Jultomten i John Crowleys Little, big

Om jul är ett lite udda tema inom science fiction så är det desto vanligare med julberättelser inom fantasygenren.
En fantasyroman jag läste i år var John Crowleys Little, big. Det är en märklig roman. En släktkrönika om en familj som har kontakt med älvor, fairies. Men boken är berättad i en höglitterär stil och älvorna befinner sej ofta i bakgrunden.
Så när det i förbigående kommer fram att jultomten i romanens värld finns på riktigt så hajade jag till litet.

I ett kapitel sitter alla i huset och skriver brev till tomten, både barn och vuxna (det verkar emellertid inte som om de vuxna tror på tomten, i alla fall inte i nyktert tillstånd). Sen går skildringen över till jultomten när han tar emot breven:

"When he received these communications, Santa drew the claws of his spectacles from behind his ears and pressed the sore place on the bridge of his nose with thumb and finger. What was it they expected him to do with these?[...]But it was growing late; if they, or anyone else, were disappointed in him tomorrow, it wouldn't be the first time. He took his furred hat from its peg and drew on his gloves. He went out, already unaccountably weary though the journey had not even begun, into the multicolored arctic waste beneath a decillion stars, whose near brilliance seemed to chime, even as the harness of his reindeer chimed when they raised their shaggy heads at his approach, and as the eternal snow chimed too when he trod it with his booted feet."