I had heard of the zany film, “Charlie And The Chocolate Factor”. It came out in 1971, before I was born. I caught it on satellite dish recently, in my 40s. Afterwards, I could laugh at Howard Wolowitz’s “Oompa-Loompa” joke on “The Big Bang Theory”! I discovered at Goodreads several years ago, that this is a novel by Roald Dahl. I learned that he is Welsh, whimsical, beloved, and in Heaven since 1990.
When one of our favourite charities reopened in September 2022, for the first time following the pandemic, I scooped up eleven of his paperbacks. I already had Charlie’s sequel and easily found the original, raising Roald’s collection to twelve books. I usually start at the beginning. The end of 2022 necessitated squeezing in a brief toddler’s book under the wire for my quota, ensuring I was free to enjoy a truly happy New Year’s Eve with my man.
My first Roald experience thus entails a 1977, 48 page picture storybook, with spare, exclamatory sentences repeating key phrases. Nevertheless, I am impressed and give it solid four star feedback. I admire the creativity, which extends to illustrator Quentin Blake. My honest reaction to a seemingly juvenile story is that these men are brilliant. My good friend, Kerri, helped me put a finger on one reason, remarking that the book’s tones comprise a successfully, artfully, delicious balance of scariness and funniness!
In the biggest brownest muddiest river in Africa (the author skipped commas there), “The Enormous Crocodile” tells every animal he sees that he planned to eat children for lunch. His bragging was fortunate, for they all could warn children about every crazy camouflage disguise!
The skill in this simple jaunt makes me positively eager to see how colourful Roald’s novels are. I cannot imagine his storytelling for grown-ups.