ELLA: I’ve recently discovered just how much I choose books by their titles. I’ve always been a fan of judging by covers: I mean, if I’m going for a light-hearted holiday read, surely I’m far more likely to enjoy something that’s bright and quirky,perhaps with glittery letters, than something that attempts to sell itself with a bland close-up of a generic miserable looking woman in period dress. But it was only last time I looked at what I’d grabbed in the Waterstones 3 for 2 offer – The Elegance of A Hedgehog, We Are All Made of Glue, and The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society – that I realised how completely incapable I am of buying a book with an ordinary name.

So this Christmas, what bizarre titles will I be hoping to find under my tree? Well, I’ve had my eye on Kate Atkinson’s latest Jackson Brodie novel Started Early, Took My Dog for a while – I love the way she combines chilling murder stories with playful humour. Continuing with the animal theme, I can’t wait to get my hands on Sharon Creech’s Hate That Cat, a long-awaited companion to the unclassifiable poem/novella/diary Love That Dog. And I have to admit a slight curiosity for Coconut Unlimited by Nikesh Shukla, the story ofa group of private-school Asian teenagers who can’t quite pull off the gangster look. I didn’t say the titles had to be good; they just can’t be boring!

Maybe next time a relative asks what I want for Christmas, I should simply direct them to AbeBooks’ ‘Weird Book Room’. A brief glance at the titles on offer, from The Recently Deflowered Girl to Old Tractors and the Men Who Love Them, makes my current wish list look downright conventional.

CHRISTY: Regardless on your stance on the death of the author, writers’ letters are wonderfully fragmented collections of writings on art and craft, fame, and literary gossip, perfectly suited to the irregular reading life of a student. 2010 has been a good year for my obsession. The letters of two literary giants and Nobel winners on opposite sides of the Atlantic, Samuel Beckett and Saul Bellow, are constant attractions at Blackwell’s, as is Philip Larkin’s Letters to Monica and Iris Murdoch: a Writer at War.

Following introductions to Roberto Bolaño and Jorge Luis Borges, I’ve developed a taste for Spanish literature. Javier Marias’ Your Face Tomorrow trilogy – which James Lasdun has called ‘a work of supreme lunacy’ in the vein of Cervantes and Sterne – has won both attention and praise. Marias, who lectured in Spanish literature and translation at Oxford in the 1980s, used the city to serve as a backdrop for his novel All Souls, and I’m interested in the possibilities of his fusion of ‘Spanishness’ and ‘Englishness’. On a more adventurous note, the latest issue of Granta (#113) – attractively lemon-yellow, reminding us that the sun will come back eventually – is dedicated to the work of young and largely unfamiliar Spanish novelists. ¡Feliz Navidad!

We all search for them, even if we might not accept it.
We certainly miss them. And in a cold and dark December night we might even pay for them…

I am talking about emotions, feelgood ones, the kind of emotions you will only get from a perfect night at the theatre with a musical.
How about a classic one? A show where you sing along knowing all the lyrics by heart? Songs such as Do-re-mi, My Favourite Things, The Sound of Music will, I am sure, ring a bell or two.

This production was originally written by Rodgers and Hammerstein and was then adapted into the famous 1965 film with Julie Andrews. Let’s indulge in an unnecessary synopsis of the plot: Maria is to become a nun, but seems to be unfit for the role, and so she is sent to work as governess to the seven children of the naval officer Captain Georg Von Trapp. Thanks to her singing skills, joyful character and utter kindness, Maria conquers the whole family, including the captain. Then comes adventure, love, and, after a few bumps on the road, the inevitable happy ending to the strains of nuns singing. Of course music and the power it nurtures lie at the core of this show, for it is thanks to music that Maria and the Captain discover and face their feelings for each other. It is thanks to music once again that they escape from the Nazis towards the end.

Everything you can think of as entertaining is concentrated in this show: colourful sets and costumes, cheerful and straight forward acting and most of all clear and crisp singing from Maria (Connie Fisher and Philippa Buxton) and the rest of the cast.

In this magical world of music hall glossiness everything seems to work, the relationships are one-dimensional and surprisingly easy, everyone believes in feelings of love and righteousness. Life is simply “a white page to write on” as the song Sixteen going on Seventeen optimistically states. Whether or not you believe in such a rosy vision of life is not the question, it is more about indulging for a few hours, and really, what harm can it do, a little fairy tale in the wintery hour of the year?

The subject of faith should really be incompatible with cinema. The internal, silent struggles of religious men are seemingly completely at odds with visual excitement or insight, while a profound topic can often be dealt with all too flippantly or resolved far too tritely when presented on celluloid. Yet with Of Gods and Men, director Xavier Beauvois has shown that little needs to be said in order to portray compellingly the Manichean struggle between mortality and immortality. It is a film concerned largely with indecision, as psychological and spiritual turmoil are emblazoned painfully across the lined, ancient faces of its ensemble cast, and is a testament to the mantra that less is undoubtedly more.

Set in an Algerian monastery in the Atlas mountains, the film patiently shows us the ascetic, exacting existences of the seven monks who live there. For the first half an hour, the camera merely follows the monks as they go about their daily rituals – praying, bee-keeping, reading, ploughing the fields – and avoids any obvious or forced drama. These are men whose lives are lived at a slower, more considered pace, and Beauvois never allows his film to out-run its subjects. Indeed, the camera rarely moves, while there is no soundtrack or incidental music.

Yet rather than boring its audience, this artistic minimalism and reserve pay off greatly. From the first shot, there is an invaluable sense of authenticity being created, while this is aided by the impressively naturalistic performances of the central cast and an intelligently restrained script. Exposition is never indulged in, as the film shows rather than tells.

Soon, conflict arrives in the form of Islamic extremism. Villagers are being threatened and occasionally murdered, while in one particularly traumatic scene, an entire group of Croatian workers have their throats slit, with Beauvois dislodging the camera from its previously static position to lend the moment a sense of documentary-like realism. This violence that explodes so unexpectedly – and briefly – is completely at odds with the innocent, peaceful existence within the monastery, and is thus all the more effective. With the terrorists as a growing threat to the village and the monastery, the monks struggle to decide whether to return to France or remain where they are, and it is this dilemma that is the main focus of the film.

A great deal of Of Gods and Men is taken up by the silent prayers of the monks, and it is these scenes that are perhaps the most gripping and tragic of the film. The camera watches as men wordlessly kneel, heads bowed, and lingers as the silence gets louder and louder. They pray to an unresponsive, unsympathetic darkness, and Beauvois never hints at any divine presence or revelation, thus introducing an element of tragedy in their devotion. Indeed, the monks themselves acknowledge this fear, with one of the youngest brothers tearfully admitting, ‘I pray and I hear nothing.’

Yet despite examining faith in great depth, this is not a film concerned with the existence of God. Instead, its focus lies with brotherhood, friendship and love, and it deals with these subjects in a moving, subtle way. Its approach to these themes is one of sober maturity and patience, with only the ‘last supper’ scene indulging in anything approaching sentimentality (though by this point, Beauvois has undoubtedly earned the right to do so). Yet despite – or perhaps because of – such reserve in its story-telling, one cannot help but be gripped as time rapidly begins to run out for the monks, and the audience feels increasingly trapped within the confines of the monastery. With the internal struggles of each character etched onto their weathered faces, their dilemma becomes utterly compelling, while their struggle with faith is both fascinating and familiar. In its approach to religious faith, extremism, conflict and brotherhood, it is difficult to think of a film more profoundly relevant to the times in which we live.

Staying up in a desperate attempt to get some work done before Christmas takes over? Helping at interviews? Just can’t quite let go?

If the prospect of another evening in the library doesn’t appeal, fear not. Oxford’s drama scene doesn’t stop for the holiday, as the pros take over where the students leave off. Here’s what’s on in Oxford over the vacation- there are treats a-plenty in store.

Cinderella
Oxford Playhouse, until January 16

De-stress and rediscover your childhood with the Playhouse’s annual panto, which the Oxford Mail calls “the Playhouse’s best ever show”. With all the booing, hissing, cross-dressing and “he’s behind you”-ing that you expect, there are also touches for adults including some gentle political satire and an Eminem-style rap. Two live ponies put the icing on the foam pie. You’ll leave with a smile on your face, something that surely can’t be said often of the library.

The Sound of Music
New Theatre, until January 2

Fresh from the West End, this critically acclaimed touring production stars Connie Fisher, winner of the BBC talent show “How do you solve a problem like Maria?” alongside Michael Praed and Marilyn Hill Smith, and a troupe of all-singing all-dancing Von Trapp children. Packed full of classic songs and a touching, fast-moving plot, this is a definite must-see, though whether the play can live up to the heights of the classic film, with its beautiful Austrian scenery and more extended dialogue, is a subject for debate. Catch it while you can, as these are Fisher’s last performances as Maria after four years in the role.

Travesties, by Tom Stoppard
Simpkins Lee Theatre, LMH, until December 19

Based on historical reality, as James Joyce, Lenin and artist Tristan Tzara live in Zurich during the First World War. Joyce recruits a minor British consular official to act in a production of The Importance of Being Earnest, who promptly sues Joyce for the cost of a pair of trousers, and is sued in return for slander. Called by director Collin MacNee “a multi-layered knickerbocker glory of a comic confection”, it’s a fast-paced comedy with questions of the meaning of art and revolution at its centre, conveyed with characteristic Stoppard wit and sublimity.

Bath Time
BT, until December 19

If you’re still full of worldly cares after the pantomime, regress even further into your youth and check out this show, which claims to “celebrate in words, music, magic and puppets the games we all play in the bath.” It’s aimed at 2-5 year olds, but don’t let that put you off if it sounds like your cup of tea. Bubbles and rubber ducks guaranteed.

If this isn’t enough, London is only an hour away by train or coach. Pick of the capital’s copious Christmas fare is Derek Jacobi as King Lear at the Donmar Warehouse (until February 3)- but be warned, you may have to face early morning queues for day tickets and returns, as it’s sold out and tickets have gone for up to £500 on ebay. Tennessee Williams’ masterpiece The Glass Menagerie at the Young Vic (5* in the Independent) should be well worth seeing, as should Oscar Wilde’s An Ideal Husband at the Vaudeville Theatre.