An Author's Christmas

Even for pagans Christmas was a season of lights and of hope. Those of us who have published this last year a blockbuster to great acclaim will have no problem calling out the cymbals, cornets and sackbuts -- a celebration we should all be happy to share. There are others whom we may call the expectant, and for them the message of hope is only too real: a life’s work near completion, a labour of love coming out next year, a research project finally ready for the press, or simply an enchanted poem that’s just waiting to be read. Their glasses of red claret will glow with special warmth on this day. Then there are the rest of us who perhaps published last year, or the previous year, three years or five years ago -- disappointed people for whom today’s band doesn’t quite seem to hit the high note expected. Do they now turn away, hide themselves in an unlit nook, and not really enjoy the music? Well, Christmas was never meant to be blind joy. The original story, don’t forget, is that of a family which finds no place in the inn. But, all the same, it remains a story of hope and of mission.

The basic thought behind SOAF is that authors’ lives are not easy in a world of fast talk and mass media. Working in France carries its peculiar challenges. Because we live abroad we see things that people who stay at home do not. Our books cross frontiers. Our voices, wherever we stand in the publishing cycle at year’s end, add special value to the culture of our time. That is why we all celebrate Christmas today.