Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Beaton describes "Cookies" as a memory from Christmas 2005, when she was working in the tool crib of an oil sands mine in Alberta. But, for all its apparent simplicity, it reads like a well-crafted piece of fiction. The dialogue is spot-on, and Beaton knows just which details to show: the sad fake Christmas tree left unattended on the floor, the miners nearly anonymous in their cold weather gear, the burn of frost on everyone's cheeks. And it manages to tell a heartwarming Christmas story without ever becoming saccharine.
Cookies [Hark, a vagrant]