Here's a chapter-by-chapter glimpse of its workings.

In Chapter 1 we meet Zeck Morgan, ultra-pious son of a preacher who inveighs against all things modern. Zeck happens to be just the sort of genius kid the authorities are looking for to train as a soldier, and they arrive to haul him away.

Chapter 2 provides a glimpse into the Wiggin household back on Earth, where his mother mourns Ender's absence and his brother Peter manifests his own psychopathic nature. Chapter 3 returns to Zeck as he learns exactly what his new life will entail, and he takes a silent vow of passive resistance.

A jump of time and space brings us to Chapter 4. Zeck has for some time been aboard the Battle Station, a place where religious observance is strictly forbidden. And while he nominally obeys orders, he is at heart noncompliant and an obvious military washout. Meanwhile, two Dutch boys named Dink and Flip celebrate on a whim the tradition of Sinterklass Eve with its gift-giving rituals. Chapter 5 reveals that Zeck has observed this modest moment, and he uses the incident as leverage with the commanders to bring punishments and new edicts down on his hated peers.

But in the next chapter the boys begin a defiant covert program of gift-giving—the war of gifts. Chapter 7 finds Muslim cadets reacting by actually praying in the open. A crackdown in Chapter 8 leaves Zeck at the mercy of his disdainful peers. He seems destined for a literal death by tribal exclusion, until Ender makes a breakthrough with him in the final two chapters.

Hot-button issues at the holiday season

Orson Scott Card has a history of creating stories that generate controversy, and I believe this one will be no exception, with its seesawing stances on the suppression and promotion of religion. As a potential seasonal gift book meant to warm and inspire and evoke the best nostalgic sentiments of the season, I have to say that it falls short. I cannot imagine anyone feeling all sugarplummy, Norman-Rockwell-Xmas-y after reading this somewhat confused and unclear book. It's not that there's anything wrong with being somewhat obscure and enigmatic and open-ended in your tone and message; it's just that such a book doesn't really resonate spiritually the way I think Card intended.

At the heart of the trouble is the figure of Zeck. Is his faith good or bad? Card delivers an ambivalent message, despite definitively reporting that Zeck suffered abuse at the hands of his zealous father. Are we meant to admire, despise or pity Zeck? All three emotions are free-floating in a cloud around this character, contributing to a confusing reading.

Other similar bafflements obtain. Are the authorities wrong or right to impose secularism? Was the mild protest by Dink and Flip and the other cadets good and rational, while the Muslim praying was over the edge and irrational? The messages are just too mixed to cohere. And while these unanswered questions might reflect reality better than a simplistic black/white division, it's hardly conducive to a jolly reading experience.

(Some of this confusion even extends to the actual prose, such as when we suddenly jump out of Zeck's point of view into the consciousness of Commander Graff as the older man is lecturing him in Chapter 5.)

Finally, there's the Christ-like character of Ender Wiggin to deal with. He's just too much the martyr and lamb in this tale to be entirely palatable.

Consider a seasonal classic like Dr. Seuss' famous How the Grinch Stole Christmas (1957). It's as deep and morally resonant and complex a holiday tale as you could imagine, yet it has an utterly clear and straightforward narrative thrust and clean symbolic underpinning. If you hold up Card's offering next to such a standard, it just falls flat.