Reginald, the narrator of this short meditation on unwanted seasonal gifts, wastes absolutely no time at all in stating that he does not want a "George, Prince of Wales" Prayer-book as a Christmas present. In this opening sentence Saki uncannily identifies a trend that has endured for over a century since the story was first published. The author was a casualty of the battle of Ancre in 1916, where he fell prey to a sniper's bullet, and sadly did not live to see the better world that followed the war, where no-one would ever think of gifting a loved one a copy of a "George, Prince of Wales" Prayer-book without being expressly asked to do so.
Equally enduring is Reginald's account of the dread that accompanies the arrival of a tie from a well-meaning, country-dwelling, female relative - “some spotted horror that you could only wear in secret or in Tottenham Court Road”. As with the "George, Prince of Wales" Prayer-book, the undesirable nature of such a gift is as relevant in 2018 as it was when these words were first committed to paper.
Reginald's friends have seen fit to furnish him with multiple copies of the cheaper editions of Omar Khayyam, which he re-gifts to lift attendants. What Reginald regards as a well-meant, but mistaken, assumption on the part of his associates, the reader may conclude is actually an ongoing practical joke.
The thrust of Reginald's argument is that, in the science of Christmas gifting, civilization (which during the time of Saki had come up with tea bags, the windscreen wiper and paper cups, none of which should ever be considered appropriate Christmas presents ) has dragged it collective feet. Little, if any, advancement has been made in this area during the ensuing decades.
Maybe the best we can do, as we advance into the festive season, is to heed the words of Reginald: Avoid the stacks of "George, Prince of Wales" Prayer-books that overpopulate the foyers of the larger chain book-stores at this time of year, and the ubiquitous racks of red mittens pawing at us from the entrances of those high-street fashion outlets that have managed to cling on to solvency, and instead gamble our money on something more exotic that we hope will kindle a spark of gratitude in the eyes of our nearest and dearest.
Mark Sadler lives in Southend-on-Sea. His work has mostly appeared on the Smoke: A London Periodical website. He is writing a novel set in London at the turn of the Millennium, and inspired by a misheard Tindersticks lyric.
You can read Reginald on Christmas Presents here, and Mark's own story for Liars' League, The Brotherhood of One, here.
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