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Wednesday, July 20

A Dahl-esque Review of Dahl

From The New Yorker
...They liked the fact that Dahl, unsatisfied with desks, had designed a baize-covered writing board, to balance on his lap just so. And they loved that he kept, on a side table, a jar containing gristly bits of his own spine, which had been removed during an operation on his lower back. Next to the jar was a waxy-looking knob that turned out to be Dahl’s hip bone, along with a titanium replacement.

“It makes a good letter opener,” one little boy said of the prosthetic hip.

“Has it got blood on it?” another asked hopefully.

Oh yeah and the kids were also excited to see Dahl's books when they visited his writing cottage. I always held a fascination with Roald Dahl and enjoyed his stories as much as my son did... the article explains why most grown ups don't exactly enjoy Dahl. And perhaps this tidbit from Matilda is why:

It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think he or she is wonderful.

Some parents go further. They become so blinded by adoration they manage to convince themselves their child has qualities of genius.

Marvelous writing!

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