PREFACE
by
Tina Connolly
The Santaman came reeking of love into this place and we did not know him.
The first time I encountered this story, I was struck by the gorgeous mix of strange and familiar presented right there in the opening. Not Santa, but The Santaman. Poetry and faith and world-strands and ash and here is the Santaman, reeking of love.
I love stories that deal with the intersection of myth and faith and reality. I love stories that feel like they are just a small piece of a fantastical whole; that there is a massive iceberg of worldbuilding, just out of sight. There are a million beautiful details in Ken’s piece that speak to a world we can half imagine, half comprehend; a world set just around the corner from ours. We don’t know if that corner is a step into the future, or a sidle into an alternate world. We don’t need to. We see father and daughter preparing their red paper hats with the cotton ball, and we understand that they are carrying out very old, very familiar traditions.
I buried my father on Dragon’s Mass Eve.
The second time I encountered this story, it was to help bring it to life in a different way. Marshal Latham from the podcast “Journey Into . . .” asked me to narrate Mel Farrelly’s story, as part of a larger, full cast recording. I jumped at the chance immediately. As an actor, some characters just speak to you. You know exactly how you want to inhabit them, how to help them say what they want to say. Mel is dealing with grief and holidays and moving forward into life again. She is the guardian for an absent hope mine. Hope is powdery and flaky, bitter and sweet. Hope has been absent for a very long time.
No one really believed in the Santaman until he came with his tattered red robe and his dripping red sword.
When the hope mine is dead, how do you believe that hope will be found once more? When the Dragon’s Mass Eves continue to be cold and clear, how do you believe that the Santaman will ever return? Being right, says Mel’s father, is not always required.
This is his story. This is our story, too.
There are common themes in Ken’s work. Of love and faith and a world full of half-understood legends; beliefs dissolving around you. Of people, plunging forward, trying to do the right thing. Of trying to find a way forward, even if we don’t really know if the Santaman will ever come again, and we aren’t quite sure we believe. Of finding hope, where all was lost. If Dragon’s Mass Eve Be Cold And Clear deals with all of these. It is strange and wondrous and compassionate and gorgeous, and I hope you love it, too.