All the Origins in “Upon the Midnight Queer”
Yesterday, I went into the story of how “Not the Marrying Kind” came to be, and then a kismet thing happened, and someone wrote a lovely review of the collection as a whole, which included:
The one thing which I felt the absence of, (and would have delighted in because I’m that type of person), was the inclusion of a list or note, pairing each queer re-telling with its source of origin or inspiration. I’m super intrigued about all the ones I didn’t recognise!
I almost included this in the original, but—more fool me—thought no one would honestly care. Now, some of these are far more obvious than others, but for the sake of completeness, here we go, in order:
“Dolph” is a retelling of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, and also me taking on “how does he deliver all the presents in one night?” and deciding to expand on Mrs. Claus, because frankly, she’s got to be amazing, right? This one started it all, came out of a conversation with some queer friends, and also probably had been bubbling in my head from the first time I heard the Jack Johnson version of the song, where he includes the extra stanza: “But Rudolph he didn’t go for that, he said, ‘I see through your silly games. How can you look me in the face when only yesterday you called me names?’” Every time I hear that version, I want to fist-pump like I’m walking away from the high school after Saturday detention.
“Frost” is a retelling of Frosty the Snowman. I had fun sneaking in references to the song into this one, like “down to the village, with a broomstick in his hand” being Frost grabbing an unfinished broom whe he’s furiously trying to make sure Little Jay is okay, and the officer trying to stop him. There’s a second winter legend/story tied into this one, too, but it’d be a spoiler, so I won’t mention it.
“Reflection” is a retelling of the Snow Queen, and a POV shift to Kai, the boy who in my version wasn’t kidnapped at all, but ran away because he knew full well how his family would treat him once they learned he wasn’t what they wanted him to be. The notion of making the Snow Queen a kind of boogeyman-figure who’s actually quite wonderful, actually, just, y’know, not “normal” enough for the majority just struck me as deliciously queer. Also, I just love an ice queen, and thought it would be nice to show her as completely content in her life, but willing to help others who were different like she was. Ah, allegory. Doesn’t have to be subtle, does it?
“The Five Crowns and Colonel’s Sabre” is a retelling of the Nutcracker and a POV shift to Fritz, the brother who damages the Nutcracker in the original version of the tale. In this one, he’s way more aware of everything happening to his sister and the Nutcracker, but he’s a boy of a certain age (and also queer) so the pressure of being “proper” has him believing he can’t give into whimsy the way his sister can. At least, not until years have passed, and he finds himself back home again.
“Five Shillings and Sixpence” was written for a publisher event, originally, but takes on Christmas Day from “A Christmas Carol” but from Peter Cratchitt’s point of view (and, specifically, as he’s presented in the 1951 “A Christmas Carol” movie starring Alastair Sim). The eldest Cratchitt boy had secured himself a position—and thus, income—but in my version of the tale, Peter is quite aware of the future awaiting his family, and is doing everything he can to avert it, right up until the point that everything changes.
“The Doors of Penlyon” is definitely based on the most obscure original Christmas story, in that I started with Tom Danby, an instigating but side-character from “The Christmas Hirelings,” by Mary Elizabeth Braddon, a tale written in 1894. The original is about a grumpy rich man, his niece, and Tom Danby noting that Christmas is for the young—and that’s how it really comes alive—and the grumpy old man agreeing to allow Tom to hire children to stay with them for the season to bring the holiday to live. Of course, which children, and why is the main thing, and Tom Danby is a clever man to arrange it all—but it almost goes sideways when one of the children gets ill. I took that piece of the story, made Tom Danby a queer “muse” (a teleporter capable of using doorways to get from any door he’s touching to any other door he’s ever been through, in a callback to my YA novel Exit Plans for Teenage Freaks) and then stirred.
“A Day (or Two) Ago” is a queer story based on “Jingle Bells,” via time-looping. This one was a lot of fun, I wrote it in 2020, when I was desperately trying to find something more fun and uplifting to think about. Also, the full, extended version of “Jingle Bells” was just full of lovely little turns of phrases to mine for scenes in a queer retelling, like the part where the singer ends up falling onto his back in the snow and “a gent was riding by” who “laughed as I there sprawling lie” which is where the whole idea coalesced around Miss Fanny Bright (who the extended song is also along for a ride that ends poorly with the narrator) and the main character’s brother—the “gent” in question.
“The Future in Flame” is entirely my husband’s fault. That year, I was fumbling around for a story to retell, and he suggested “The Little Match Girl” and I blanched because, “that’s such a horrible story”—truly, it’s a story I really dislike, because the entire thing is based on the little girl suffering and you’re supposed to learn a lesson from her death and that kind of narrative plays out a lot with queerness, too, and I’m so done with it—but my husband gave me a look and was all, “yeah, that’s why you’re re-writing these, isn’t it?” and um, yeah, he was right. It took me a while to find a way in—but when I was re-reading the story, that “way in” occurred to me through the flames and the visions she had every time she lit a match and… “The Future in Flame” happened.
“Not the Marrying Kind” is, as I mentioned yesterday, another obscure holiday story, based on “The Romance of a Christmas Card” by Kate Douglas Wiggin, written back in 1916, about two wayward sons returning on Christmas thanks to some Christmas cards. I won’t rehash here how I ended up deciding this one needed a queer retelling (you can click that link above) but one thing I didn’t mention yesterday was how much fun I had handling a character who—every single time she’s mentioned—is described as “a childless expert on the bringing up of babies.” Coming up with her little subplot made me giggle, and was a case of “More queer! Queer everything! Sprinkle rainbow glitter everywhere!”
“Most of ’81” came literally from the alignment of two things: one, I love the song “Christmas Wrapping” by the Waitresses (seriously, it’s one of the few songs I can still enjoy after years of holiday retail); and two, realizing how fucking awful 1981 was for queer people in Toronto. So, by shifting the story to a queer dude having that encounter in a ski-shop, and then running him through the year mentioned, I had more than enough to work with for a very queer retelling of one of my favourite songs.
“Folly” was the story I wrote specifically for this collection, and I’ve written about how that one came to be in another blog, too, but the short version was while I was looking for a new holiday song, carol, or story, I found the original version of “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas” and it occurred to me the voice of the poem was truly charming: this caring, compassionate person who is self-described as having “a little brain” and “not very bright” but obviously cares deeply for Johnny, Susy, and Nellie. From there, it wasn’t far for me to come up with a reason why this man was caring for these three children, and the lines about how Susy loves dollies but Nellie thinks they’re folly sparked something, too and then a healthy dose of spite had me adding in a bunch of things to the story: drag king Santa and drag queen elves at the local library, trans kids being treasured and supported and loved (like they damned well should be), a queer community looking out for each other, and a gay dad finding some romance.
So, there you have it! That’s all the origins of the various holiday stories in Upon the Midnight Queer.
Holiday tales, retold queerly…
A silk hat turns snow into life and a chance at love for a man with little hope of either. Two men with a connection sparked in passing attempt to withstand everything the tumultuous Toronto of 1981 throws their way, with their only remaining hope being Christmas Eve itself. A much-maligned queen of the snow teaches a young boy how to use his magic to find others of his kind. And a reindeer shines a light of its own, and with the help of the daughter of Father Time, brings gifts—and hope—to all those usually left behind.
Holiday magic connects these tales and more—tales heard and seen and sung before, familiar and joyous, or tender and bittersweet—all to the last told upon the midnight queer.
Upon the Midnight Queer is the second short story collection from Lambda Literary Award finalist ’Nathan Burgoine, and includes the brand new Little Village Holiday Novella, “Folly.”
