Here is memoir––not fiction—about a wartime Christmas in Duluth, l944. Young Carol has two weeks home from boarding school. Her mother has been dead two years, and of her three brothers, all in uniform, two are away at war. The father sends weekly carbons to his four children––word of each and news of the war in general. Carol arranges the crèche and admires the tree all right, but she also likes writing medium bad sonnets and plans to kiss "that boy in someone’s rumpus room if he was the same one I thought he was." Underneath all that, she dreams about Germans, and genocide.
Recalling her own adolescent thinking, and thinking of what adolescents experience now, Carol Bly comes to some astonishing conclusions.