It's a Wonderful Wife by Camille Pagán (2020) audio (2021) print
69-page Kindle Ebook story pages 4-66
Genre: Holiday > Christmas; Romance, Retelling, Novella
Featuring: Bibliography for Camille Pagán, Author's Links, Epigraph, Orphans, Family Business, Marital Issues, Infertility, Factory - Cannery, December, Upstate New York, Financial Problems, Sex, Drinking, Alternative Life Trope, Family Dynamics, Friendships, Financial Problems, Author’s Social Media Links
Rating as a movie: R
Songs for the soundtrack: "It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year" by Andy Williams, "Jingle Bell Rock" by Bobby Helms, "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" by Judy Garland
Books and Authors mentioned: It's A Wonderful Life by Philip Van Doren Stern [based on] The Greatest Gift by Philip Van Doren Stern; How The Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss, A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
My rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️½🏭🎄
My thoughts: 🔖Page 8 of 69 [Chapter] TWO So this is pretty much a retelling of It's a Wonderful Life with opposites instead of the male George Bailey, we have the female Bailey George. Instead of having loving parents she's an orphan, instead of having a little brother, Harry, she has a little sister, Harriet/Hattie, Uncle Billy is Aunt Billie, and finally, instead of being ungrateful about a gaggle of kids, she's childless and pining for a baby. We'd better get an angel. I was mostly disappointed that the eBook didn't get to keep the cute cover that had me add the audiobook to my TBR a couple of years ago. It's cute so far.
This was promising but not what I was hoping for. I particularly didn't care for the alternative portion of the story. It also ended too abruptly.
Recommend to others: Sure, it's a quick read.
Memorable Quotes: “Bailey? I’ve got bad news.” My Aunt Billie stared at me like she was about to tell me the Grinch had just made off with all of our Christmas presents. I glanced up from the pile of papers on my desk. “Can it wait just a few? I’m wrapping up payroll.” She grimaced. “Yeah, that’s the thing. I, uh. I . . . lost some money.” “Lost? What do you mean, ‘lost’?’ I leaned forward to sniff for whiskey and regret. Like me, Billie didn’t handle the holidays too well. Because while everyone else was fa-la-la-ing about the most wonderful time of the year, we were forced to plaster on eggnog-guzzling grins and pretend it wasn’t the anniversary of my parents’ death. I was just twenty when my mom, who was Billie’s sister, asked my dad to take her out on a drive on a snowy Christmas Eve. I’ll never know exactly what happened, but I told my younger sister, Harriet, whom we’d always called Hattie, that they were singing carols to each other when they hit a patch of ice. In that version of the story, they didn’t have time to realize they were careening directly into a Douglas fir—you know, the kind you might decorate with twinkle lights and ornaments, if it wasn’t busy killing you. Eighteen years later and I still can’t shake the blues when December rolls around. “Well, you know how the cannery isn’t doing so hot?” Billie’s hands were balled into fists and her face, which was lined as much with sadness as age, was all twisted up.