Yes, we all know this is the jolliest time of year, the joyous month of good cheer, love of fellow man, and the boundless pleasures of giving presents to those we love, or those we like a lot – or even those we feel some sort of social or professional obligation to give some damned thing or other.

Bells ringing, carols being sung, parties to attend, dinners to plan, friends, and relatives with whom to share the holiday season combine to remind us of how fortunate and happy we are.

How strange, then, that so many mystery writers were born in December. These are children who woke up one Christmas morning and decided to write stories in which people were murdered, kidnapped, robbed, terrorized, or treated in some other undesirable manner. They decided to spread the cheeriness of crime throughout their careers.

Rex Stout, the creator of Nero Wolfe and the equally important Archie Goodwin, was born on December 1, 1886. Stout ranks among my half-dozen favorite American mystery writers, and it is my firmly stated resolve to read all the Wolfe stories again, in order, when I retire.

These novels are remarkable for the fluidity of the prose and the warm comfort of being welcomed home to a familiar house (his brownstone on West 35th Street) and the equivalent of his family: Archie, his amanuensis and “legs” (since Wolfe seldom ventures from his home, Archie does all the legwork involved in interviewing and tailing suspects); Fritz, his cook; Saul Panzer, Orrie Cather, and Fred Durkin, the private eyes he hires to assist Archie; Lon Cohen of the Gazette, who he consults for information, and so on. It is as warm and comforting to spend an evening with Wolfe as it is to go to 221B Baker Street with Sherlock Holmes and those familiar surroundings and intimates.

While Stout was not the stylist that Raymond Chandler or Ross Macdonald were, and his plots were often thinner than Kate Moss before lunch, he achieved a balance of hard-boiled and soft-boiled unmatched by any other in the history of the genre.

Wolfe, the classic traditional mastermind detective, sat at his desk and waited for Archie to bring him information, which he would digest and from which he would deduce the inevitable solution. Archie, meanwhile, would get beat up, shot at, carouse with Lily Rowan or some other cute young woman who couldn’t resist his good looks and charm, and do all the heavy lifting that we associate with private eyes. The perfect combo, as comfortable together as 10-year-old bedroom slippers.

Speaking of Ross Macdonald (well, I wasn’t, but I did mention him, so it seems a fair enough segue), he was born in December, too, on the 13th, in 1915. Macdonald’s real name was Kenneth Millar, but his wife, Margaret Millar (named a Grand Master by the Mystery Writers of America, as was her husband and Stout, too, for that matter), was there first. After four books under his own name, he switched to a pseudonym.

He picked John Ross Macdonald, under which he wrote his first Lew Archer novel, “The Moving Target.” When he learned that there was already a successful and prolific mystery writer named John D. MacDonald, he switched again, finally settling on Ross Macdonald. “The Moving Target” was filmed with Paul Newman as “Harper,” the title changed at the insistence of the actor, who was superstitious about his recent successes in “Hombre” and “Hud” and wanted another one-word title starting with the letter “h.”

A great admirer of Raymond Chandler, Macdonald did his best to emulate the master’s style, and succeeded better than anyone else who has ever tried it. Although he eventually found his own voice, beginning with “The Galton Case,” the Chandler influence is unmistakable, helping to move him onto Mount Olympus as one of the heroic figures of the mystery novel.

What is it about Christmas Eve? No fewer than three important writers were born on this date, and what do you suppose the odds are on that? About the same as that amazing land whale, Senator Kennedy, passing up a drink for a Diet Dr. Pepper.

James Hadley Chase (December 24, 1906) was a hard-boiled British thriller writer whose books were mainly set in the United States, even though he only visited these shores briefly in New Orleans and Florida. Stylistically, he might be compared with a runaway bus – lots of speed and activity, but not as much control and direction as one might like. His greatest success was a novel titled “No Orchids for Miss Blandish,” the plot of which was stolen (er, excuse me, borrowed) from William Faulkner’s “Sanctuary.” A lawsuit for plagiarism by Faulkner was decided in favor of the American.

Also born on Christmas Eve were the aptly named queen of suspense, Mary Higgins Clark (1929), and Nicholas Meyer (1945), author of the huge best seller “The Seven-Per-Cent Solution” and now a talented and successful screenwriter and director, notably of “Star Trek: The Movie.” Other December babies include the great hard-boiled writers William P. McGivern (1922), author of “The Big Heat” and “Rogue Cop”; three-time Edgar-winner Joe Gores (1931), creator of the DKA novels; and James Lee Burke (1936), bestselling author of the David Robichaux series.

Whatever else may happen in this most wonderful of months, these authors and their works have been a gift to us all – with the lamentable exception of Chase, who was a bit more like a lump of coal in the stocking hung by the chimney with care. There are those who feel it may have improved the general body of crime fiction if Chase himself had been hung by the chimney, with or without care.

Mr. Penzler is the proprietor of the Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan and the series editor of the annual “Best American Mystery Stories.” He can be reached at openzler@nysun.com.