When it comes to my reading tastes, sugar, spice, and happily-ever-afters aren’t usually my thing. I’m more of a thriller fan. Give me suspenseful storytelling and shocking twists any day! And okay, I won’t lie—a spicy side romance simmering in the background never hurts.

But every year, like clockwork, as the temperatures drop and Mariah Carey starts defrosting, my tastes take a surprisingly Hallmark-ish turn. Cue the Christmas music, excessive baking, and cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies becoming my go-to background noise. I happily chuckle at the predictable storylines of corporate Jane Does getting snowed in with hunky small-town John Does. As long as I can remember this has been a cheery, must-do holiday activity. Are they cinematic masterpieces? Absolutely not. But for one month a year, I’m all in.

As an avid reader, I’ve tried to translate this cozy, feel-good holiday vibe into my winter TBR. I mean just look at these festive covers–they’re true works of art! They draw me in like a moth to the flame. How could I resist? There’s just one problem: I cannot bring myself to actually enjoy reading Christmas romance books!

Doesn’t it suck to want to like something so badly, but you just… can’t? Unfortunately for me, my brain rejects most Christmas romance novels unless they have another hook—like a murder mystery (The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year), a thriller (You Better Watch Out) or, okay, being unapologetically smutty (How My Neighbor Stole Christmas). I reviewed a handful of Christmas books in a recent video here.

I have several hypotheses about why my brain rejects typical “Hallmark holiday books” and not movies. 

Hypothesis 1: You can watch ambient TV, but you can’t ambiently read books. 

Earlier this year, I read Laurie Gilmore small-town romance book, The Christmas Tree Farm, and my mind started wandering almost immediately. The writing was lackluster. The one-dimensional characters bored me and somehow went from enemies to lovers in an unbelievably short time span. Holiday metaphors ran wild–I wanted to throw my book at the wall, not just because I felt like I wasted my time. But because I was mad at myself for not being able to enjoy it like the vast majority of readers online. I’ve reviewed all the Dream Harbor books so far on my BookTube.

In my frustration, I realized that my brain just treats holiday movies differently than holiday books. The medium of TV allows you turn holiday movie watching into an ambient or even social activity that doesn’t necessarily demand your full attention the way a book does. Watching holiday movies is a passive activity; reading requires active engagement. 

Movies let you multitask—you can glance up while baking cookies, playing games with family, or working on a festive adult coloring book. But with a book, if my attention starts to wander, it’s game over. Books demand focus; they rely on your imagination to bring the scenes to life. If a book isn’t a hard-hitting page-turner with relatable characters or compelling substance, I’m out. Give me my scary books back!

Hypothesis 2: Bad holiday movies are a guilty-pleasure tradition. Bad holiday books feel like a waste of time. 

Something else my annoying brain fights with me on is that reading is inherently an educational experience. In school we’re taught that books are for learning and TV is entertainment, so there’s less pressure to watch intellectually stimulating content. When I take time out of my day to read, I want complicated characters, beautiful prose, or a plot with breadcrumbs leading to a genius twist–like in my favorite books of 2024!

Holiday romance books, unfortunately, rarely check those boxes. The formulaic storylines, tired tropes, and obligatory happily-ever-afters just don’t cut it for me.

Bad holiday movies, on the other hand? Bring on the cheese! Laughing at their over-the-top ridiculousness is fun, whether I’m watching alone or with family and friends. But reading a bad holiday book alone? That’s a different story. It just makes me feel sad—or to borrow a repetitive metaphor from All I Want is You by Fallon Ballard, “like you just found out Santa Claus wasn’t real!” And sometimes even embarrassed—“red as Rudolph the reindeer’s nose!”

Let’s be honest: lines like that are only acceptable when delivered by Lacey Chabert, or Lindsay Lohan–our newest holiday movie queen. I haven’t even mentioned the fact that holiday movies are getting spicier and enticing millennials with recycled actors from our youth. 

In other words, I’m willing to lower my standards for movies during the holidays, but when it comes to books? I want top-shelf quality or nothing—no matter how cute the covers are. Sigh.

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