Storyteller Roald Dahl’s respect for children keeps magical tales alive
From the human-size talking bugs of “James and the Giant Peach,” to the underground labyrinth occupied by the humanlike Fox family of “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” to everything about Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory: The wild, magical creations of Roald Dahl have served as springboards for Hollywood films for decades.
But beyond the fantastical worlds, there’s another quality that has helped these stories become parts of the children’s literature canon: his trust in children, both on the page and in real life.
“It’s so powerful, the trust and respect he gave his children” characters, says Eileen Kreit, president and publisher of Puffin Books, a children’s imprint of Penguin Books and the publisher of Dahl’s library. “They’re not one-dimensional. They all are capable and competent.”
Dahl would have turned 100 years old in September, and the anniversary has been celebrated anywhere a kid may stumble upon one of his books in a school library or where an adult might reminisce about childhood dreams of getting a golden ticket.
Oxford will be releasing a “Roald Dahl Dictionary” this
year, with definitions of words such as “trogglehumper” and “squacking,” and libraries and schools around the world have scheduled events and remembrances throughout 2016. And Friday a new adaptation of “The BFG” (for Big Friendly Giant), this time directed by Steven Spielberg and starring Oscar winner Mark Rylance, opens in movie theaters.
Hollywood keeps coming back to the British author, who died in 1990, in part because of those imaginative landscapes, creatures and universes. Some of the film industry’s most visually creative filmmakers have tackled Dahl’s words.
Wes Anderson was behind the 2009 adaptation of “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” turning the world of a hungry fox family into a stop-motion spectacle; and director Henry Selick (“Coraline,” “The Nightmare Before Christmas”) took “James and the Giant Peach” from page to screen. Even Tim Burton couldn’t resist, with his take on “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”
Each year, a new crop of children discovers, as Willy Wonka once sang, “a world of pure imagination.” Being able to make sense of these creations, of Oompa-Loompas and flying peaches and telekinetic kindergartners, may not seem easy. But as wild as Dahl’s stories may have gotten, they always remained grounded in a belief that kids have a greater capacity for understanding than adults may give them credit for.
“He doesn’t talk down to kids,” says Karey Kirkpatrick, who co-wrote the screenplay for the 1996 version of “James and the Giant Peach.” “In fact, he talks up to them — he trusted the intelligence and creativity of children.”
Dahl himself had a tough childhood. His father died when Dahl was only 3, and the young Roald spent much of his formative years at boarding school, feeling isolated. He later would serve in the Royal Air Force during World War II, before publishing his first children’s book, “The Gremlins” (no direct relation to the 1980s film).
He spent nearly 20 years writing short stories in between “The Gremlins” and his next book aimed at kids. The wait was worth it: “James and the Giant Peach” was released in 1961, and “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” came just three years later.
The difficulties of life weren’t done with Dahl yet, though: His daughter Olivia died of measles encephalitis in 1962, and his wife, the Oscar-winning actress Patricia Neal, had an aneurysm while pregnant with their fifth child. Neal would later recover, with Dahl’s almost boot-camplike help; his biographer, Donald Sturrock, would describe Dahl’s nursing style as “no self-pity, no indulgence toward the illness, just a determination to beat all the disabilities.”
That ethos of selfdetermination would translate to the page. His protagonists tended to fit a profile: smart children, often lonely and missing parent figures in their life, but fiercely intelligent and possessed with the spirit to find the positive in situations and other people.
“A factory filled with candy is a wonderfulsounding thing, but that’s not why kids keep coming back to it year after year,” Kreit says. “He brought out the champions of good in that story, in Charlie Bucket and Grandpa Joe. How he gave them the ability to do it for themselves.”
That power that Dahl gives his young protagonists has given generations of new readers relatable figures with which to connect. And it’s that connection that inspires everyone from children’s librarians to Hollywood producers to keep Dahl’s works alive.
“We gets tons and tons of mail for Roald Dahl every year,” Kreit says. “Thousands and thousands — without exaggeration — of letters from all around the country. It’s a tremendous testament to the power of his stories.”