisham, the jilted recluse who wears her wedding dress every day for the rest of her life, being in her mid-thirties, but that’s the entire point: her character is ridiculous. Dickens likely based Miss Havisham on an actual Australian woman who actually wore her actual wedding dress for the rest of her actual life. Actually.
But I digress. A Christmas Carol, like much of Dickens’s other writings, takes a humorous approach to the critiques he was making about society. The prose is sharp and clever, and the reader is meant to have fun with the story.
Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. …Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
Mind! I don’t mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, what there is particularly dead about a door-nail. I might have been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors is in the simile; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, or the Country’s done for. You will therefore permit me to repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a door-nail.
That’s how the story begins. Dickens wants to be clear from the outset that this is not something to be taken terribly seriously. This was important — as Christmas in 1843 was not the same as Christmas today.
Whatever one might think about the “War on Christmas” in the 21st century, in the 19th century there were two clearly distinct sides. On the one hand were the pious Christians who considered Christmas to be a solemn and holy day. On the other were the more secular revelers who had begun to elevate Christmas above New Years as the main winter feast day.
Festive Christmas activities were associated with the countryside, but Dickens set his allegory in the industrial heart of the empire, extending the charitable spirit he was espousing to the impoverished urban masses. He made A Christmas Carol — and its message not to be a Scrooge — accessible to absolutely everyone.
Dickens was by no means a revolutionary writer, but he was profoundly affected by the conditions he saw firsthand when touring coal mines, poorhouses, penitentiaries, and orphanages. Don’t ask me why he toured all these places; what’s important is that he did, and then wanted conditions for the poor to be improved.
One of the story’s most famous exchanges, when Scrooge is approached by two men taking up collection for the poor, is probably among its least understood today:
“Many thousands are in want of common necessaries; hundreds of thousands are in want of common comforts, sir.”
“Are there no prisons?” asked Scrooge.
“Plenty of prisons,” said the gentleman, laying down the pen again.
“And the Union workhouses?” demanded Scrooge. “Are they still in operation?”
“They are. Still,” returned the gentleman, “I wish I could say they were not.”
“The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigour, then?” said Scrooge.
“Both very busy, sir.”
“Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course,” said Scrooge. “I’m very glad to hear it.”
Do you know what “The Treadmill” is? Because I sure didn’t. It’s a giant wheel with steps that prisoners would walk upon endlessly to power a mill, pump, or fan. Scrooge, like many rich folks of his day, was in full support of this method of hard labor.
Why am I telling you this? Because it’s always important to look to the original sources of these stories to get a clear idea of the author’s message. And in many ways, the original source is irrelevant in this case; the message is still loud and clear, nearly two centuries later.
There are a handful of differences between the original text and the countless adaptations that have been made, but for the most part the story is the story and there’s no changing it: rich jerk changes his selfish ways only when threatened with extreme violence.
The Final Verdict
At the end of the day, this column is about helping folks decide how to spend their limited allotment of reading hours in this one short life we are given. Did I enjoy reading A Christmas Carol? Yes. Would you enjoy reading A Christmas Carol? Probably. Is this a book you should read, assuming you’ve already seen the Muppets version? Eh, maybe not.
If you’re a big fan of Dickens already, then by all means, read away! It is an experience that will enrich your life. Of course, if you are a big fan of Dickens already, you probably didn’t need some random dude on the internet to tell you to read the guy’s most popular work.
And if you aren’t somebody who is naturally drawn to witty Victorian social commentaries, you don’t need to go out of your way to read A Christmas Carol. You probably already know the story. You’ve heard the message. You’ve likely decided whether to let the spirit of Christmas enter your heart this holiday season or be a Scrooge and fall back on the “personal responsibility” myth.
Don’t wait for ghosts to threaten you with damnation! Visit your family, give money to the poor, and send a giant turkey to a handicapped child today! There’s still time.
About the author
Brian McGackin is the author of BROETRY (Quirk Books, 2011). He has a BA from Emerson College in Something Completely Unrelated To His Life Right Now, and a Masters in Poetry from USC. He enjoys Guinness, comic books, and Bruce Willis movies.
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