Sure, we all hate monster mash-ups of the classics at this point. We've gotten jaded since the idea of the monster/classic mash-up first arrived on the scene with Pride and Prejudice and Zombies was a curious child who wanted to know how Santa was able to bring gifts to children for hundreds of years without aging or dying." Right before Netflix went down for the entirety of Christmas - I see how all you assholes have the day off, and are on the Netflix hard - my husband and I searched for Xmas movies. Being Netflix, much of what was available on streaming was Finnish horror films about Krampus, who, if you did not grow up Scandinavian, is like evil Santa, the stick to Saint Nicolas's carrot.
An immortal semi-deity who can see when you've been naughty and nice is a scary ass thing, when you get right down to it, a sort of God-lite moral agent. While Coca-Cola, Disney, and the entire American mercantile machine has defanged the Victorian Santa who had no qualms about shoving naughty children into sacks and leaving switches in stockings, his scary, home-invasion sensibility still remains under the treacle and sugar plums. Which is why this book kinda rules. It rules more because it was a gift from someone who knows my proclivites, which maybe isn't hard given all the shatting about zombies I do on the Internets, but the wrapped gift of one's obsessions is a joy in any season. But even more so on Christmas Eve, the paper stripped to reveal the perfect book at the perfect moment.
Thank you, Stephanie. You rule. Cross-posted on Readerling