Every December, I do this thing where I make an ambitious “cozy holiday reading list” full of classics like A Christmas Carol, Little Women (the Christmas scenes count!), and The Gift of the Magi. I buy new fuzzy socks, prepare the perfect hot chocolate recipe, and set up a dreamy reading nook with twinkle lights.
Then reality hits: between gift shopping, cookie baking, and binge-watching cheesy holiday movies on Netflix, I barely make it through one chapter before December 25th arrives. Meanwhile, that stack of holiday classics sits untouched while I secretly devour Tessa Bailey’s latest spicy Christmas romance on my Kindle.
The funny part? Every year I see people posting their “traditional holiday reads” on Instagram – pristine copies of classic Christmas books perfectly staged with pine branches and candy canes. But I have to wonder: are any of us actually reading these classics, or are we just propping them up for photos while actually reading “The Naughty List” behind closed doors?
Has “holiday reading” become more about the aesthetic than the actual reading, or am I the only one choosing modern Christmas romcoms over Dickens?
