Advent Calendar Day 15
There is something uniquely comforting about listening to a story during the weeks leading up to Christmas. Perhaps it’s the way a narrator’s voice softens the edges of winter, or how spoken words seem to glow a little in the quiet of December evenings. Audiobooks slow the pace of the season—they invite you to pause, to breathe, to settle into a tale rather than rush through the noise of the holidays. In a way, they become a form of gentle companionship, a presence that walks with you through the shorter days and longer nights.
What I love most about Christmas-time listening is the way audiobooks become woven into small rituals. They turn mundane moments into something almost enchanted: folding laundry while snow taps the windows, stirring a pot simmering on the stove, wrapping presents on the floor with ribbons and scraps of paper around you. The right voice can make even ordinary movements feel ceremonial, as though the story is blessing the season as it unfolds around you. Listening becomes its own candlelit space—a refuge of warmth and narrative.
And then there’s the intimacy of it all. Audiobooks draw you into a mood rather than a plot, carrying you along on cadence and atmosphere. They make room for nostalgia, memory, and imagination to mingle freely. At Christmas, when we’re all instinctively seeking a bit of wonder, listening becomes a way to return to ourselves. A way to remember what we loved as children, or to create new rituals as adults. The story becomes a companion to the season—and for a moment, you feel held inside it.
Here’s what I’ve been listening this Christmas Season :
A boy called Christmas
by Matt Haig
Anything narrated by Stephen Fry feels like an immediate gold star in my book—and if you haven’t yet experienced his reading of the Harry Potter series, you’re in for a treat someday. So when I stumbled across the audiobook of A Boy Called Christmas by Matt Haig, performed by Fry himself, I was instantly delighted. There is something irresistible about following eleven-year-old Nikolas—a brave, curious child—into a snowy, enchanted world of elves, wonder, and quiet courage. It’s exactly the kind of tale that seems made for December, the kind you want to listen to while the lights are low and the world feels hushed.
Stephen Fry, as always, brings a kind of gentle magic to every sentence. And while I could never match his gift for storytelling, I still want to share with you the opening lines of the book, simply because they set the tone so beautifully:
You are about to read the true story of Father Christmas. It is a story that proves that nothing is impossible. If you are one of those people who believe that some things are impossible, you should put this book down right away. It is most certainly not for you. Because this book is FULL of impossible things.
A boy called Christmas, Matt Haig
Are you still reading?
Good. Then let us begin . . .
The Christmas Pig
by J.K. Rowling
My second December companion came from none other than J.K. Rowling and her newest tale, The Christmas Pig. When I listened to the audio sample, I was immediately struck by how many voices were woven into the recording—an entire cast bringing the story to life. I’m so glad I decided to give it a chance. It feels almost like listening to a beautifully produced radio play, yet with the richness and continuity of the full text behind it. Every character has a distinct voice, every moment is shaped with intention, and the whole atmosphere shimmers with that enchanted-fairyland feeling: toys waking, worlds unfolding, and the extraordinary lengths a young boy will go to for the friend he loves most.
And if you need a final gentle nudge toward it, here is a line that stayed with me:
Losing is part of living.
The Christmas Pig, J.K. Rowling
But some of us live even though we’re lost.
That’s what love does.
Written by Alexandra Poppy
Writer, reader & curator of The Ritual of Reading
I’m Alexandra, the voice behind The Ritual of Reading. Somewhere between a stack of novels and a half-finished pot of tea, I keep finding traces of the life I want to live—slower, richer, filled with stories. The Ritual of Reading is where I gather what I love: books that linger, places with a past, and rituals that make ordinary days feel a little more meaningful. I write from Paris, where elegant bookshops and old-fashioned cafĂ©s offer endless inspiration—and I share it here, hoping it brings a spark to your own days, too.
