Sparkfest presents: The Whizpopping Human Bean, Roald Dahl

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Who was the first author to weedle their way into the bright circle of a flashlight amid Pocahontas bedsheets?

Roald Dahl

It must have been the fart jokes.

Most children are odd critters. I was no exception. Reading about strange children, like Matilda, who realized she had the ability to punish her parents, tickled my funny-bone. Or children who found themselves launched from a grey world into a dreamland of color and danger, like Sophie and Charlie, was a breath of fresh air. There were never any portals or magic spells. Roald Dahl set up his adventures in your backyard, right in your peach tree.

When Roald Dahl did border on a cliché, like a story about witches, he'd switch things up faster than you could say "frizzled like a fritter!" The witches wouldn't ride on broomsticks. They'd wear wigs and have no toes, and accuse children of smelling like dog's droppings. (Unless you didn't take a bath. Then they couldn't smell you as good.)

Mr. Dahl was irreverent. An old lady would have a mouth like a dog's butt-hole. Oompa Loompas let their children frolic naked as they sang sadistic songs about fat, lazy, or spoiled kids. A giant would share his bubbly Frobscottle with you, resulting in glorious, blasting, "whizpoppers." Roald would include switching out his sister's boyfriend's tobacco for goat poop, and heating up the prefect's toilet seat with his own, skinny, surprisingly warm little bum--in his memoir. 

He knew what kids were delighted to be afraid of. Vermicious knids. Disgustingly hairy giants that eat children. Witches with blue spittle. Escaped rhinoceroses. Trunchbulls.

He knew what kids wanted. To be able to walk on hot coals. Candy that never loses its flavor. An adventure on the ocean. Elevators that can go into outer-space. Peaches. A best friend.

Most of all, Roald wrote what he knew. Whether it was getting a bad case of lice, or playing a prank on the candy lady who never washes her hands, he drew from his own life. He took events that children care about, like learning to ride your bike with no hands, and made them important. He had the ability to weave the mundane and the practical into something fantastic.

This affected me, because I realized Roald did not have to be born into fabulous or extreme circumstances in order to write from life. He chose to take something authentic and filter it through a kaleidoscope of whimsy. His life was interesting because he chose to be interested in it. I wanted to do that too. I wanted to see my life with those eyes.

I wanted to be a writer so my life would be fabulous. I would make it that way.

That, and he remembered what it was like to be a kid. I love feeling that, getting back to that mindset of constantly being excited and curious, maybe a little gullible.

And I'm not the only one that needs to be reminded
that appendicitis is caused by loose toothbrush bristles
that dreams can be caught in a giant butterfly net
and that somewhere, a little man saved an entire indigenous race from Wangdoodles.

http://www.roalddahl.com/












Also! Rachael Harrie is hosting her third blogosphere-famous Writer's Platform-building Campaign! I was too timid to join in on this the last time it was going on, and was really bummed out when everything commenced and I saw how cool it was. Sign-ups are open for the rest of August. Don't miss out on this fantastic opportunity to flex your blogging muscles, get involved, and make some friends!