I thought I’d read this book all the way through years ago, but there were stories here that I didn’t remember at all, and so now I’m not sure what I’ll read before or not. When my children were growing up we made our way through every one of his children’s books. These aren’t children’s stories, but it is hard to not notice that they are almost all very much like fairy tales.
One of the things a writer who is starting out is almost certain to do is to not fully trust their readers. This is almost inevitable, and something of a function of the medium. We want to be understood. There’s no point telling a story if your audience doesn’t understand the point of it, or rather, misses the point because you haven’t been directly explicit. And so, because a writer can never have feedback from their audience, they feel they have to use what Bernstein referred to as an explicit linguistic code. That is, you find yourself making sure you are right in the middle of the spotlight when you tell your little joke, and that you slap the cymbal immediately after the punchline. Tah-Dah! ‘You see, it was the brother – he was the one in the kitchen, not the uncle, she only thought it was the uncle, but really it was the brother…get it? Get it?’
Dahl never does this. Some people might even get a little annoyed with him because, well, the story he tells you is never quite the story he is telling. But he never speaks down to you. He trusts you as a reader. So, while he is telling you of the nice, if a little eccentric, woman how has made the young man a nice cup of tea that tastes just a little too much like bitter almonds, after explaining to him that she has quite a talent for taxidermy – you really aren’t meant to think, ‘oh, the things people get up to these days, you can never tell, can you? Still, better than her spending all her time watching television.’
As I said, these are fairy tales. I was wondering while reading these what it is we like so much about the little twist at the end of such stories. There are quite a few writers who specialise in them – Fredrick Forsyth has a lovely collection of them called No Comebacks, and many of Maugham’s short stories also almost invariably end with the same little sting in the tail. Writers need to be very careful with these, because readers expect the twists and unless they are ingenious, they can fall very flat. The joy of these is, as I’ve already said, the sting is rarely made explicit – it is often something you need to have figured out for yourself.
Some of these are little horror stories – Georgy Porgy is a particularly good example of that, a story to make a Freudian salivate, with its mothers eating their children and all females as sexual aggressors, even the rats. The characters are all caricatures, but never so over-drawn to make them grate. If these are morality tales, then like the punchline of the twists athe the end of the stories themselves, the moral is never made directly explicit either.
There are any number of casual cruelties described – often delivered by the person who knows you best and so who also knows how to punish you in the most horribly perfect way too. Not unlike, perhaps, the ideal little punishment awaiting us all in hell so carefully planned by our infinitely loving god. A god who also how knows us all too well and who therefore also knows the ideal place to stick the blade.
These are lovely little stories. That said, it is important to remember that there is no advice that, if pushed a little too far, doesn’t become bad advice, but that said, I do think that if you can trust your readers as much as Dahl clearly does, it is harder for you to go wrong.