Written by Pernille Meldgaard Pedersen⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐
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My thanks to author Pernille Meldgaard Pedersen for a free digital copy of her debut novel Him With the Beard in exchange for an honest review. There is a brief interview with Pernille under my review, and she has also provided a short extract for you to enjoy.
The blurb:
Do you remember that moment you stopped believing in Santa Claus?
When nine-year-old Mille suddenly no longer believes in Santa Claus, it turns the house upside down.
Her mother, Stella, is in a pickle as the hunt to find Santa Claus unearths some family secrets.
Christmas is at risk!
And there’s only one person who can save it.
Count down the days until Christmas with this tale about Santa Claus and Danish Christmas traditions.
The story takes 1-1.5 hour to read and is perfect for a busy Christmas month.
Short Story
Women's Fiction
My thoughts:
This is a short story in which Stella is made to question her own belief in Santa Claus after finding out that her daughter, Mille, no longer believes in him.Although I thought it was a little odd for a grown woman to still believe in Santa Claus, I felt Stella's pain as she saw the Christmases of her youth through adult eyes - the magic now stripped away for her.
When Stella's mother and her husband Kalle talk about what Santa Claus means to them, I found myself in complete agreement.
Him With the Beard was very different to what I had been expecting, but nonetheless a charming Christmas story, well-written and definitely thought-provoking. An ideal stocking-filler.
Q1. What’s your most favourite thing about being an author?
Writing is a creative outlet for me and I love that I with words alone can paint the picture I have in my head. Mind you, it's also one of the things I hate the most – when the words don't make any sense!Q2 What inspired you to write Him with the Beard?
The short answer is that I was angry with Santa Claus.
The longer version is that I remember very well that heartbroken feeling I had when I stopped believing in Santa. My trust was ruined because a shop Santa told me that I was too old to get a gift from him – not something the 8-year-old Santa Claus loving me understood. I wanted to write a story that was praising Santa and tell why he means so much to some, and why it is that you shouldn't let you dictate by other people into when you're too old to believe
Q3 What would you say is the most valuable lesson you have learned about self-publishing?
My self-publishing journey has only begun so I'm sure I still got a lot to learn, but I've been very interested in self-publishing for years (even before it was easily accessible like it is now) so I do feel I´m able to say that self-publishing is you being an entrepreneur, and like in any other business you need to be willing to learn and keep on learning, and willing to adjust as the business changes.Q4 Do you have another story planned or in progress? When can we expect to see that?
I am in the planning stages of another short story I hope will be a bit funny and a bit romantic. I hope to begin writing in January when Christmas has settled. I would much rather surprise people than disappoint them, so can't give a date for release as I don't know for sure :) But sign up to my social media or my newsletter and I will let you know when it's time. Until then... see you!Thank you for answering my questions, Pernille, and I look forward to reading your next book when it's published.
Enjoy this short extract from Chapter 1
In this scene Stella learns that her nine-year-old daughter no longer believes in Santa Claus.
I threw a little glitter here and a few spruce branches there, and with a high-pitched voice and the biggest smile on my face, I sang so loud the whole house shook.
“You better watch out! You better not cry! Better not pout, I’m telling you why! Santa Claus is coooooming to tooooown!”
Sausage, our chubby little dachshund, barked along with me. In my home, we loved Christmas. And not just loved – no, we LOVED Christmas!
Christmas was the best time of year, where the lights dispelled the darkness, where people were a bit kinder and where the lovely smell of clementines and spiced brown cookies drifted through the house. You’d never hear anyone say no to all the Christmas goodies. In fact, it was customary to have these in kilo bags, all served at once, while we all talked about how soon it would be January.
Like a kangaroo, I jumped onto the couch, trying to tie one end of the Christmas garland to the ceiling, but it wasn’t a very effective method, because you can’t jump and stand still in the air at the same time. On the other hand, it was really fun and mum-naughty.
I stopped my jumping when I, just my luck, heard the front door open. In came my two open-mouthed helpers.
Maybe I went a little nuts with the glitter?
HA! You could never have too much glitter!
“You’re home!” I shrieked and threw my arms excitedly around my beloved family. Maybe I was also a little high already from the combination of marzipan, mulled wine and CHRISTMAS.
My nine-year-old daughter Mille saw me coming and backed away comically until she reached the wall.
I squeezed her in a hug.
“Not the sweater,” she protested with flailing arms, her cheek completely mashed against mine.
Confused by her protest, I looked down at my best and most Christmassy sweater, with Santa in his sleigh pulled by his reindeer, and Rudolf’s nose still lit up. Nothing strange to see here!
Kalle, my husband, kissed my forehead with a happy smile.
“You’ve already started.”
“Yep! And I need a strong and tall man to hang things up, and a strong and culinary Christmas girl to help me bake in the kitchen.”
Three nudges of my elbow and a wink of my eye made Kalle move. Mille crossed her arms.
“I don’t want to help.” My heart almost stopped.
“What do you mean?! It’s Christmas! Of course you want to help! I’ve bought the ingredients for all your favourite cookies! Vanilla wreaths, peppernuts, klejner! I’ve also found your sack so Santa knows where to put your presents.”
“Santa? Just how stupid do you think I am? Santa is just something you’ve made up. I know that it’s Dad that puts the presents in the sack, and that it’s Preben from next door who dresses up as Santa every Christmas Eve.”
Now my heart really did stop.
“But Santa does exist. He puts presents in the sacks when we’re all asleep. You know that.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically.
“It’s true!” I protested.
“As if! Do you really want me to believe that there is a guy who’s lived for thousands of years and just so happens to know all the children’s wishes?”
“Why is that strange?” I asked confusedly. “We tell him our wishes in a letter, and…”
“And send it to the North Pole.” She finished my sentence with barely concealed mockery, her arms crossed. “But why hasn’t anyone found his house then?”
“It’s supposed to be a secret. And also, the North Pole is a big island…” Her foot began to tap.
“And what about the toys? Why would he make copies of items you can buy?” Why so suspicious?
“Because that’s what you’ve wished for?”
“And I suppose that the elves help him?” I shrugged. I assumed so.
“Reindeer can’t fly,” she continued. Now she was crossing a line.
“Santa’s can.”
“And where does he find them?”
“I don’t know…”
“No, because they don’t exist. And you can’t know the answers to things that don’t exist.”
“You can just ask Santa when he comes. He knows where he found them.”
“Mum, stop! Do you really want me to believe that?”
“But it’s the truth!”
“Fine, then we’ll say he ‘exists’.”
My eyes widened in surprise when she lifted her hands and did quotation marks around ‘exist’. I knew there was a first time for everything, but who taught her that?!
“But then explain this,” she continued. “How does one man manage to visit all the world’s children on a single night?”
I had to think about it for a bit.
“Well…you see, not everyone celebrates Christmas…and some countries have Christmas Eve on other dates…”
“That’s still millions of children on a single night!” she shouted, making me jump. I had never seen her this angry before. “Mum, stop lying. Santa doesn’t exist.” She turned and stomped up the stairs to her room.
“Mille! Are you okay?” I called after her. A bang sounded when she slammed her bedroom door.
Worried, I took the first step up the stairs to go see her, but Kalle stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Better let her be.”
“But something must have happened at school – she was looking forward to decorating this morning.”
“She’s probably just tired,” he told me calmly, and tried to distract me by being distractingly charming when he found his old elf hat in the Christmas box and put it on.
On the couch lay our Christmas sacks. Kalle took his.
“Well, then I’ll just hang my sack up in the usual spot, right next to the loft hatch. Then good old Santa won’t have to carry my heavy gifts too far.” He winked. He smiled when he finally got a smile out of me. Whistling, he went to the kitchen to hang his Christmas sack in the carefully calculated, strategic spot. When I was alone, I looked up the stairs with a strange feeling in my stomach.
Perhaps Kalle was right.
She was probably just tired.
| Author Bio – Pernille Meldgaard Pedersen |
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 Pernille was born in 1988 and loves that she was born in the decade with the tallest hair, the most colourful clothes, and the best music. Her imagination never stands still, and it’s often expressed in words and pictures. She wrote her first story when she was six years old. It was about the cat she unfortunately never got but wished for more than anything. She loves autumn and Christmas and believes in elves. From day to day she is a knight in training, an animator, and a secret agent – she has saved the world a few times by now. She’s also a professional daydreamer. She thinks the recipe for a good book is the same as the one for having a good life – a sense of kinship, humour, love, and that one thing that gives you a daily smile. Vestercity is a fictional city based on her upbringing near the city of Herning in Denmark. |
| Social Media Links – | |
| Web site | http://www.pernillemeldgaardpedersenuk.blogspot.com/ |
| https://www.instagram.com/pernillemeldgaardpedersen/ | |
| Facebook Author Page | https://www.facebook.com/PernilleMeldgaardPedersenAuthor/ |
| X | https://twitter.com/Pernille56 |
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