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Christmas At Eagle Pond
Donald Hall draws on his own childhood memories and gives himself the thing he most wanted but didn't get as a boy: a Christmas at Eagle Pond.
It’s the Christmas season of 1940, and twelve-year-old Donnie takes the train to visit his grandparents' place in rural New Hampshire. Once there, he quickly settles into the farm’s routines. In the barn, Gramp milks the cows and entertains his grandson by speaking rhymed pieces, while Donnie’s eyes are drawn to an empty stall that houses a graceful, cobwebby sleigh. Now Model A's speed over the wintry roads, which must be plowed, and the beautiful sleigh has become obsolete. When the church pageant is over, the gifts are exchanged, and the remains of the Christmas feast put away, the air becomes heavy with fine snowflakes—the kind that fall at the start of a big storm—and everyone wonders, how will Donnie get back to his parents on time?
It’s the Christmas season of 1940, and twelve-year-old Donnie takes the train to visit his grandparents' place in rural New Hampshire. Once there, he quickly settles into the farm’s routines. In the barn, Gramp milks the cows and entertains his grandson by speaking rhymed pieces, while Donnie’s eyes are drawn to an empty stall that houses a graceful, cobwebby sleigh. Now Model A's speed over the wintry roads, which must be plowed, and the beautiful sleigh has become obsolete. When the church pageant is over, the gifts are exchanged, and the remains of the Christmas feast put away, the air becomes heavy with fine snowflakes—the kind that fall at the start of a big storm—and everyone wonders, how will Donnie get back to his parents on time?
96 pages, Hardcover
First published November 1, 2017
12 people are currently reading
256 people want to read
About the author
Donald Hall
180 books201 followersDonald Hall was considered one of the major American poets of his generation.
His poetry explores the longing for a more bucolic past and reflects the poet’s abiding reverence for nature. Although Hall gained early success with his first collection, Exiles and Marriages (1955), his later poetry is generally regarded as the best of his career. Often compared favorably with such writers as James Dickey, Robert Bly, and James Wright, Hall used simple, direct language to evoke surrealistic imagery. In addition to his poetry, Hall built a respected body of prose that includes essays, short fiction, plays, and children’s books. Hall, who lived on the New Hampshire farm he visited in summers as a boy, was also noted for the anthologies he has edited and is a popular teacher, speaker, and reader of his own poems.
Born in 1928, Hall grew up in Hamden, Connecticut. The Hall household was marked by a volatile father and a mother who was “steadier, maybe with more access to depths because there was less continual surface,” as Hall explained in an essay for Contemporary Authors Autobiography Series (CAAS). “To her I owe my fires, to my father my tears. I owe them both for their reading.” By age twelve, Hall had discovered the poet and short story writer Edgar Allan Poe: “I read Poe and my life changed,” he remarked in CAAS. Another strong influence in Hall’s early years was his maternal great-grandfather’s farm in New Hampshire, where he spent many summers. Decades later, he bought the same farm and settled there as a full-time writer and poet.
Hall attended Philips Exeter Academy and had his first poem published at age 16. He was a participant at the prestigious Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference, where he met Robert Frost, that same year. From Exeter, Hall went to Harvard University, attending class alongside Adrienne Rich, Robert Bly, Frank O’Hara, and John Ashbery; he also studied for a year with Archibald MacLeish. Hall earned a BLitt from Oxford University and won the Newdigate contest for his poem “Exile,” one of the few Americans ever to win the prize. Returning to the United States, Hall spent a year at Stanford, studying under the poet-critic Yvor Winters, before returning to Harvard to join the prestigious Society of Fellows. It was there that Hall assembled Exiles and Marriages, a tightly-structured collection crafted in rigid rhyme and meter. In 1953, Hall also became the poetry editor of the Paris Review, a position he held until 1961. In 1957 he took a position as assistant professor of English at the University of Michigan, where he remained until 1975. While at Michigan, Hall met the young Jane Kenyon. They later married and, when Hall’s grandmother, who owned Eagle Pond Farm, passed away, bought the farm, left teaching, and moved there together. The collections Kicking the Leaves (1978) and The Happy Man (1986) reflect Hall’s happiness at his return to the family farm, a place rich with memories and links to his past. Many of the poems explore and celebrate the continuity between generations. The Happy Man won the Lenore Marshall/Nation Prize. Hall’s next book, The One Day (1988), won the National Book Critics Circle Award. A long poem that meditates on the on-set of old age, The One Day, like much of Hall’s early work, takes shape under formal pressure: composed of 110 stanzas, split over three sections, its final sections are written in blank verse. The critic Frederick Pollack praised the book as possibly “the last masterpiece of American Modernism. Any poet who seeks to surpass this genre should study it; any reader who has lost interest in contemporary poetry should read it.” Old and New Poems (1990) contains several traditional poems from earlier collections, as well as more innovative verses not previously published. “Baseball,” included in The Museum of Clear Ideas (1993), is the poet’s ode to the great American pastime and is structured around t
His poetry explores the longing for a more bucolic past and reflects the poet’s abiding reverence for nature. Although Hall gained early success with his first collection, Exiles and Marriages (1955), his later poetry is generally regarded as the best of his career. Often compared favorably with such writers as James Dickey, Robert Bly, and James Wright, Hall used simple, direct language to evoke surrealistic imagery. In addition to his poetry, Hall built a respected body of prose that includes essays, short fiction, plays, and children’s books. Hall, who lived on the New Hampshire farm he visited in summers as a boy, was also noted for the anthologies he has edited and is a popular teacher, speaker, and reader of his own poems.
Born in 1928, Hall grew up in Hamden, Connecticut. The Hall household was marked by a volatile father and a mother who was “steadier, maybe with more access to depths because there was less continual surface,” as Hall explained in an essay for Contemporary Authors Autobiography Series (CAAS). “To her I owe my fires, to my father my tears. I owe them both for their reading.” By age twelve, Hall had discovered the poet and short story writer Edgar Allan Poe: “I read Poe and my life changed,” he remarked in CAAS. Another strong influence in Hall’s early years was his maternal great-grandfather’s farm in New Hampshire, where he spent many summers. Decades later, he bought the same farm and settled there as a full-time writer and poet.
Hall attended Philips Exeter Academy and had his first poem published at age 16. He was a participant at the prestigious Bread Loaf Writer’s Conference, where he met Robert Frost, that same year. From Exeter, Hall went to Harvard University, attending class alongside Adrienne Rich, Robert Bly, Frank O’Hara, and John Ashbery; he also studied for a year with Archibald MacLeish. Hall earned a BLitt from Oxford University and won the Newdigate contest for his poem “Exile,” one of the few Americans ever to win the prize. Returning to the United States, Hall spent a year at Stanford, studying under the poet-critic Yvor Winters, before returning to Harvard to join the prestigious Society of Fellows. It was there that Hall assembled Exiles and Marriages, a tightly-structured collection crafted in rigid rhyme and meter. In 1953, Hall also became the poetry editor of the Paris Review, a position he held until 1961. In 1957 he took a position as assistant professor of English at the University of Michigan, where he remained until 1975. While at Michigan, Hall met the young Jane Kenyon. They later married and, when Hall’s grandmother, who owned Eagle Pond Farm, passed away, bought the farm, left teaching, and moved there together. The collections Kicking the Leaves (1978) and The Happy Man (1986) reflect Hall’s happiness at his return to the family farm, a place rich with memories and links to his past. Many of the poems explore and celebrate the continuity between generations. The Happy Man won the Lenore Marshall/Nation Prize. Hall’s next book, The One Day (1988), won the National Book Critics Circle Award. A long poem that meditates on the on-set of old age, The One Day, like much of Hall’s early work, takes shape under formal pressure: composed of 110 stanzas, split over three sections, its final sections are written in blank verse. The critic Frederick Pollack praised the book as possibly “the last masterpiece of American Modernism. Any poet who seeks to surpass this genre should study it; any reader who has lost interest in contemporary poetry should read it.” Old and New Poems (1990) contains several traditional poems from earlier collections, as well as more innovative verses not previously published. “Baseball,” included in The Museum of Clear Ideas (1993), is the poet’s ode to the great American pastime and is structured around t
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November 10, 2018
Have you ever wanted a book to not end? I felt this way about this one, but I will read it again some day.
While Donald Hall wrote about visiting his grandparent’s farm in New Hampshire in the 40s when he was a young boy, he had actually never been there during Christmas time, only during the summers; instead he created this story of his taking a train at Christmas time from his home in Connecticut to their farm. So in his heart he had actually had Christmas with them. After they had passed away he actually bought their farm.
Oh, what memories he must have had. I wish that I had grown up on a farm but with an extended family. He even makes the chores sound wonderful, and for the few years that I lived on farm land, I thought that the chores were wonderful too. I loved having chickens and cutting wood for our woodstove and on and on.
His grandmother washed clothes in her wringer washer, just as I had as a child. She baked, and they made maple syrup which they used to make popcorn balls for the annual church Christmas party. She even knitted mittens on a yearly basis when it was necessary to throw away last year’s. And she made homemade bread. Oh, the smell of homemade bread. And once a year she made soap. I imagine that she even made candy. As kids, my older sister Jeanette made candy. old fashioned fudge, taffy, and divinity fudge. What tastes better than old fashioned chocolate fudge, the kind without the marshmallows? And if it is burnt and sugary, sometimes that is all the better. Who does this anymore?
We have lost those wonderful days, trading books for the TV, trading woodstoves for central heat, and trading feather beds for memory foam. I slept in a feather bed once when my step-uncle and grandmother took me to West Plains, MO when I was 16. It was heavenly, even in the summer time. We have lost so much that we hardly know the love of the land. We don’t even know what it is like to hang out clothes, but then again, while my husband put up a pulley clothesline for me, just because I wanted one like my grandmother’s, I use our dryer. Such is life.
Christmas on the farm was wonderful. His grandfather told stories, he got a book of poetry, and they had a great dinner, and he got a ride in his grandfather’s horse drawn sleigh.
Here are a couple of candy recipes:
SOUR CREAM FUDGE
2 c. sugar
1/2 t. salt
1 c. sour cream
2 T. butter
1/2 c. chopped walnuts
In a saucepan, combine sugar, salt, and sour cream. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally to a softball stage. Add butter. When lukewarm, beat until mixture loses its gloss. Add walnuts. Spread in a buttered pan.
Old Fashion Fudge
3 c. sugar
1 c. milk
3 (1 oz.) sq. unsweetened chocolate
Dash salt
2 t. corn syrup
3 T. butter
1 1/2 t. vanilla
1 c. chopped walnuts
Butter sides of a saucepan. Add sugar, milk, chocolate, salt, and corn syrup. Heat over medium heat, stirring constantly. Bring to a boil. Cook to a softball stage (234 degrees), stirring when necessary. Remove from heat; add butter. Cool to lukewarm (110 degrees). Do not stir during cooling process. Add vanilla, and then beat vigorously until fudge becomes very thick and begins to lose its gloss. Add walnuts. Spread out in a buttered pan.
While Donald Hall wrote about visiting his grandparent’s farm in New Hampshire in the 40s when he was a young boy, he had actually never been there during Christmas time, only during the summers; instead he created this story of his taking a train at Christmas time from his home in Connecticut to their farm. So in his heart he had actually had Christmas with them. After they had passed away he actually bought their farm.
Oh, what memories he must have had. I wish that I had grown up on a farm but with an extended family. He even makes the chores sound wonderful, and for the few years that I lived on farm land, I thought that the chores were wonderful too. I loved having chickens and cutting wood for our woodstove and on and on.
His grandmother washed clothes in her wringer washer, just as I had as a child. She baked, and they made maple syrup which they used to make popcorn balls for the annual church Christmas party. She even knitted mittens on a yearly basis when it was necessary to throw away last year’s. And she made homemade bread. Oh, the smell of homemade bread. And once a year she made soap. I imagine that she even made candy. As kids, my older sister Jeanette made candy. old fashioned fudge, taffy, and divinity fudge. What tastes better than old fashioned chocolate fudge, the kind without the marshmallows? And if it is burnt and sugary, sometimes that is all the better. Who does this anymore?
We have lost those wonderful days, trading books for the TV, trading woodstoves for central heat, and trading feather beds for memory foam. I slept in a feather bed once when my step-uncle and grandmother took me to West Plains, MO when I was 16. It was heavenly, even in the summer time. We have lost so much that we hardly know the love of the land. We don’t even know what it is like to hang out clothes, but then again, while my husband put up a pulley clothesline for me, just because I wanted one like my grandmother’s, I use our dryer. Such is life.
Christmas on the farm was wonderful. His grandfather told stories, he got a book of poetry, and they had a great dinner, and he got a ride in his grandfather’s horse drawn sleigh.
Here are a couple of candy recipes:
SOUR CREAM FUDGE
2 c. sugar
1/2 t. salt
1 c. sour cream
2 T. butter
1/2 c. chopped walnuts
In a saucepan, combine sugar, salt, and sour cream. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally to a softball stage. Add butter. When lukewarm, beat until mixture loses its gloss. Add walnuts. Spread in a buttered pan.
Old Fashion Fudge
3 c. sugar
1 c. milk
3 (1 oz.) sq. unsweetened chocolate
Dash salt
2 t. corn syrup
3 T. butter
1 1/2 t. vanilla
1 c. chopped walnuts
Butter sides of a saucepan. Add sugar, milk, chocolate, salt, and corn syrup. Heat over medium heat, stirring constantly. Bring to a boil. Cook to a softball stage (234 degrees), stirring when necessary. Remove from heat; add butter. Cool to lukewarm (110 degrees). Do not stir during cooling process. Add vanilla, and then beat vigorously until fudge becomes very thick and begins to lose its gloss. Add walnuts. Spread out in a buttered pan.
November 20, 2019
A short old-timey story, that centers on hard work on a New England farm and love of family for the few imagined days Donnie spent with grandparents during Christmas.
January 1, 2018
We expected to really enjoy this book as we love reading about everday lives in different places and times, and love reading about winter, Christmas and snow. The story starts off well with a young boy going to stay on his grandparents farm for Christmas. We enjoyed the detail of how Grandfather liked to recite stories and events and we enjoyed googling 'moxie' to find out whatever it was Grandma was drinking! After that we found the book which we thought was a memoir a bit flat. There were a couple of parts that were upsetting /shocking My daughter thought those events were horrible and said the rest of the book wasn't very interesting.
We were interested to read the end note by the author about his grandparents and the farm and it turned out that it wasn't a memoir and he'd never even been there as a child in winter and it was just what he imagined it would be like, my daughter wondered why he didn't imagine something nicer!
We were interested to read the end note by the author about his grandparents and the farm and it turned out that it wasn't a memoir and he'd never even been there as a child in winter and it was just what he imagined it would be like, my daughter wondered why he didn't imagine something nicer!
December 31, 2017
The crystalline fictional memory of this novella made me wake with tears on my face recalling my own grandparents. Reminds me a bit of A Month in the Country having a deeply poetic and salvific quality. Recommended for those melancholy and stress- filled days prior to the holiday.
...Days later, my mind is still filled by this book ..... for more on the one of the characters I highly recommend Hall's book for children also illustrated by Mary Azarian: The Man Who Lived Alone.
I will be exploring more of the poetry, essays, and picture books of Donald Hall (former U.S. Poet Laureate) in the upcoming year.
...Days later, my mind is still filled by this book ..... for more on the one of the characters I highly recommend Hall's book for children also illustrated by Mary Azarian: The Man Who Lived Alone.
I will be exploring more of the poetry, essays, and picture books of Donald Hall (former U.S. Poet Laureate) in the upcoming year.
December 14, 2012
A lovely novella about a boy visiting his grandparents' farm in New Hampshire during Christmas in 1940. Donnie helps with the chores, makes popcorn balls to decorate the tree, listens to his grandfather's stories and gets to attend the church's big Christmas party. On Christmas Day they have a feast -- everything but the salt and pepper came from the farm -- and they share more family stories.
This book brought back fond memories of Christmas visits to my grandparents' farm when I was young, and if my grandmother were still alive, I would share this wonderful story with her.
Be sure to read the author's note at the end, for it makes the book especially bittersweet.
This book brought back fond memories of Christmas visits to my grandparents' farm when I was young, and if my grandmother were still alive, I would share this wonderful story with her.
Be sure to read the author's note at the end, for it makes the book especially bittersweet.
December 4, 2025
Donald Hall was one of the great American poets of his generation. It was one of his childhood dreams to spend a Christmas at his grandparents' farm, but that was never possible, so when he was in his eighties, he imagined the event into a short story. I have no doubt his visualization was deeply satisfying to him because I believed it was a true story until the very end.
The year is 1940 and the place is a family farm in New Hampshire. He has relatives that remember the Civil War, but he himself is only 12 so the conversation often turns to the technological changes that are transforming the 20th century - the phone, the automobile, the changes that they have seen in farming life. Young Don is living on the cusp of significant, mind-blowing advances, courtesy of the Second World War, and the story is infused with a sense of nostalgia for a way of life that is soon to be defunct. In the meantime, he writes of his grandfather who quotes poetry to him (a shared love that resulted in Donald Hall's career), and his grandmother who works as hard as any man, keeping the farmhouse going. This tale is an origin story for a great poet; it is not what happened, but it is pretty clearly what would have happened if Donald had gone to Eagle Pond at Christmas time (he spent his summers there). You can follow the threads of the narrative into the future of a poet who wrote about nature and understood the tension between the country past of the USA and the fast-moving present.
The year is 1940 and the place is a family farm in New Hampshire. He has relatives that remember the Civil War, but he himself is only 12 so the conversation often turns to the technological changes that are transforming the 20th century - the phone, the automobile, the changes that they have seen in farming life. Young Don is living on the cusp of significant, mind-blowing advances, courtesy of the Second World War, and the story is infused with a sense of nostalgia for a way of life that is soon to be defunct. In the meantime, he writes of his grandfather who quotes poetry to him (a shared love that resulted in Donald Hall's career), and his grandmother who works as hard as any man, keeping the farmhouse going. This tale is an origin story for a great poet; it is not what happened, but it is pretty clearly what would have happened if Donald had gone to Eagle Pond at Christmas time (he spent his summers there). You can follow the threads of the narrative into the future of a poet who wrote about nature and understood the tension between the country past of the USA and the fast-moving present.
February 24, 2016
Christmas at Eagle Pond – Donald Hall
4 stars
It’s a pleasant, 78- page trip into Christmas nostalgia that ends with a sleigh ride. Donald Hall has written a memory of a 1940’s Christmas on his Grandparent’s New Hampshire farm. It comes complete with a train ride, homemade meals, a Christmas pageant and presents. The interesting point about this little book is that Hall didn't ever spend a Christmas with his Grandparents. He has written a memory for himself and his readers to enjoy. And I did.
The truly best part of this little book were the woodcut illustrations by Mary Azarian, They were beautiful. I’ll be looking for more of her work.
December 13, 2012
I had read some of Donald Hall's poetry and when this became available on Nook's "Daily Find" I decided it would make a nice addition to my holiday books. The way you should read this book is with snow falling outside, a fire in the fireplace, and a mug of hot chocolate in your hand. But it's still enjoyable with no snow, fire or hot chocolate. A sweet story of a long-ago New England Christmas (1940) with loving grandparents and a 12-year-old boy. The ending was predictable, but that didn't lessen the enjoyment of the book at all. After reading the book, you must read the Author's Note. I won't say why.
January 25, 2013
recovering just enough to sit with a pot of tea, a blanket and cat, this book which came in today's mail made me feel better for its sweet nostalgia. What I assumed was memoir turned out to be something more sad at the end. Lovely prose as always by the old master Donald Hall. Savor an hour with this small glimpse of the past.
July 16, 2014
A slip of a book, but as beautifully written as anything in Hall's magnificent career.
December 21, 2022
I picked this up on a whim at the used book sale for our local library (it was $1.00), and I’m happy I did. It is the perfect imagining of a an old fashioned Christmas on a farm. Set in New England in the 1940s, we are treated to a Christmas pageant in a local church, a meal made from the animals/land of the family farm, and a sleigh ride when the roads get too treacherous. Although the farm featured in this story did exist (it was his grandparents’ farm), Donald Hall never actually made it there for a visit during the Christmas season. Instead, he pieces together the stories from his family members and people from the town to conjure this Christmas memory. This is worth a read if you are able to get your hands on a copy - it certainly helped to get me in a holiday mood.
December 13, 2018
This was an unpretentious and delightful story full of vignettes and characters that are simple, yet remind me of the good people I grew up with and those I know now. The illustrations by Mary Azarian have the same deep quality. It is not a true story as Hall stated in the epilogue. He wrote it because it was a story he always wished had happened. And that makes it all the more poignant. This is my first Donald Hall book, but not my last.
January 4, 2013
This is a short novella about a young man’s/boy’s Christmas at his grandparent’s farm in 1940 it is literally just a slice of life, he talks about working on the farm and milking cows and talks with his grandfather it is a nice story but I guess I kept waiting for more to happen but nothing happens it is just a snippet of time that takes you back to a slower easier time. I liked the ending and could feel the snow and smell the farm, and I too wanted a ride in the sleigh.
I enjoyed the postscript by the author of what this event in his life really was, make sure you read all the way to end the end to get the rest of the story.
A charming nostalgic tale I would recommend for a read around Christmas.
3 ½ stars
I received this from netgalley & the publisher for a fair and honest review
I enjoyed the postscript by the author of what this event in his life really was, make sure you read all the way to end the end to get the rest of the story.
A charming nostalgic tale I would recommend for a read around Christmas.
3 ½ stars
I received this from netgalley & the publisher for a fair and honest review
December 24, 2022
This is a sweet little book! I can see how Donald Hall wrote Oxcart Man with his experience of his grandparents’ self-sufficiency at Eagle Pond Farm. Donnie has such a sweet relationship with his grandparents. This story feels reminiscent of the Little House books and Robert Frost with his New England sensibility. There are beautiful woodcut illustrations by Mary Azarian. I love that Donald Hall moved to Eagle Pond Farm as an adult and got to live in his ancestral home.
August 6, 2017
A simple, charming seasonal story, richer in description than plot, by a former Poet Laureate. As someone with my own fantasy about the ideal locale for a family Christmas (in my case, a cabin in the Rocky Mountains), I appreciated Hall's details. Maybe someday I'll be able to afford my own Christmas dream; for now, though, I might follow the author's lead and write it up from my imagination.
November 11, 2012
Brief and lovely, this story has all the ring-ting-ting-a-ling Christmas nostalgia and simplicity I love. This small volume will no doubt be given as a gift to more than one special someone on my Christmas list this year.
November 20, 2021
What a truly beautiful book! The author writes a 75-page fictional story of him spending a short Christmas there in 1940. He would spend summers there. He lived that farm. And that is where he went to live out his last days. I recommend his Unpacking the Boxes after you read this one.
Read my review of his poetry book, The Painted Bed, which I at the same time.
Read my review of his poetry book, The Painted Bed, which I at the same time.
December 12, 2017
What a sweet little book with a scattering a beautiful illustrations. If you want to read a book about life on a farm in the 1940s at Christmas time then this is your book. Not much else to say about this book just pure and simple.
Family
Christmas
Farm
Family
Christmas
Farm
December 21, 2019
Beautiful and heartwarming.
December 28, 2020
I love Hall’s poetry and his prose about the New Hampshire farm where he spent most of his life. This is a lovely holiday read.
December 24, 2018
A thoroughly average and forgettable memoir of a 1940 childhood Christmas visit to Hall’s grandparents’ farm in New Hampshire. He arrives by train, animals are fed, dinner is cooked, presents are opened, extended family are present, stories are exchanged, politics is lightly touched upon, and he goes home. This is simple American nostalgia.
Then, in the author’s note, we discover why this entire book is a cliche: Hall says that he didn’t actually spend the Christmas of 1940 at Eagle Pond. He had very much wanted to do so, but he didn’t get a chance and could only read about it through postcards. This book was his way of giving himself the Christmas at Eagle Pond he never had.
Rather than tugging at my heartstrings, this revelation made me roll my eyes. But it does explain why every moment in the book reads like a cheesy Hallmark Hall of Fame movie scene.
Then, in the author’s note, we discover why this entire book is a cliche: Hall says that he didn’t actually spend the Christmas of 1940 at Eagle Pond. He had very much wanted to do so, but he didn’t get a chance and could only read about it through postcards. This book was his way of giving himself the Christmas at Eagle Pond he never had.
Rather than tugging at my heartstrings, this revelation made me roll my eyes. But it does explain why every moment in the book reads like a cheesy Hallmark Hall of Fame movie scene.
December 2, 2017
I LOVED this! What a cute little book to spend a gorgeous afternoon with during the holidays. Set in 1940 on grandparents farm, chores included, but with resounding pride in the work. Oh beautiful scenery in detailed words. What a childhood to have, but we must not romanticize the past too much. So Donald Hall does so with caution. I like his poems, but wish he had written more short prose as well during his life time. This little Christmas book is a real gem. From cover to cover, including the authors note. Donald Hall had a magic in his words.
December 19, 2012
This is not a plot-drive book. Rather it is a walk down memory lane. Based on mostly true events, the author recalls a different time (early 1940s)in a meandering recitation. Warm and friendly and you definitely get a glimpse into the past, but not an exciting read. Old sleds, sleighs, cars, plucking chickens, milking by hand, phone party lines, and more will be comfortingly familiar to some. Quick read.
February 24, 2015
This book reminded me of the time I spent at my uncle Bill's farm. It was similar in that it was just a family farm that raised most everything that was eaten. I came on the scene in 1943 and went to the farm on and off the rest of my life. I remember feeding the chickens, churning butter, raking hay by hand and then pitching the hay on a wagon and then having to pitch it off from the wagon into the hay loft. Pure work!
February 27, 2013
Christmas at Eagle Pond is a nostalgic look back to a young boys' Christmas at his Grandparents farm in 1940 rural New Hampshire. It is a wonderful look at a gentle bygone time when a World War II was feared, a radio brought the families entertainment, and a phone call was still a thing of wonder.
It is a great reminder of what should be important during the Christmas season.
It is a great reminder of what should be important during the Christmas season.
January 2, 2016
The author (a former U.S. Poet Laureate no less) creates the childhood memory that he always wanted to have, a 1940 Christmas on his grandparents farm in rural New Hampshire. There isn't much to the story, but it's rich with vivid details of a time long gone.
Read
February 1, 2013Charming
February 22, 2020
3.5 stars
December 26, 2018
A warmly evocative imagining of poet/writer Donald Hall's Christmas in 1940.
Although Hall spent many summers at his grandparents' New Hampshire farm, he was never able to spend a Christmas there. In this novella, Hall creates that longed-for Christmas when he was 12 years old, drawing upon stories told to him by his mother, grandparents, and various other relatives. He crafts a wonderful tale of rural farm life where houses were still heated by woodstoves, electricity was a relatively new addition and the main road was only recently paved.
Young Donald helps his grandfather with farm chores, makes popcorn balls with his grandmother, and joins in the community Christmas celebration at the church where great-uncle Luther, who can remember the Civil War, is the minister.
Multiple generations gather at the richly laden Christmas table, fondly recalling years past and those no longer with them, telling the tales of a world fast dissapearing but not yet forgotten.
Meanwhile the snow falls and Donald wonders how he will get home.
A very enjoyable Christmas read. Woodcut illustrations by Mary Azarian are a bonus.
Although Hall spent many summers at his grandparents' New Hampshire farm, he was never able to spend a Christmas there. In this novella, Hall creates that longed-for Christmas when he was 12 years old, drawing upon stories told to him by his mother, grandparents, and various other relatives. He crafts a wonderful tale of rural farm life where houses were still heated by woodstoves, electricity was a relatively new addition and the main road was only recently paved.
Young Donald helps his grandfather with farm chores, makes popcorn balls with his grandmother, and joins in the community Christmas celebration at the church where great-uncle Luther, who can remember the Civil War, is the minister.
Multiple generations gather at the richly laden Christmas table, fondly recalling years past and those no longer with them, telling the tales of a world fast dissapearing but not yet forgotten.
Meanwhile the snow falls and Donald wonders how he will get home.
A very enjoyable Christmas read. Woodcut illustrations by Mary Azarian are a bonus.
December 25, 2024
This was lovely. I read it on Christmas Eve, as part Jolabokaflod - the Icelandic tradition of chocolate and books. I was drawn to the book because of the Mary Azarian prints and the charm of the story.
It is set in December 1940, and we get a glimpse into life during that time — everything done or made by hand, all food from the farm, and daily chores to sustain life. You can also see how technology is newly seeping in, cars and plows displacing sleighs, a phone in the home, a radio for entertainment rather than the oral stories grampa is skilled at sharing. A lovely slice of life at a time when I’m yearning for simplicity and returning to previously valued handcrafting skills.
It is set in December 1940, and we get a glimpse into life during that time — everything done or made by hand, all food from the farm, and daily chores to sustain life. You can also see how technology is newly seeping in, cars and plows displacing sleighs, a phone in the home, a radio for entertainment rather than the oral stories grampa is skilled at sharing. A lovely slice of life at a time when I’m yearning for simplicity and returning to previously valued handcrafting skills.
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