They were of course written in no way for publication, but the idea of making them into a book was appealing. That drawing was the one of the World to be found at the end of the latest edition.ĭrawing by Father Christmas accidentally seen by Christopher Tolkien as a child.Īt the time of my father-in-law’s death in 1973, the letters had been assumed to be lost, so it was a great delight when the whole collection turned up among the vast volume of papers he had kept throughout his life. Christopher had already begun to have his suspicions - no doubt encouraged by the challenge to his belief in Father Christmas posed by schoolmates - when he came upon a drawing lying on his father’s desk when his father had been called to the telephone. Throughout the period in question, the older children kept the secret as they learned the truth so the younger ones could continue to enjoy the excitement and suspense. In keeping with the atmosphere of the published work, the introduction evades the issue of the true author of the letters who was of course J.R.R.
When is Michael going to learn to read, and write his own letters to me? Lots of love to you both and Christopher, whose name is rather like mine.In the course of the twenty-three year period, Snow-elves, Red Gnomes, Snow-men, Cave-bears, and the Polar Bear’s nephews joined Father Christmas and the North Polar Bear, and the adventures developed elements obviously emanating from the same imagination as that which created Middle-earth. If John can’t read my old shaky writing (1925 years old) he must get his father to. I send you a picture of the accident, and of my new house on the cliffs above the N.P. I expect his temper is hurt, and will be mended by next Christmas. He is well again now, but I was so cross with him that he says he won’t try to help me again. The pole broke in the middle and fell on the roof of my house, and the N.P.Bear fell through the hole it made into the dining room with my hood over his nose, and all the snow fell off the roof into the house and melted and put out all the fires and ran down into the cellars where I was collecting this year’s presents, and the N.P.Bear’s leg got broken. I told him not to, but the N.P.Bear climbed up to the thin top to get it down - and he did. It all happened like this: one very windy day last November my hood blew off and went and stuck on the top of the North Pole. In fact, awful things have been happening, and some of the presents have got spoilt and I haven’t got the North Polar Bear to help me and I have had to move house just before Christmas, so you can imagine what a state everything is in, and you will see why I have a new address, and why I can only write one letter between you both. I am dreadfully busy this year - it makes my hand more shaky than ever when I think of it - and not very rich. Here is a sample of the delightful letters from 1925, thanks to Letters of Note:
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