The days of anticipation are behind us. The lists have been written, rewritten, and finally set aside. The world feels quieter now — not because there is nothing left to do, but because something has been decided.
Tonight is for reading.
Jolabokaflod was never meant to be loud. It does not demand attention or insist on spectacle. It asks only for a book, a little time, and the willingness to be still. In a season so often filled with movement and noise that simplicity feels almost radical.
I like to think of Christmas Eve reading not as a tradition to perform, but as a threshold to cross. A moment when the year loosens its grip just enough for us to step into story — not to escape the world, but to return to it more gently.
Tonight, the book you open does not need to be impressive. It does not need to be new. It does not need to change your life.
It only needs to keep you company.
Whether you read for five minutes or fifty pages, whether you read aloud or silently, whether the house is full or completely still — the act itself matters. It marks the evening. It gives the season a resting place.
Across Iceland, across homes around the world, people are doing something quietly similar tonight. Sitting down. Opening a book. Letting words arrive one by one. Not rushing. Not measuring. Simply reading.
That shared stillness is the heart of Jolabokaflod.
Over the past twenty-four days, we’ve wandered through cosy corners, old favourites, short stories, slow reading, childhood memories, and last-minute gifts. But all of it has been leading here — to this moment, when the only thing left to do is begin.
📚 Tonight’s Reading Choice
There is no list today. No recommendation to follow. No shelf to browse.
Tonight, the right book is the one already in your hands.
So wherever you are, however you celebrate, I invite you to do one small thing before the evening slips away:
Sit down. Open your book. Read.
Let Christmas arrive quietly. Let the story do its work. And let this simple act carry you — gently — into the days ahead.
Christmas Eve carries a particular kind of energy.
It’s quieter than the days before it, but fuller than the days that follow. The rush has largely passed. The waiting is nearly over. And somewhere in between, a small pocket of calm opens — if we choose to notice it.
In Iceland, Jolabokaflod Eve is not about doing more.
It’s about settling in.
Books are exchanged. Pyjamas appear early. Chocolate is unwrapped without ceremony. The world narrows to the simple, generous idea that tonight is for reading — not achieving, not preparing, not performing.
Over the years, I’ve come to think of Christmas Eve reading not as an activity, but as a kit. A few carefully chosen elements that make the evening feel held and complete. When these are in place, the rest tends to follow naturally.
So today, on Day 23 of our Jolabokaflod Advent Calendar, I invite you to assemble your own Reading Survival Kit — not as a checklist, but as a gentle ritual.
🎄 The Jolabokaflod Eve Reading Survival Kit
One Book Not a decision to agonise over. Choose something that feels right for tonight. Comforting, absorbing, or quietly beautiful.
Something Sweet Chocolate, biscuits, fruit, or a favourite treat. Reading pairs well with a little indulgence.
Warm Layers Socks, a blanket, pyjamas — anything that signals the day is done.
Soft Light A lamp, a candle, fairy lights. Enough to read without pulling the room back into daytime.
Permission to Stop This may be the most important item. Permission to read only a few pages — or many. Permission to sleep early. Permission to enjoy the moment without documenting it.
I remember one Christmas Eve when everything else fell away unexpectedly. The house was still. The book was good. The night passed quietly — and it remains one of the most peaceful Christmas memories I have.
That’s the gift of Jolabokaflod Eve:
It gives the season somewhere to land.
📚 Today’s Reading Picks — “Jolabokaflod Eve Books”
Perfect companions for the night before Christmas:
Murder on the Orient Express — Agatha Christie: The world’s greatest detective, Hercule Poirot, must identify the prime suspects from among the small but disparate group of remaining passengers– before the murderer decides to strike again.
The Winter People – Jennifer McMahon: Simmering psychological thriller about ghostly secrets, dark choices and the unbreakable bond between mothers and daughters.
There comes a point every December when the mood shifts.
The lists are shorter. The days are fuller. The sense of “I should have done this earlier” hums quietly in the background. And yet — this is often when book-giving becomes most intuitive.
Because when time is short, instinct takes over.
Last-minute book-givers tend to worry that haste leads to poor choices. But I’ve noticed the opposite. When we stop overthinking, we often choose better. We reach for books that feel right rather than ones that look impressive. We think about the person, not the prestige.
The secret to last-minute book-giving is not speed.
It’s matching.
Instead of searching for “the best book”, we look for the right kind of book — something that fits a personality, a mood, a way of moving through the world. Once you do that, the decision becomes surprisingly calm.
Today, on Day 22 of our Jolabokaflod Advent Calendar, I invite you to let go of the pressure and use this simple guide. No trawling. No panic. Just thoughtful shortcuts.
🎁 The Jolabokaflod Last-Minute Book-Giver’s Guide
For the Comfort-Seeker Choose gentle fiction, reflective non-fiction, or familiar favourites. Look for: warmth, kindness, reassurance.
For the Curious Thinker Idea-led non-fiction, essays or books that invite reflection without heaviness. Look for: curiosity, clarity, quiet depth.
For the Escapist Immersive novels, rich worlds, strong atmosphere. Look for: transport, absorption, momentum.
For the Reluctant Reader Short books, clear voices, emotional immediacy. Look for: accessibility, brevity, early rewards.
For the Aesthetic Lover Beautiful hardbacks, illustrated books, elegant editions. Look for: design, tactility, visual pleasure.
For the Nostalgic Soul Classics, childhood favourites, seasonal rereads. Look for: familiarity, memory, emotional resonance.
You don’t need to get it perfect. You just need to get it close. Books are generous that way — they meet the reader halfway.
📚 Today’s Reading Picks — “Last-Minute Book Wins”
Reliable, widely loved books that suit many readers:
There is an hour in late December that feels unlike any other.
It might arrive early in the morning, before the house wakes. Or late at night, after the dishes are done and the lights are low. Outside, the world is hushed. Inside, there is nothing urgently asking for your attention.
This is the quietest hour of the year.
I’ve come to recognise it not by the clock, but by the feeling. The sense that time has loosened. That no one is waiting for a response. That the noise of obligation has briefly stepped aside. When this hour appears, reading feels less like an activity and more like a natural response.
During one such hour a few winters ago, I opened a book almost instinctively. There was no plan to read much — just enough to fill the silence. But the silence held. The pages turned slowly. The hour stretched. And when it passed, I felt steadier than I had in days.
That is the gift of reading in deep quiet:
It meets stillness with stillness.
Some books are especially suited to this hour. They don’t rush you forward. They don’t demand sustained alertness. They feel content to sit beside you while the world rests. These are not books for multitasking. They are books for presence.
Today, on Day 21 of our Jolabokaflod Advent Calendar, I invite you to notice when your quietest hour arrives. Don’t schedule it. Don’t announce it. Just recognise it when it comes — and meet it with a book that understands the moment.
🌙 Today’s Reading Picks — “Books for the Quietest Hour”
There is a particular pleasure in finishing a story in a single sitting.
Not because it is quick, but because it is complete. A whole world opened and closed within the space of an evening. A beginning, a middle, and an ending that fits neatly into the shape of winter time.
December is especially kind to short stories.
The days are fragmented. Evenings arrive in pieces. Energy comes in waves rather than long stretches. Short stories understand this rhythm. They don’t ask us to clear an entire afternoon. They meet us where we are — tired, busy, hopeful — and offer something whole without asking for more than we can give.
I used to think of short stories as something secondary. A warm-up. A side dish. But one winter, reading story after story over the course of December, I realised they were doing something novels sometimes struggle to do: giving me repeated moments of arrival.
Each story felt like opening a small gift.
Winter short stories are especially powerful because they work with the season rather than against it. They are perfect for late evenings, quiet mornings, or those in-between moments when starting a longer book feels like too much. They remind us that reading does not have to be continuous to be meaningful.
Today, on Day 20 of our Jolabokaflod Advent Calendar, I invite you to treat December like a literary festival — one where each story is a standalone event. No pressure to keep going. No need to remember where you left off. Just the pleasure of stepping briefly into a carefully shaped world, then returning refreshed.
🎭 Today’s Reading Picks — “Winter Short Story Festival”
Beautiful collections to dip into throughout the season:
There are certain books that seem to carry Christmas inside them.
You open the cover, and suddenly you’re smaller. The room feels bigger. The lights are softer. Time stretches in that peculiar way it only ever did when you were young and December felt endless.
For many of us, our earliest reading memories are inseparable from Christmas. A book opened on the carpet while the adults talked. A story read aloud before bed. A familiar cover brought out once a year, like a decoration made of paper and ink.
These books did more than entertain us. They taught us what comfort felt like.
I can still remember the particular hush of Christmas reading as a child — the sense that nothing else was expected of me in that moment. No achievement. No performance. Just attention and imagination. Looking back, it’s no surprise that so many lifelong readers trace their love of books back to these early, gentle encounters.
What’s remarkable is how powerfully these stories work when we return to them as adults.
We notice different things. We read with more patience, more tenderness. But the emotional core remains unchanged. The same sense of safety. The same quiet joy. The same feeling of being held by a story.
Today, on Day 19 of our Jolabokaflod Advent Calendar, I invite you to revisit — or pass on — the books that shaped Christmas reading for so many of us. Whether you’re giving them to a child, sharing them aloud, or reclaiming them for yourself, these stories still know exactly what to do.
This Christmas, remember the books that once made the world feel safe and magical. They are still doing that work — quietly, patiently — for anyone willing to open them again.
Before the paper. Before the ribbon. Before the gift disappears beneath the tree.
There is a small, almost secret ritual I’ve come to treasure at this time of year: opening a book before it is wrapped.
Not to read it properly. Not to spoil anything. Just a page or two. Enough to meet the voice. Enough to sense the weight of the story. Enough to understand what kind of companion this book might become for the person who will receive it.
I started doing this accidentally one December evening while preparing gifts late at night. A book lay open on the table, waiting. I read the first paragraph. Then the second. Then I stopped — not because I wasn’t enjoying it, but because I’d seen enough. The book had introduced itself. And suddenly, wrapping it felt different.
Because once you’ve read even a fragment, you’re no longer giving an object. You’re giving a relationship.
Books are unusual gifts in that they carry more than we can see. They contain moods, voices, pacing, silences. Reading the opening pages allows us to sense whether a book is gentle or bracing, playful or reflective, expansive or intimate. It helps us give with intention rather than guesswork.
This ritual does something else too. It slows the moment down.
In a season full of haste — last orders, final lists, hurried errands — opening a book quietly before wrapping it feels almost radical. It turns gift-giving into a pause rather than a task.
Today, on Day 18 of our Jolabokaflod Advent Calendar, I invite you to try it. Before you wrap a book this year, read just enough to understand why you chose it. Let that understanding travel invisibly with the gift.
🎁 Today’s Reading Picks — “Before You Wrap It” Books
Beautiful, gift-worthy books that reward even a few pages:
There is a posture that belongs almost entirely to winter.
It’s not sitting upright at a desk. It’s not lying flat with intention. It’s something in between — knees drawn up, shoulders softened, book resting wherever it finds space.
A posture that says:
I am not going anywhere.
Curling up with a book is one of the first reading habits many of us ever learn. As children, we instinctively read this way — on sofas, on beds, on the floor, tucked into corners that feel safe and small. Somewhere in adulthood, many of us forget that reading is allowed to be physical. Comfortable. Nest-like.
But winter remembers for us.
I noticed this one evening when I realised I had been trying to read “properly” — straight-backed, alert, almost performative. The book felt distant. Then I shifted. Blanket pulled closer. Legs tucked in. The change was immediate. My body relaxed — and my attention followed.
That’s the quiet truth of curling up to read:
Comfort invites presence.
When the body feels safe, the mind wanders more freely into story. There’s less resistance. Less restlessness. Curling up is not laziness; it is a form of listening — a way of telling the book you are willing to stay.
Winter offers us permission to read this way again. To choose softness over structure. To let the book fit around us, rather than forcing ourselves to fit around the book.
Today, on Day 17 of our Jolabokaflod Advent Calendar, I invite you to reclaim this small, forgotten art. Build yourself a nest. Adjust until nothing aches. Let the outside world recede — and allow a story to come closer.
Murder on the Orient Express — Agatha Christie: The world’s greatest detective, Hercule Poirot, must identify the prime suspects from among the small but disparate group of remaining passengers– before the murderer decides to strike again.
The Winter People – Jennifer McMahon: Simmering psychological thriller about ghostly secrets, dark choices and the unbreakable bond between mothers and daughters.
Every so often, winter gives us an unexpected gift.
A day when the world pauses. Roads quieten. Plans dissolve. Messages change from “on my way” to “let’s see how it goes.” Whether caused by real snowfall or simply the sense that nothing much is expected of us, these are what I think of as snow days — even when the snow exists only in spirit.
Snow days create rare pockets of unclaimed time.
They don’t ask us to be efficient. They don’t reward multitasking. They invite us to settle. To stretch an afternoon. To let hours blur together without apology.
And few things suit this kind of time better than a book that knows how to hold you.
Snow day books are immersive without being exhausting. They are absorbing rather than demanding. Once you enter them, they create their own weather system — one you’re happy to stay inside for a while.
I remember a winter afternoon when everything I had planned quietly fell away. Outside, the light was flat and pale. Inside, a novel opened a door into another life entirely. When I finally looked up, the room had darkened and the day was gone. It felt like a gift I hadn’t known I needed.
That is the particular magic of snow day reading:
It allows us to disappear safely.
Today, on Day 16 of our Jolabokaflod Advent Calendar, I invite you to prepare for your next pause. Choose a book that can stretch across a long afternoon. One that doesn’t mind being read in great, generous chunks.
Murder on the Orient Express — Agatha Christie: The world’s greatest detective, Hercule Poirot, must identify the prime suspects from among the small but disparate group of remaining passengers– before the murderer decides to strike again.
The Winter People – Jennifer McMahon: Simmering psychological thriller about ghostly secrets, dark choices and the unbreakable bond between mothers and daughters.
Sometimes it’s a blanket. Sometimes it’s a lamp turned low. And very often, it’s something warm held carefully between both hands. A mug that needs a moment before the first sip. Steam rising. The promise of comfort.
Books and hot drinks share something important: they ask us to pause.
Over the years, I’ve noticed that certain books seem to pair naturally with certain drinks. Not because of rules or aesthetics, but because of mood. The pace of the prose. The emotional temperature of the story. The way the book makes time feel.
A brisk, thoughtful essay feels different with tea than it does with coffee. A gentle novel asks for something softer. A book full of memory and melancholy almost demands warmth.
So today, on Day 15 of our Jolabokaflod Advent Calendar, I invite you to treat reading like a small café experience. No rush. No productivity. Just a pairing chosen for pleasure.
☕️ The Jolabokafloð Literary Hot Drinks Menu
Tea + Quiet Reflection Best with books that unfold gently, inviting contemplation rather than momentum. Try: nature writing, reflective essays, slow nonfiction.
Coffee + Curiosity For mornings or afternoons when your mind feels alert and eager. Try: idea-driven nonfiction, sharp novels, books full of conversation.
Hot Chocolate + Comfort Fiction Rich, sweet, and unapologetically soothing. Try: cosy novels, nostalgic rereads, gentle humour.
Mulled Wine + Atmospheric Stories Warming, indulgent, best enjoyed in the evening. Try: historical fiction, winter-set novels, richly textured worlds.
Herbal Tea + Bedtime Reading Soft, calming, and unhurried. Try: poetry, short stories, books you can finish before sleep.
There is no correct pairing, of course. But noticing what feels right can quietly deepen your enjoyment. The book slows the drink. The drink anchors the book. Together, they create a small pocket of winter calm.
📚 Today’s Reading Picks — “Literary Pairings”
Books that shine when matched with a favourite warm drink:
Murder on the Orient Express — Agatha Christie: The world’s greatest detective, Hercule Poirot, must identify the prime suspects from among the small but disparate group of remaining passengers– before the murderer decides to strike again.
The Winter People – Jennifer McMahon: Simmering psychological thriller about ghostly secrets, dark choices and the unbreakable bond between mothers and daughters.
Jolabokaflod 