Where would we be without Roald Dahl’s books? Separate the man if you can and consider his work. This past week I read aloud to my partner Susan The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and other stories. It’s a fantastic collection of fiction and non-fiction. Some of it horrifying (I’m looking at you, bullies and the swan story!), but all of it perfectly RoaldDahlian. That perfect mix of weird and wonderful, macabre and marvelous.
Modern Moms and Dads sometimes say his stories are too dark. Too gross. Too profane, and are too mature for young readers. Bull. Shit. Dahl was brilliant (and yes grouchy), but I’d never tell a parent how to parent (now that I am one, I get it) however I will judge you silently. Everyone from Tim Burton to Stephen King and those who follow them, like Stranger Things’ Duffer Brothers, stand on Roald Dahl’s shoulders today.
What would I be without his strange sense of wonder, his fascination with life and death, and his sense of justice? And acceptance? Like that of a grandmother and her grandson who has been turned into a mouse and will never be a boy again. Reading Dahl as an adult teaches me far more lessons than when I read him as a child. I think that’s the point.
We read The Witches in the last month or so waiting for the birth of our son last year. Reading aloud to one another each night and taking a few moments to talk to the baby yet to make his debut. Each chapter is a prayer to be able to love, to be brave, and stand up to wrong no matter the odds. It was perfect.
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