The Bride Of The Mistletoe

by James Lane Allen

The bride of the mistletoe is a piece of fiction. The narrative follows a married couple, whose lives are grounded in their rural Kentucky farmhouse, as they prepare for the Christmas celebration, dealing with love, family, and the passage of time. The story is set against the backdrop of winter solstice festivities, with elements of mystery surrounding the couple’s shared past and future. The beginning of the novel introduces a man deeply engaged in his writing as Christmas approaches, hinting at a significant secret that relates to his family and broader ideas about the celebration. He is surrounded by books and photographs of his wife and children, infusing the scene with warmth and nostalgia. The balance of domestic tranquility is disrupted when his wife enters the room, leading to a revealing conversation about their mutual feelings and the idea of being an incident in each other’s lives. As they prepare for Christmas, tension builds, foreshadowing a pivotal moment that ties together past sacrifices, love, and the upcoming celebration, while subtly alluding to the deeper meanings of the traditions they hold dear.

84 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1909

About the author

James Lane Allen was an American novelist and short story writer whose work often depicted the culture and dialects of his native Kentucky. His work is characteristic of the late-19th century local color era, when writers sought to capture the vernacular in their fiction. Allen has been described as "Kentucky's first important novelist."

Reviews

[Cheryl Sailor · Rating 4 out of 5]

More than anything, The Bride of the Mistletoe is a tragedy at its core. The author blends the tragedy with lush descriptions of nature, particularly trees and of course his native state of Kentucky.

The story involves two middle aged people in a Kentucky farm house who have had children, have had deaths in the family and have intimately shared each others lives and thoughts for decades. The tragedy comes wrapped on Christmas eve, also significantly their wedding anniversary, in a gift from the husband to his wife. It is the story of his research of her question the previous year about the origin of the holiday tree. While he reads some of it aloud and winds around the passages of time, she awaits with one and only one very, very important concern.

Her answer is found first in the sacrifice of ancient druidic virgins to the lust of priests under the mistletoe. Secondly her answer is found in her husband's utter silence in answer to her queries and ends in her, "--waiting" for something that would never come.

[D'ipanjenah Ali · Rating 3 out of 5]

What begins as a poetic, exceptionally romantic Christmas story takes the most unexpected turn midway. I wasn't expecting it to go back and draw on the history behind every kind of ornament we put on a Christmas tree. After that surprising elaboration of traditions, the story gets pretty confusing. To me it felt as if dreams and memories were being superimposed on the characters' reality. I couldn't fully comprehend the last part of the book but in essence, it felt like a tragedy. Perhaps a second read will bring in more clarity.

[Sara]

Its tragedy poet not novel full of pic of chrismas tree and pep and oak and nautre behind a mask of religon talk about mrriage from darkest sight.

[Sherry Chandler · Rating 2 out of 5]

Set aside the racism ("frolicking servants"), sexism (a wife whose world revolves around her husband), and purple prose style, this is an odd little Christmas tale in which Allen seems to be trying to make a parallel between a modern marriage and a legend that ancient druids sacrificed a mistletoe bride to the god of the oak tree.

As you may gather, it seems to be a species of horror story.

Allen is considered Kentucky's local colorist. Mark Twain is the only writer who rose above that genre. Allen does not. I didn't read this edition but what may have been the original, checked out of the library.

I wanted to get a feel for period life and attitudes. I guess it was okay for that. It was readable. Just very dated. And a little embarrassing.

[Susan Molloy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Enjoyable reading.

“A handful of some of the green things of winter lay before her picture: holly boughs with their bold, upright red berries; a spray of the cedar of the Kentucky yards with its rosary of piteous blue.”

[Jacqueline · Rating 2 out of 5]

Very old fashioned writing, but has lasting value as insight into the nineteenth century.

[Dave · Rating 2 out of 5]

Verbosity that would rival Dickens. Strange mixture of philosophy and folklore.