Winter Book Club: A Christmas Carol

This message is from GiveDirectly, a nonprofit that sends cash directly to the world's poorest people. Pods Fight Poverty is supporting 700 families in Rwanda with donations matched through December 31. Visit givedirectly.org/podcast. Hi. Ren here. Somehow, we are almost at the end of 2025. A lot happened this year, and it's been a tough one for NPR and local stations. We lost federal funding for public media. We've seen relentless attacks on a free press. But we're not going anywhere. Here at THROUGHLINE, we will keep bringing you immersive, entertaining stories that answer our guiding question, how did we get here? If you're already a ThruLine Plus supporter, thank you so much. We see you, and we're really grateful for you. If not, please consider joining the community of public radio supporters right now before the end of the year at +.npr.org. Signing up unlocks a bunch of perks like bonus episodes and more from across NPR's podcast. Plus, you get to feel good about supporting public media while you listen. End the year on a high note and invest in a public service that matters to you. Visit +.npr.org today. Thanks. Welcome back to THROUGHLINE's Winter Book Club. Today, we're gonna start by telling you a story. Once upon a time, Of all the good days in the year on Christmas Eve, old Scrooge sat busy in his counting house. It was cold, bleak, biting weather, foggy withal, And he could hear the people in the court outside go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already. The door of Scrooge's counting house was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, whom in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal box in his own room. Wherefore, the clerk put on his white comforter and tried to warm himself at the candle. Merry Christmas, uncle. God save you. Cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach. Bah? Said Scrooge. Hubbunk. Christmas a humbug, uncle? Said Scrooge's nephew. You don't mean that, I'm sure. I do, said Scrooge. Merry Christmas. What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough. Come then, returned the nephew gaily. What right have you to be so dismal? What right have you to be so morose? You're rich enough. Scrooge, having no better answer ready on the spur of this moment, said, baa again. Baa. And followed it up with, humbug. Don't be cross, uncle, said the nephew. What else can …