“I Shall Beat You Later, You Disgusting Little Worm”:
Challenges to the Childhood Self in Roald Dahl’s Narratives
by Sjoukje Jansen
- Master Thesis -
MA Literature and Culture: Specialization English
Sjoukje Maria Jansen 10347275
University of Amsterdam; Faculty of Humanities Supervisor: Rudolph Glitz
Table of Contents
Introduction
p. 3
1. Construction of the Self
p. 7
1.1. Positive Evaluations from Others p. 7
1.2. Parental Support p. 12
1.3. Social Comparison p. 21
2. Threats to the Self
p. 29
3. Reassuring the Self
p. 38
3.1. Relief through Mockery p. 38
3.2. Desire for Closure p. 44
Conclusion
p. 48
Introduction
In the Romantic Period, people started to glorify childhood, while adults were supposedly corrupted by society. This attitude was included in nineteenth-century literature and poetry, since Romantic writers like Rousseau were famous for expressing their passions and inner struggles. Petzold continues with linking the works of twentieth-century author Roald Dahl to the ideas of the Romantics:
The predominantly negative view of adults in Matilda [...] reflect an attitude toward the child which may seem typical of the “anti-authoritarian” 1970s and 1980s but which, in fact, can be traced back to Rousseau and the romantics. The notion that children are basically pure and innocent and need to be protected against selfish, exploitative, and powerobsessed adults who will abuse, neglect, and corrupt them is most obvious in Dickens but pervasive throughout in nineteenth-century literature. (190-91)
The “anti-authoritarian” attitude of the 1970s and 1980s is certainly present in Matilda (1988), since Matilda develops her own sense of judgement and not automatically accepts her parents’ authority. In his article “Roald Dahl – ‘It's About Children and It's for Children’ – But Is It Suitable?,” Jonathon Culley states that Dahl deliberately includes vulgarity in his children’s novels to point out adult hypocrisy, as adults may use vulgar words themselves, but suddenly find it inappropriate when they appear in children’s literature. As stated by Culley, Dahl acts “as a guide to the surrounding adult world, highlighting particular weaknesses and exposing its hypocrisies” (66). Adults may feel attacked by Dahl, yet not much has been written on the way in which children are attacked by adults in Dahl’s narratives. Perhaps because Dahl’s stories include so many fantasy elements, they have mostly been viewed as a form of
entertainment. We must not forget, however, that Dahl addresses many serious psychological issues in his stories such as physical or mental abuse, losing one’s parents, and feelings of
loneliness. Referring back to the Romantics, these inner struggles are present in Dahl’s narratives, but have never been fully examined as such. As pointed out by Culley, many critics have discussed Dahl’s vulgarity, fascism and racism (think of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’s Oompa-Loompas), yet not much has been written on the challenges to the childhood self in Dahl’s narratives. I believe it is useful to point out psychological concerns in Dahl’s narratives, because child readers may relate to Dahl’s self-conscious characters and learn from the way in which these characters deal with their problems. I shall therefore discuss in what way the self of the child protagonist is endangered in Roald Dahl’s children’s narratives, and more importantly, what methods are used to increase their self-esteems.
Susan Harter’s research on the causes of self-esteem will function as my main source. Her research was written in the beginning of the 21st century, yet it can easily be linked to stories of Dahl that were written in the 1960s, '70s and '80s. We could say that Dahl was ahead of his time for being aware of Harter’s psychological concerns, but we must not forget that the Romantics had already started with focusing on psychology: “during the early period of introspection, a remnant of the era of romanticism, legitimate inquiry into topics
concerning the self and psyche flourished” (Harter 3). In addition, Harter’s work builds upon William James’s theory (1890) of “the distinction between the I-self and the Me-self” (Harter 3). I shall not elaborate on James’s theory, yet we can say that the basics of Harter’s research were already present in Dahl’s time, and it is therefore not surprising that Dahl’s work connects so well to Harter’s theory.
In The Construction of the Self: Development and Sociocultural Foundations, Harter argues that one’s self-esteem is dependent upon how significant others treat the self:
Socialization experiences, initially within the crucible of interpersonal relationships with family, will dictate the content and valence of the self, resulting in a balance of
positive and negative self-evaluations. As will become evident, the evaluative-content self is largely defined by the valence of the reflected appraisals of how significant others treat the self. These appraisals become internalized as children come to appreciate the perspective of others toward the self. (2)
My first chapter is about the child protagonist’s construction of the self, and focuses on aspects which endanger its construction. Harter has pointed out the significance of
compliments for one’s self-esteem, and I argue that lack of compliments is what negatively affects the construction of the self in Dahl’s children’s narratives. As Harter explains, other aspects that influence the construction of the self are (lack of) parental support and social comparison. I shall back-up my argument with quotes from Dahl’s following novels: James and the Giant Peach (1961), Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (1964), Danny The
Champion of the World (1975), George’s Marvelous Medicine (1981), The BFG (1982), The Witches (1983) and Matilda (1988). I chose these novels because their protagonists
experience a psychological development, caused by both positive as well as negative experiences.
In the second chapter, I shall discuss how the self of the child protagonist is
threatened. Harter believes that children who are abused will blame the self, but this is where Dahl deviates from Harter’s theory. In Dahl’s stories, the children do not blame themselves, but their abusers are blamed and punished for what they have done. Roughly speaking, the threats to the childhood self in Dahl’s narratives can be categorized into two groups: children who are physically threatened and children who are emotionally threatened. The people who pose the threats to the protagonists’ self-esteem are often described very negatively. An alleged downside of Dahl’s stories is that his characters lack depth, as the good characters have no flaws and the bad ones have no redeeming features. Judging by a realist standard, as David Rees does, this feature is problematic. In “Dahl’s Chickens: Roald Dahl,” Rees states:
“The trouble with Dahl's world is that it is black and white – two-dimensional and unreal – and that he has a habit of elevating personal prejudices, ordinary likes and dislikes, into matters of morality” (144). Nevertheless, I shall demonstrate that the punishment of the bad characters often has a positive effect on the protagonists, as they are proud and happy that they have defeated the ‘bad guy.’
In Language and Ideology in Children’s Fiction, John Stephens links the punishment of the bad characters in children’s literature to children’s “desire for closure” (41). The last chapter will discuss the effect that Dahl’s endings have on the child protagonists, and it is particularly striking how Dahl’s stories never, with the exception of The Witches, have an open ending. In that sense, Dahl follows Stephens’s theory. Furthermore, this chapter will discuss the positive effects of Dahl’s use of humour, as it often diminishes the authority of adults and therefore decreases the threats they pose to the children’s self-esteem. Even though Dahl addresses many psychological concerns, his use of humour ensures that the books maintain an entertainment value.
1. The Construction of the Self
In Roald Dahl’s children’s narratives, the child protagonists often face more hardship than ordinary children ever will. They are bullied, kidnapped or physically abused, which
irrevocably influences their construction of the self. Most importantly, the construction of the self is endangered because the child protagonists lack certain qualities that facilitate children in forming a positive view of the self. Some of these qualities are positive evaluations from others and parental support (Harter). In addition, the self is constructed through social
comparison, and in Dahl’s narratives, the child protagonists often come to the conclusion that their lives deviate from the ‘norm’.
1.1 Positive Evaluations from Others
The first aspect which endangers the construction of the self is a lack of positive evaluations from others. As stated by Susan Harter, “the evaluative-content self is largely defined by the valence of the reflected appraisals of how significant others treat the self” (2). In Roald Dahl’s children’s narratives, many of the child protagonists start off with a low self-esteem because they do not receive enough encouraging feedback. Dahl constructs his stories in such a way, however, that their adventures eventually help them to positively overcome their previous situation and previous state-of-mind. During these adventures, the child protagonists often meet new people who give them the praise they need. Partly because of these new encounters, the self-esteem of Dahl’s protagonists often grows significantly during the story.
In James and the Giant Peach, for example, little James never receives any kind words or compliments from his two guardians. His aunts deprive him of his friends and his play time, and force him to do hard physical work like chopping wood (see page 8). In accordance with David Rees’s article, Dahl’s character portrayal of James’s aunts is very one
little nephew. Because James has not heard a word of kindness since the death of his parents, his encounter with a friendly person becomes very significant. The man does not only
acknowledge James’s misery, but also gives him hope for the future: “marvelous things will start happening to you, fabulous, unbelievable things – and you will never be miserable again in your life. Because you are miserable, aren’t you?” (12). In order to achieve a positive change, this man gives James the magic power to increase the size of the peach. In her article “Spell-Binding Dahl: Considering Roald Dahl’s Fantasy,” Eileen Donaldson states that injecting magic into the children’s world is Dahl’s way to liberate them from their dysfunctional family unit (131). As Donaldson states about James and the Giant Peach: “There is no way to remedy this situation but to introduce magic; even those who are firm believers in the good of social workers must admit that a little magic is infinitely preferable and would be far more effective in any situation of this kind” (136). After the magic is
introduced into the story, James’s adventure begins and he finally meets some characters who make him feel good about himself. When James crawls inside the peach, he quickly befriends the insect inhabitants of the peach, whose welcoming words would make any child feel special in an instant:
“You mustn’t be frightened,” the Ladybug said kindly. “We wouldn’t dream of hurting you. You are one of us now, didn’t you know that? You are one of the crew. We’re all in the same boat.”
“We’ve been waiting for you all day long,” the Old-Green-Grasshopper said. “We thought you were never going to turn up. I’m glad you made it.” (35)
These compliments form a sharp contrast with the way James’s aunts have been treating him. The insects do not only make him feel welcome, but also make him feel useful, as he receives a hero-like treatment: “'He saved me!' gasped the Centipede. 'He swam around in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean until he found me!' 'My dear boy,' the Old-Green-Grasshopper said,
patting James on the back. 'I do congratulate you'” (97). This example shows what a difference a few compliments can make to a child. By the end of the story, James’s self-esteem has grown significantly, as the praising words of the insects have made him realise that he is not, as his aunts used to call him, a “lazy good-for-nothing brute” (9).
In the beginning of the story Matilda, five-year-old Matilda receives no praise for her cleverness. Her parents, Mr and Mrs Wormwood, are described as so dumb that they cannot even notice Matilda’s brilliance. Even when Matilda manages to quickly calculate her father’s profits of the day, her father accuses her of being “a cheat and a liar” (55). When she meets her schoolteacher, Miss Honey, Matilda finally receives some positive acknowledgements, but Miss Honey is careful not to show too much enthusiasm, as she begins by phrasing her appraisals for Matilda only in her head: “There was no doubt in her mind that she had met a truly extraordinary mathematical brain, and words like child-genius and prodigy went flitting through her head” (75). When Miss Honey informs Headmistress Trunchbull and Matilda’s parents about this discovery, she expects them to be as excited as she is, but neither of them seem to be interested in hearing about Matilda’s exceptional intelligence. The scene in which Miss Honey visits the house of the Wormwood family to communicate the good news
particularly highlights Matilda’s parents’ incapability of expressing any form of enthusiasm for their daughter’s brilliance:
“But does it not intrigue you”, Miss Honey said, “that a little five-year-old child is reading long adult novels by Dickens and Hemingway? Doesn’t that make you jump up and down with excitement?”
“Not particularly,” the mother said. “I’m not in favour of blue-stocking girls. A girl should think about making herself look attractive so she can get a good husband later on. Looks is more important than books” (97).
Later in the novel, Miss Honey’s claim that she is “an unbelievably precocious child” (180) makes Matilda feel somewhat uncomfortable, as she is not used to receiving any
compliments. Matilda responds with the phrase “I suppose you’re right” (180), after which the narrator adds that “Miss Honey marvelled at the child’s lack of conceit and
self-consciousness” (180). Since Matilda is portrayed as an exemplary figure, the story indirectly encourages children to be modest as well.
In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Dahl even takes it a step further by punishing children who are too self-absorbed, arrogant or demanding. Protagonist Charlie, however, is none of these things. This is, of course, the main reason why Charlie wins Willy Wonka’s competition. In most of Dahl’s narratives, both the good and the bad characters get what they deserve. What gives Charlie confidence throughout the story is the unconditional support that he receives from Grandpa Joe. In fact, Grandpa Joe believes so much in his own grandson that he gives Charlie his last savings to buy another candy bar which hopefully contains the much desired Golden Ticket: “however small the chance might be of striking lucky, the chance was there. The chance had to be there. This particular candy bar had as much chance as any other of having a Golden Ticket” (28). This act of kindness, knowing that Charlie’s family is extremely poor, means a great deal to Charlie. When Charlie discovers that he has won the Golden Ticket, Grandpa Joe’s childlike enthusiasm once again emphasises his support: “in one fantastic leap, this old fellow of ninety-six and a half, who hadn’t been out of bed these last twenty years, jumped on to the floor and started doing a dance of victory in his pajamas” (49). Grandpa Joe’s praises and support make Charlie feel loved, and it becomes clear right away that Charlie’s problems are caused by the family’s poverty and not by any lack of attention.
In The Witches and in Danny the Champion of the World, the child protagonists also receive many positive remarks that establish their self-esteem. In The Witches, the boy reacts
remarkably calm when he is transformed into a mouse, partly because he knows that his grandmother will love him no matter what he looks like. The grandmother further increases his self-esteem by elevating his mouse-like appearance: “So I’m not really an ordinary mouse at all,” I said. [...] “Quite right,” she said. “You are a human in mouse’s clothing. You are very special” (132). Furthermore, both before and after his transformation, the boy is
constantly called “my darling,” which continuation makes it easier for him to get used to his new shape. All in all, the fact that he does not suffer from an identity crisis is mostly due to his grandmother’s support. In Danny the Champion of the World, Danny’s father is a mechanic, and when Danny helps his father to fix a car, he immediately receives positive feedback: “You know something interesting, Danny? You must be easily the best five-year-old mechanic in the world” (15). Danny adds that he was “enormously pleased” (15) to hear his father talk in such a way. Furthermore, Danny’s self-esteem increases when he rescues his father from a deep pit, as it diminishes the distance between father and son that was created by the way in which Danny constantly eulogised his father through phrases as “My father, without the slightest doubt, was the most marvelous and exciting father any boy ever had” (8). Moreover, Danny is the one who thinks of a plan to take revenge on the evil landowner Victor Hazell. Throughout the story, we get several hints that nine-year-old Danny is smarter than his own father: “My father is not what you would call an educated man. I doubt he had read twenty books in his life” (9). In contrast to the story Matilda, however, the difference in intelligence between Danny and his father has no negative influence on Danny’s self-esteem because Danny is never being accused of being too smart.
In The BFG and in George’s Marvelous Medicine, the character development is more subordinated to the plot than in Roald Dahl’s other children’s narratives. The self-esteem of the child protagonists is not established through positive evaluations from others, but through experiences. In The BFG, for example, Sophie helps the Queen to capture the man-eating
giants, which is a great achievement for a small girl like herself. As the narrator adds, “She found it almost impossible to believe that she, Sophie, a little orphan of no real importance in the world, was at this moment actually sitting high above the ground on the window-sill of the Queen of England’s bedroom” (147). Furthermore, George’s self-esteem grows when he realises how special and unique his self-created medicine is: “Marvelous medicine, George told himself. He found it fascinating to stand there watching what it was doing to the old hag. What next? He wondered” (36).
1.2 Parental Support
Another aspect that endangers the child protagonists’ construction of the self is lack of parental support (Harter). Harter states that “the development path to high self-esteem will be facilitated by parental support” (36-37). In many of Dahl’s children’s narratives, however, the child protagonist is an orphan. The substitute parent is often either very good (like the
grandmother in The Witches) or very bad (like the aunts in James and the Giant Peach). Again, Dahl offers us a version of reality that is not nuanced, and I agree with Jonathon Culley that Dahl’s description of bad characters is one dimensional:
Dahl's treatment of these characters nearly always follows the same pattern. First, the characters are introduced along with vivid physical descriptions. They proceed to have a successful reign of terror when their behavior reaps rewards. Finally, they come to a sticky end. These characters are not given redeeming features; they are thoroughly dislikeable. (60)
Judging by a realist standard, as David Rees also does, Dahl’s character descriptions become problematic. David Rees particularly criticizes Dahl for his description of adults:
Much of Dahl's appeal to children lies in the way he uses adults. When they have a big role, he manipulates them to fit into a child's world, so that they appear either as
supermen (Mr. Wonka, Danny's father) or wholly childlike (Grandpa Joe, the BFG); and if they won't fit, they are excluded, made villainous (the witches, Mr. Hazell, [...] George's grandmother). Real life is demonstrably not like this; adults enter a child's world in a thousand different moral shapes and sizes. (154)
Rees makes a valid point, yet Dahl’s black-and-white characterizations also have an
advantage. By turning the characters into caricatures, child readers can more easily separate the good characters from the bad ones. In the case of parental support, Dahl has chosen to divide his protagonists into two groups: they either have extremely loving (substitute) parents or no parental support at all. In the latter case, there is room for improvement, and in the journey towards improvement, the protagonist’s self-esteem grows the most.
In The BFG, Sophie’s parents died when she was a baby, because of which she grows up in an orphanage. It becomes clear that the woman who runs the orphanage, Mrs Clonkers, is not a loving person and can therefore not be considered as a substitute parent.
Consequently, Sophie’s self-esteem has been negatively influenced by the fact that she lacked any form of parental support in her early childhood. When the BFG ‘kidnappes’ Sophie from her orphanage, Sophie immediately assumes that “no one is going to be worrying too much about me” (38). As the story continues, the BFG becomes an unexpected substitute for Sophie’s parents. He protects her from the human-eating giants and Sophie even states in the end that she loves him “as she would a father” (207). Because the BFG has a childlike character, he cannot fully fulfil the role of a substitute parent. In the end, the BFG becomes Sopie’s pupil, as she teaches him how to speak, spell and write properly. Nevertheless, Sophie seems to be perfectly happy with this new situation and her self-esteem has grown
significantly because she has finally found a friend who needs her as much as she needs him. In James and the Giant Peach, the death of James’s parents is described in the most peculiar way: “one day, James’s mother and father went to London to do some shopping, and
there a terrible thing happened. Both of them suddenly got eaten up (in daylight, mind you, and on a crowded street) by an enormous angry rhinoceros which had escaped from the London Zoo” (1). This blunt statement is more funny than tragic. For the character James, however, it is the worst scenario possible because it means that he has to live with his two dreadful aunts, Sponge and Spiker. Even though his aunts function as his substitute parents, they offer no parental support: “They never called him by his real name, but always referred to him as 'you disgusting little beast' or 'you filthy nuisance' or 'you miserable creature,' and they certainly never gave him any toys to play with or any picture books to look at” (2). The death of James’s aunts is described in the same blunt way as that of his parents: “The peach rolled on. And behind it, Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker lay ironed out upon the grass as flat and thin and lifeless as a couple of paper dolls cut out of a picture book” (49). Moreover, their death is being glorified as an extremely positive turn of events: “And when it went BUMP! And the Centipede had shouted, 'That was Aunt Sponge!' and then BUMP! again, and 'That was Aunt Spiker!' there had been a tremendous burst of cheering all around” (53). This example shows that parental support is helpful, but not necessary for establishing one’s self-esteem, and the story seems to suggest that it is better to have no parents than to have evil ones. Due to the support of his new insect friends, James gains enough confidence to no longer need adult support. The way in which he defends his insect friends in front of the New York policemen also shows bravery and an enormous growth in character. At the end of the story, James transforms the giant peach into a house where he continues to live on his own. This strong and individual James forms a strong contrast with the insecure James from the beginning of the story.
In The Witches, the death of the boy’s parents is described very briefly, as if it is just a minor detail: “our car skidded off the road and went tumbling down into a rocky ravine. My parents were killed. I was firmly strapped into the back seat and received only a cut on the
forehead” (13). Luckily, his grandmother, the boy’s substitute parent, gives him enough love and support to prevent him from developing a major trauma. In addition, the grandmother’s intriguing stories about witches function as a good distraction from his real-life misery. Readers are sceptical about the existence of witches, and Dahl has cleverly included this scepticism in the boy’s mind as well: “Although I was very young, I was not prepared to believe everything my grandmother told me. And yet she spoke with such conviction, with such utter seriousness, and with never a smile on her face or a twinkle in her eye, that I found myself beginning to wonder” (21). Statements like these make it easier for a child reader to identify with the child protagonist, and if the boy can believe her story, than perhaps child readers can as well. By offering parental support, the grandmother becomes a role model for the little boy, something which perhaps normally a father would be to his son: “I gazed up at my grandmother who sat there like some ancient queen on her throne. Her eyes were misty-grey and they seemed to be looking at some things miles away. The cigar was the only real thing about her at that moment, and the smoke it made billowed round her head in blue clouds” (20). The throne and the aura-like smoke clouds may elevate the old woman, but also emphasise the boy’s smallness. Nevertheless, the boy and his grandmother are equals, as they need each other for their plan to defeat all the witches in the world. This plan gives the boy’s life meaning again, and his wild enthusiasm convinces the reader that he has no problems with staying a mouse all his life.
In George’s Marvelous Medicine, George’s grandmother is nothing like the friendly grandmother in The Witches. George’s construction of the self is endangered by lack of parental support, since George’s parents are absent during a large part of the story. Most of the scenes evolve around the bad relationship between George and his grandmother, and from the beginning onwards, the old woman is portrayed as extremely unkind with an almost demon-like appearance: “George couldn’t help disliking Grandma. She was a selfish grumpy
old woman. She had pale brown teeth and a small puckered-up mouth like a dog’s bottom” (2). Instead of increasing his self-esteem, the grandmother continues to verbally attack her grandson and even criticises him for being too tall: “I gave up growing when I was extremely small, along with other nasty childish habits like laziness and disobedience and greed and sloppiness and untidiness and stupidity” (4). In an attempt to cure her unkindness, George decides to create a magic medicine. The ingredients that he adds to the medicine, however, are so toxic that you are inclined to think that he wants to murder her: “I shall make her a new medicine, one that is so strong and so fierce and so fantastic it will either cure her completely or blow off the top of her head” (12). Instead of murdering her, however, the medicine makes her extremely tall, something which Grandma seems to like very much, even though she used to blame George for growing too fast. When George’s parents come home, they praise him for making such a wonderful potion. Consequently, Grandma is immediately upset that her grandson receives all the attention: “She wanted to be the center of attention, and nobody was taking the slightest notice of her” (58). George’s father, Mr. Kranky, is introduced as “not an easy person to live with because even the smallest things got him all worked up and excited” (49). Of course, this excitement is exactly what George’s father expresses when he realises that George’s growth potion could generate major profits: “We will build a Marvelous Medicine Factory and sell the stuff in bottles at ten dollars apiece. We will become rich, and you will become famous!” (63). This parental support is nice for George, but the fact that his father wants to financially profit from his son’s invention also suggests that he is more
interested in money than in building up his son’s self-esteem. When George eventually fails in reproducing the same medicine because he can no longer remember all the ingredients, his father’s enthusiasm disappears again. This enthusiasm briefly reappears when Mr. Kronky discovers that George’s medicine has killed his mother-in-law: “'That’s what happens to you if you’re grumpy and bad-tempered,' said Mr. Kranky. 'Great medicine of yours, George' (88).
As is obvious in George’s Marvelous Medicine, but also in James and the Giant Peach, Dahl uses dark humour to discuss difficult subjects such as death and abuse. The use of this device will later be dealt with in chapter 3.1 “Relief through Mockery”.
The story of Matilda ironically begins with the phrase: “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 that he or she is wonderful” (7). Of course, Matilda’s parents are the exact opposite of that, as “Mr and Mrs Wormwood looked forward enormously to the time when they could pick their little daughter off and flick her away, preferably into the next country or even further than that” (10). As previously stated, she never received any praise for her cleverness, but on top of that, parental support is completely absent in everything that she does. Matilda goes to the library in secret, as her parents forbade her to go. Mr and Mrs Wormwood do not even notice her absence, as they are too self-absorbed in their own lives. As Dahl sarcastically adds, “I doubt they would have noticed had she crawled into the house with a broken leg” (10). Instead of reading books, Matilda’s father stimulates her to watch television. This scene is an allusion to a scene in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, in which the Oompa-Loompas recommend the exact opposite: “Go throw your TV set away,/ And in its place you can install/ A lovely bookshelf on the wall” (141). Similar to James’s aunts in James and the Giant Peach, Matilda’s parents are stereotyped as all bad. Not even Mr Wormwood’s profession is honest, as he owns an illegal car business which fixes up stolen cars and sells them to people as if they’re brand new. In contrast, Matilda’s character is stereotyped as pure and good, and she has a remarkably well-developed sense of morality for a five-year-old. While normally the parents should be exemplary figures to their children, Dahl’s choice to subvert these roles emphasises Matilda’s lack of parental support. Matilda is so aware of her parents’ flawed character that she does not even expect to receive any support, which is why she decides not to tell them the secret of her magic powers. She only conveys this secret to
Miss Honey, who later becomes her guardian and already functions as a substitute parent throughout the story. Eileen Donaldson further elaborates on the reason why Dahl gives Matilda her magic powers: “Matilda […] has two fronts on which she is under attack, school and home. Dahl must allow her some form of self-defense. Dahl gives Matilda a potent form of magic” (139). If the fantasy element is indeed included as a self-defense mechanism (in Matilda’s case against her dysfunctional family unit), then the magic functions as an escape from reality. David Rees’s and Jonathon Culley’s criticism on Dahl is only valid when we judge Dahl’s narratives by a realist standard, yet Dahl’s stories include many fantasy elements that could never be judged by such a standard. The reason why critics still expect (and
demand) realism from Dahl’s narratives is probably because Dahl’s stories are, first and foremost, stories about families and friendships. Dahl’s stories are thus based on realism, and the fantasy elements can be viewed as secondary elements, or as Donaldson argues, as a form of self-defense against realism. Furthermore, Dieter Petzhold states that Matilda, as many of Dahl’s books, is a “fairy tale in disguise” (186). Petzhold continues, however, by stating that “seen from another angle, the story is by no means a mere fantasy. Matilda's parents and Miss Trunchbull may not be exactly lifelike, but they are only a little larger, and uglier, than life. In other words, they are caricatures, figures made ridiculous through exaggeration” (186). All in all, Dahl ridicules adults through the descriptions of their appearance, seemingly with the intention to reduce the unequal power relationship between children and adults.
In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, little Charlie has six parental figures, as he lives in a house with his parents and his four grandparents. Although their house is small and his parents cannot afford any luxurious items, the support which Charlie receives from his family is enough to make him feel good about himself. Furthermore, the story includes the clear moral message that it is better to be poor and content than rich and spoiled. The character of Veruca Salt belongs to the latter category, for which she obviously needs to be punished. In
addition, Dahl blames Veruca’s parents for spoiling her too much. According to Dahl, parental support has its limits:
Be wondering – is it really right That every single bit of blame And all the scolding and the shame Should fall upon Veruca Salt? Is she the only one at fault?
For though she’s spoiled, and dreadfully so, A girl can’t spoil herself, you know.
Who spoiled her, then? Ah, who indeed? Who pandered to her every need? Who turned her into such a brat? Who are the culprits? Who did that? Alas! You needn’t look so far
To find out who these sinners are. They are (and this is very sad) Her loving parents, MUM and DAD. And that is why we’re glad they fell Into the garbage chute as well. (117-18)
At the end of the story, Charlie’s good character allows him to win the competition. We soon find out, however, that Willy Wonka had alternative motives for hosting the competition. The factory is Wonka’s legacy, and because he has no children of his own, he lacks a person to give it to when he dies. Moreover, by giving Charlie his factory, Willy Wonka becomes an additional father figure:
“Listen,” Mr. Wonka said, “I’m an old man. I’m much older that you think. I can’t go on forever. I’ve got no children of my own, no family at all. So who is going to run the factory when I get too old to do it myself?” “I don’t want a grown-up person at all. A grownup won’t listen to me; he won’t learn. He will try to do things his own way and not mine. So I have to have a child. I want a good sensible loving child, one to whom I can tell all my most precious candy-making secrets – while I’m still alive.” (151) Little Charlie thus eventually ends up with seven parental figures, and is one of the few characters in Dahl’s children’s narratives whose self-esteem is not damaged by lack of parental support.
In Danny the Champion of the World, Danny is raised by his father, because his mother died when he was four months old. The scene in which Danny’s father starts talking about his wife tells us that Danny still has difficulty with her death, as Danny mentions: “I didn’t say anything. I never knew quite what to say when he talked about my mother” (121). Nevertheless, Dahl conveys the message that a child who has only one parent can still be perfectly happy, as protagonist Danny repeatedly states that “[i]t is impossible to tell you how much I loved my father” (11). Even though the cause of his mother’s death is never
mentioned, her absence has certainly strengthened the father-son relationship: “there was just us two, my father and me” (1). The support of his father has helped Danny accept his
mother’s death, and throughout the story, Danny is praised by his father for his good behaviour. This ‘us-against-the-world’ mentality strengthens Danny’s self-esteem, just as it does in The Witches, since the boy and his grandmother only need each other to be happy. In addition to their father-son relationship, Danny and his father are close friends. Danny’s father makes his son feel particularly special by allowing him to participate in his hobby, which is poaching pheasants. Furthermore, their relationship is strengthened because they share a common enemy: the wealthy landowner Victor Hazell. Together, Danny and his father decide
to humiliate Mr. Hazell by poaching the pheasants which he needs for his annual pheasant-shooting party. Their plan eventually succeeds and Danny is hailed as “the champion of the world” (153), because he came up with their plan. Even though this adventure has definitely increased Danny’s self-esteem, the focus of the story is on the bonding process between father and son. As the story concludes, “What I have been trying so hard to tell you all along is simply that my father, without the slightest doubt, was the most marvelous and exciting father any boy had ever had” (205). This story shows that parental support is beneficial for
establishing a high self-esteem, since Danny would never have dared to go against Mr. Hazell without his father’s support.
1.3 Social Comparison
As stated by Susan Harter, “[a] more balanced view of the self, in which positive as well as negative attributes of the self are acknowledged, is also fostered by social comparison” (62). Through social comparison, the child protagonists in Dahl’s narratives often find out how much their lives deviate from other children’s. They are either poorer (like Charlie), smarter (like Matilda) or lonelier (like James and Sophie) than their peers. Furthermore, Susan Harter states that “[i]n mid- to late childhood, children come to appreciate that success in domains of personal importance promotes high self-esteem, whereas failure in critical domains not only undermines their sense of competence but takes its toll on their global self-esteem” (63). Harter defines the term global self-esteem as “one’s overall worth as a person” (63). The term also entails the ability to realise that positive factors can discount negative factors. In Dahl’s narratives, this ability to discount negative factors with positive ones is essential, and the following examples will demonstrate how social comparison eventually helps the protagonists to increase their self-esteem.
In Matilda, five-year-old Matilda is significantly smarter than her classmates. Miss Honey immediately notices her intelligence, and makes the mistake of giving all her attention to Matilda: “She knew that she ought to be paying some attention to the rest of the class but she was altogether too excited to let the matter rest” (76). As a result, Matilda’s peers start feeling insecure: “'It’s not fair,' Lavender said. 'How can she do it and we can’t?'” (75). As Susan Harter also mentions, “[s]ocial comparison is also underscored by the socializing environment. For example, evidence reveals that as children move up the academic ladder, teachers make increasing use of social comparison information” (63). Miss Honey clearly makes an educational error by focusing so much on Matilda, even though she never meant to make the other children feel bad about themselves. Because Miss Honey has to remain the good counterpart to Matilda’s evil parents, Dahl makes sure to attenuate her mistake by stating that “[a]lready the whole class had begun to warm towards Miss Honey, although as yet she had hardly taken any notice of any of them except Matilda” (80). Because Matilda never receives any attention at home, the school environment has a positive effect on her global self-esteem. At home, Matilda’s parents conspire against her by accusing her of everything that goes wrong. Luckily, Matilda’s intelligence gives her the strength to fight back: “Being very small and very young, the only power Matilda had over anyone in her family was brainpower” (49). Furthermore, her intelligence allows her to place her own situation into perspective. When Matilda’s father destroys her library book, the narrator adds that “[m]ost children in Matilda’s place would have burst into floods of tears. She didn’t do this” (41). For a five-year-old, this mature response is very remarkable, and suggests that Matilda’s construction of the self is way ahead of her peers. She knows things that small children should not even be aware of, as the narrator states “[s]he seemed to know that neither crying nor sulking ever got anyone anywhere” (41).
In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Charlie lives in very small house with his parents and four grandparents: “The house wasn’t nearly large enough for so many people, and life was extremely uncomfortable for them all” (4). In addition, there is not even enough money to buy proper food for them all, because of which Charlie is constantly hungry. The thing he longs for more than anything is chocolate, and ironically, Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory is located in sight of the house were Charlie lives. To make matters worse, Charlie’s school environment reminds him of his poverty, because other children do have enough money to buy his favourite chocolate bars: “Many times a day, he would see other children taking creamy candy bars out of their pockets and munching them greedily, and that, of course, was pure torture” (6). By introducing Charlie’s living situation like this, Dahl deliberately evokes sympathy from the reader. In addition, Dahl includes a moral lesson by encouraging children to be grateful for what they have: “we are all a great deal luckier than we realize, we usually get what we want – or near enough. But Charlie Bucket never got what he wanted because the family couldn’t afford it, and as the cold weather went on and on, he became ravenously and desperately hungry” (38). In Matilda, Miss Honey is the counterpart to Matilda’s parents, while in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the thin, poor and modest Charlie is the complete opposite of all the other child contestants: Augustus Gloop is
enormously fat, Veruca Salt is rich and spoilt, Violet Beauregarde is extremely arrogant, and Mike Teavee watches television all day. By sketching such clear opposites, Dahl does not meet David Rees’s realism standard, as the bad characters make all the wrong choices while Charlie is able to resist all temptations in Willy Wonka’s factory. Dahl already introduces the characters of Augustus, Veruca, Violet and Mike in such a negative way that readers expect them to end up badly (see pages 21-25 and 31-34). Moreover, the fact that the Oompa-Loompas have already prepared a song for each of these bad children indicates that their actions are very predictable. All in all, we might conclude that social comparison damages
Charlie’s self-esteem in the beginning, because he realises that his family is much poorer than those of his peers. Later, however, Charlie benefits from social comparison because his good character stands out from the other contestants. Moreover, receiving Willy Wonka’s reward does not only give Charlie confidence, but also teaches readers that good behaviour is
beneficial. In short, Willy Wonka’s factory has turned Charlie’s life into an adventure, and the boy’s enthusiasm suggests that Charlie’s life has changed for the better: “Something crazy is going to happen now, Charlie thought. But he wasn’t frightened. He wasn’t even nervous. He was just terrifically excited” (144).
In James and the Giant Peach, James lacks the possibility of seeing any peers, as the house of his aunt is located on the top of a hill, far away from other houses. James is never allowed to leave their garden, and other children are never invited up the hill to play with him. This unhappy lifestyle is strongly contrasted with James’s previous situation, before the death of his parents. As the novels, almost ironically, begins: “Until he was four years old, James Henry Trotter had had a happy life. He lived peacefully with his mother and father in a beautiful house beside the sea. There were always plenty of other children for him to play with […]” (1). During the novel, James constantly compares this previous situation to his current situation, which obviously leads to the conclusion that his situation has declined. For James, comparing himself to his peers thus has a negative effect:
And as he worked, James began thinking about all the other children in the world and what they might be doing at this moment. Some would be riding tricycles in their gardens. Some would be walking in cool woods and picking bunches of wild flowers. And all the little friends whom he used to know would be down by the seaside, playing in the wet sand and splashing around in the water... (8).
When James meets his insect friends, he enters a social environment that he is not familiar with: a place where people are nice to each other. As he exclaims, “'It seems that almost
everyone around here is loved!' said James. 'How nice this is!'” (91). When the peach arrives in New York City, people initially react scared because they have no idea what they are dealing with. When James explains to them that the insects are not dangerous at all, their fear immediately gives way to enthusiasm. James and the insects are saluted as heroes, and James is especially pleased with seeing other children again: “Soon, there was a trail of children a mile long chasing after the peach as it proceeded slowly up Fifth Avenue. Really, it was a fantastic sight” (141). The story concludes with the implied moral message that having the company of others is even more special and magical than the massive giant peach and all their crazy adventurous: “to James, who had never dreamed that there could be so many children as this in the world, it was the most marvelous thing that had ever happened” (143). In short, the story suggests that James’s self-esteem is highly dependent on his social environment, since he is unhappy when he lives in isolation with his aunts, and happy when he lives in the company of playfellows.
In The Witches, the boy who is transformed into a mouse retains his personality and his voice, which make it easier for him to adjust to his new shape. Furthermore, the boy’s view of the self as a mouse is remarkably positive, even better than his human form:
I decided I rather liked it. You are probably wondering why I wasn’t depressed at all. I found myself thinking, What’s so wonderful about being a little boy anyway? Why is that necessarily any better than being a mouse? I know that mice get hunted and they sometimes get poisoned or caught in traps. But little boys sometimes get killed, too. Little boys can be run over by motor-cars or they can die of some awful illness. Little boys have to go to school. Mice don’t. Mice don’t have to pass exams. Mice don’t have to worry about money. Mice, as far as I can see, have only two enemies, humans and cats. My grandmother is a human, but I know for certain that she will always love me whoever I am. And she never, thanks goodness, keeps a cat. When mice grow up, they
don’t ever have to go to war and fight against other mice. Mice, I felt pretty certain, all liked each other. People don’t. Yes, I told myself, I don’t think it is at all a bad thing to be a mouse. (118-19)
This inner moment of self-reflection is a remarkable moment in Dahl’s children’s narratives. The boy manages to convince himself, and perhaps also the reader, that he is actually better off as a mouse. In so doing, his construction of the self is positively influenced by comparing his mouse form to his human form. The human environment is portrayed as a depressing environment, in which people have to pass exams and worry about money. In addition, the notion that moral strength beats physical strength is very much present in The Witches and encourages children to feel good about themselves: “The fact that a tiny little creature like me had caused such a commotion among a bunch of grown-up men gave me a happy feeling” (174). On a larger scale, the story includes the moral lesson that “[i]t doesn’t matter who you are or what you look like so long as somebody loves you” (197). The Witches thus confirms the importance of a friendly environment for the establishment of a child’s self-esteem.
In Danny the Champion of the World, the love between Danny and his father is also an essential part of Danny’s construction of the self. Danny and his father live very remote, because of which the father is the most prominent person to whom Danny can compare himself. When his father suggests organising a birthday party for Danny and his school friends, Danny replies:
I always said no to these suggestions and I never invited any other children to come to my home after school or at weekends. That wasn’t because I didn’t have good friends. I had lots of them. Some of them were super friends, especially Sidney Morgan. Perhaps if I had lived in the same street as some of them, instead of way out in the country, things would have been different. But then again, perhaps they wouldn’t. You
see, the real reason I didn’t want anyone else to come back and play with me was because I liked being alone with my father better. (111)
Furthermore, Danny wants to do all the things that his father does as well. Since his father is a mechanic, he wants to be one too: “It was inevitable that I, too, should fall in love with
engines and automobiles. [...] My toys were the greasy cogs and springs and pistons that lay around all over the place, and these, I can promise you, were far more fun to play with than most of the plastic rubbish children are given nowadays” (15). The comment about the “plastic rubbish” is obviously coming from the narrator, as Danny has probably never even seen other toys than his father’s work tools. All in all, Danny’s father functions as a role model in Danny’s life, and part of Danny’s self is constructed through Danny’s attempts to be like his father.
In The BFG and George’s Marvelous Medicine, social comparison is less of an issue, as Sophie and George encounter no peers to compare themselves with during the narrative. Nevertheless, lack of social comparison can also negatively affect a child’s self-esteem. In George’s case, the lack of company makes him feel lonely and isolated:
George was bored to tears. He didn’t have a brother or a sister. His father was a farmer, and the farm they lived on was miles away from anywhere, so there were never any children to play with. He was tired of staring at pigs and hens and cows and sheep. He was especially tired of having to live in the same house as that grizzly old grunion of a grandma. Looking after her all by himself was hardly the most exciting way to spend a Saturday morning. (1)
George’s idea to create a medicine for Grandma results from his boredom, and the novel seems to suggest that rebellious behaviour is the result of a child’s social environment. Of all Dahl’s children’s narratives, however, George’s Marvelous Medicine is the one that focuses the least on character development. The plot is driven by actions, and the story is written in
such a humoristic way that it is difficult to determine how George’s construction of the self develops. The same goes for Sophie’s character development in The BFG. Sophie’s
construction of the self is not based on social comparison, but rather formed by her adventure with the BFG.
2. Threats to the Self
Roald Dahl’s children’s narratives are concerned with the reality of domination and
oppression, and it is striking how Dahl allies himself with the child reader against the world of adults. In real-life, physical or mental abuse often influences the child’s construction of the self, and particularly damages the child’s self-esteem. As stated by Susan Harter, “[f]rom a cognitive-development perspective, the young child who is abused will readily blame the self” (58). Harter further explains:
Given maltreatment at the hands of a parent or family member, the child first surmises that either “I am bad or my parents are bad.” However, the assumption of young children that parents or authority figures are always right leads to the conclusion that parental maltreatment must be due to the fact that they, as children, are bad, that the act was their fault. Therefore they believe that they deserve to be punished. (58) Remarkably, the child protagonists in Roald Dahl’s children’s narratives do not believe that they deserve to be punished, but blame their abusers instead. As a result, Dahl’s plot
structures indirectly undermine the authority of adults. While the self-esteem of the child protagonists is often affected by the abuse, the fact that the abusers are always punished helps them to cope with their bad experiences. As Jonathon Culley points out:
The overthrow of such arbitrary authority is a common basis for Dahl's plots. It most often takes the form of the underdogs standing up for themselves and correcting a dictatorial situation which would otherwise be perpetuated. Matilda opposes Miss Trunchbull, George opposes his grandmother, [...] Danny and his father oppose Mr. Hazell, Sophie and the BFG oppose the giants. (67)
In James and the Giant Peach, James’s aunts are immediately introduced as abusers: “Their names were Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker, and I am sorry to say that they were both
really horrible people. They were selfish and lazy and cruel, and right from the beginning they started beating poor James for almost no reason at all” (2). Furthermore, Dahl adds that James’s room was “a bare prison cell” (2) and should he attempt to flee, “terrible punishments were promised him, such as being locked up in the cellar with rats for a week” (4). By
introducing the aunts so negatively, Dahl obviously intends to ally the reader with the child protagonist. This strategy works, until Dahl goes over-the-top with his evil depiction of the aunts. When the aunts start making many inhumane comments, one starts to wonder whether they still represent real-life people. For example, aunt Sponge exclaims: “Why don’t we just lower the boy down the well in a bucket and leave him there for the night?” (16). In addition, the aunts do not really care about feeding James: “'Could I please have something to eat first?' he asked. 'I haven’t had a thing all day.' 'No!' they shouted, kicking him out of the door. 'We’re too busy to make food! We are counting our money!'” (27). All in all, comments like these increase the comedy effect of the novel more than its dramatic effect, and Quentin Blake’s illustrations of the two aunts make it hard to take them seriously in the beginning. However, when Dahl starts talking about being scared in the dark, the novel returns to a topic that child readers can relate to:
Most people – and especially small children – are often quite scared of being out of doors alone in the moonlight. Everything is so deadly quiet, and the shadows are so long and black, and they keep turning into strange shapes that seem to move as you look at them, and the slightest little snap of a twig makes you jump. James felt exactly like that now. (27)
Beholding the giant peach becomes a way for James to escape his fears, and temporarily makes him forget his sorrows. Most importantly, the giant peach gives him hope: “It looked like a tremendous silver ball lying there in the grass, silent, mysterious, and wonderful. [...] Something else, he told himself, something stranger than ever this time, is about to happen to
me again soon. He was sure of it. He could feel it coming” (28). This sense of hope, combined with the kindness of his new insect friends, gives James the self-confidence he needs to escape from his aunts.
While James is being threatened with physical abuse, Matilda becomes the victim of emotional abuse. At home, her parents have no respect for Matilda’s opinion because their narrow-mindedness makes them believe that a little girl cannot possibly outsmart her own parents. Matilda’s sense of morality is also better developed than her parents’, as Matilda negatively comments on her fathers’ car business: “But daddy, that’s even more dishonest than the sawdust. It’s disgusting. You’re cheating on people who trust you” (25). Her father simply replies: “If you don’t like it then don’t eat the food in this house. [...] It’s bought with the profits” (25). Dahl’s character description of Matilda’s parents is, again, very one
dimensional, as there is never a moment in which they reveal a kinder side of their
personality. In his article “Wish-fulfilment and Subversion: Roald Dahl’s Dickensian Fantasy Matilda,” Dieter Petzhold creates a link between Matilda and the child protagonists in novels by nineteenth-century writer Charles Dickens:
The most important link between Matilda and several Dickens novels [...] is thematic. It is true that Dickens did not tell stories about child prodigies, but some of his
particularly popular novels – Oliver Twist, David Copperfield, and Great Expectations – are about sensitive, highly gifted children who are neglected, suppressed, and finally rehabilitated, just like Dahl's Matilda. (187)
This so-called “neglected-child theme” (Petzhold 189), which repeatedly occurs in Dahl’s children’s narratives, is thus not something which Dahl has invented, but something which had been around for at least a century. Another aspect that Dickens and Dahl have in common is the fact that they usually do not describe bad parents. Instead, “substitute parents are
It is true that Dahl often introduces substitute parents, but they are not always as bad as Petzhold seems to suggest. Only the aunts in James and the Giant Peach and the grandmother in George’s Marvelous Medicine are oppressive, while the real parents cause the threat in Matilda. In the other children’s narratives, the threat comes from outside the domestic sphere.
In The Witches, for example, the treat is caused by the witches, the Grand High Witch in particular. On the novel’s opening page, Dahl starts with the statement: “A REAL WITCH
hates children with a red-hot sizzling hatred that is more sizzling and red-hot than any hatred you could possible imagine” (7). The most threatening moment for the novel’s protagonist is the moment in which he gets caught in the room where the witches hold their annual meeting. Normally, witches are disguised as real people, but during this meeting they reveal their true appearance. Especially the moment in which the Grand High Witch takes off her mask and wig is frightening:
That face of hers was the most frightful and frightening thing I have ever seen. Just looking at it gave me the shakes all over. It was so crumpled and wizened, so shrunken and shrivelled, it looked as though it had been pickled in vinegar. It was a fearsome and ghastly sight. There was something terribly wrong with it, something foul and putrid and decayed. It seemed quite literally to be rotting away at the edges, and in the middle of the face, around the mouth and cheeks, I could see the skin all cankered and worm-eaten, as though maggots were working away in there. (66)
Dahl is not afraid of gruesome descriptions, as he also described Miss Trunchbull as “a gigantic holy terror, a fierce tyrannical monster who frightened the life out of the pupils and teachers alike” (Matilda 67). These explicit descriptions, combined with Quentin Blake’s illustrations, create a threatening image, one that could also affect child readers. As Jonathon Culley points out, “[b]y using vivid descriptions of villains and melding their physical
Culley fears, for example, that children will always associate ugliness with malice after reading one of Dahl’s novels, yet he later adds that “[m]ost children, through experience, realize that a variety of personalities can be found within a variety of external appearances” (62). David Rees criticises Dahl for his gruesome descriptions, and particularly for the effect they might have on child readers: “The Witches is sexist and gratuitously frightening. If you wanted to give children nightmares and thoroughly confuse them about adult behaviour – the behaviour of women in particular – then The Witches could well do a first-class job” (147). I disagree with Rees’s criticism, because I would argue that the fact that one small mouse can defeat so many threatening witches, makes both the child protagonists as well as child readers realise that they should not fear people on the basis of their appearance. In the end, the
protagonist’s self-esteem has significantly grown, and the threat of the witches no longer seems to scare him. While the gruesome descriptions may be frightening to child readers, the witches’ defeat shows them that their fear is unnecessary.
In George’s Marvelous Medicine, George’s grandma is especially threatening because George’s parents have no clue of her evil nature. As Dahl describes, “[i]t was only when she had him on her own that she began treating him badly” (3). The downside of her two-faced personality is that it is no use to ask anybody for help, because George is the only one who experiences her frightening side. Therefore, George decides to act on his own:“He may have been only eight years old, but he was a brave little boy. He was ready to take this old woman on” (10). This plot twist inspires children to face difficult situations instead of evading them. Nevertheless, the story becomes frightening when Grandma starts threatening him directly: “George made a dive for the door. 'It doesn’t matter how far you run,' he heard her saying, 'you won’t ever get away'” (9). One might wonder whether it is wise for a small child to fight against such a psychopath, but George’s determination is admirable. Moreover, the story is driven by George’s decision to get even with Grandma. When George’s Grandma dies, you
might say that George has won. This victory indirectly undermines the authority of adults, as it proves that the action of a small child can have huge consequences.
In The BFG, the fact that Sophie is kidnapped initially causes a threatening situation. Especially when she is insulting the BFG by suggesting that he is going to eat her: “Just because I is a giant, you think I is a man-gobbling cannybull! he shouted. 'You is about right! Giants is all cannybully and murderful! And they does gobble up human beans!'” (25). It takes a few pages before the giant explains that he is a vegetarian, which increases the oppressive suspense. When he finally introduces himself, however, Sophie can relax again: “I is a freaky Giant! I is a nice and jumbly Giant! I is the only nice and jumbly Gaint in Giant Country! I is
THE BIG FRIENDLY GIANT! I is the BFG” (30). From this moment on, not the BFG, but the
other man-eating giants become the ones who cause dreadful situations. The fact that the BFG makes so many grammatical errors in his speech further reduces the scariness of his
appearance because it makes him appear less smart. The other giants are probably even dumber, but their ugliness and size are enough to scare Sophie anyway: “it was the sheer size of each one of them that boggled Sophie’s brain most of all. They were simply colossal, far taller and wider than the Big Friendly Giant upon whose hand she was no sitting. And oh how ugly they were!” (34). In the end, Sophie’s intelligence is what defeats the giants, as she manages to persuade the Queen’s army to help her capture all the giants. By making Sophie the heroine of the story, Dahl indirectly encourages readers to take action against threats to the self. Similar to the mouse in The Witches, the fact that even a little person can make a difference functions as a source of inspiration.
In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Charlie is not as much threatened as the protagonists in Dahl’s other children’s narratives. After he wins the Golden Ticket, the most exciting part is, of course, entering Willy Wonka’s factory. Because the factory is sealed off from the outside world, everything inside is unknown and therefore potentially dangerous. It
turns out that Willy Wonka is the threatening factor, as he is the one who brings the other children in danger. For example, he lets the spoiled Veruca Salt fall down the garbage chute, which ironically suggests that Veruca is rubbish and should be treated as such. Moreover, Willy Wonka does not seem to care much about her well-being:
“I expect someone will catch them at the bottom of the chute,” said Mr. Wonka. “But what about the great fiery incinerator?” asked Charlie.
“They only light it every other day,” said Mr. Wonka. ‘Perhaps this is one of the days when they let it go out. You never know...they might be lucky....” (116)
Of course, this dialogue includes sarcasm, but Willy Wonka’s character is so unpredictable that you never know when he is speaking the truth. This uncertainty is the most threatening aspect of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. While the self-esteem of the other child
contestants has probably been permanently damaged by Willy Wonka’s mockeries, Charlie’s ego is saved by the story’s conclusion. During the story, Willy Wonka’s character may have scared Charlie a little, but Charlie’s enthusiasm appears to overshadow his fear of the unknown.
In Danny the Champion of the World, the treat is caused by Victor Hazell, the arrogant landowner who dominates all people in the area. When Danny asks his father where they are going to poach the pheasants, his father responds: “'It’ll always be Hazell’s Wood.' [...] 'First, because that’s where all the pheasants are. And second, because I don’t like Mr. Hazell one little bit, and it’s a pleasure to poach his birds'” (42). His father has well-founded reasons for disliking Mr. Hazell. One time, Mr. Hazell came to visit their filling station and started threatening Danny for no reason: “'If you make any dirty fingermarks on my paintwork,' he said, 'I’ll step right out of this car and give you a good hiding'” (43). Danny’s father
responded: “Next time you threaten someone with a good hiding I suggest you pick a person your own size. [...] 'Now go away, please,' my father said. 'We do not wish to serve you'”
(44). The fact that Danny’s father sticks up for his son increases the little boy’s self-esteem because it makes him realise that he is not at fault. Instead, Danny learns to hate Mr. Hazell as much as his father and eventually helps his father to take revenge at him. However, Mr. Hazell takes revenge first by sending inspectors and officers to their gas station in an attempt to run Danny and his father off his land. This attempt fails, and the narrator sarcastically adds: “you can see why it gave my father a certain pleasure to poach Mr. Victor Hazell’s peasants” (46). In a way, the narrator hereby justifies the illegal scheme of Danny and his father. As a counterpart to the evil Mr. Hazell, Doc Spencer is introduced into the story: “Many people loved him, and he was especially gentle with children” (76). Doc Spencer takes care of Danny’s father after he fell into a pit that Mr. Hazell dug to catch intruders. As the story progresses, the characters are obviously divided into two camps: Danny, his father and Doc Spencer against Mr. Hazell. To increase the threatening situation, however, Dahl has decided to make Danny’s teacher, Captain Lancaster, evil as well. The fact that he fought in the Second World War and therefore still calls himself ‘Captain’ increases his threatening character: “Captain Lancaster was a violent man, and we were all terrified of him” (108). Moreover, the fact that Captain Lancaster physically abuses the children in his classroom justifies their fear of him: “It was almost impossible to believe that this man was about to injure me physically and in cold blood. [...] The long white cane went up high in the air and came down on my hand with a crack like a rifle going off. [...] Never had I felt a pain such as that in my whole life” (114). Danny tries to reveal his pain, yet he fails in doing so: “I
managed not to cry out aloud but I couldn’t keep the tears from pouring down my cheeks” (114). According to Susan Harter, “the young child who is abused will readily blame the self” (58), but Danny does not. Instead, Danny turns to the one person whom he trusts the most, his father, who reacts as follows: I swear I’ll kill him!’ His eyes were blazing, and all the color had gone from his face. I had never seen him look like that before” (117). This reaction
indirectly increases Danny’s self-esteem, as it reassures him that there is always someone who will fight back for him.
We can now state that the children in Roald Dahl’s narratives are faced with a variety of threatening situations. I would argue it is best to categorize them into two groups: children who are physically threatened and children who are emotionally threatened. James, Sophie, Danny and the boy in The Witches (who is never given a name) belong to the first category. James’s aunts threaten to lock him up in the cellar should he attempt to flee. Sophie fears for her life, and is almost certain that the BFG or any of the other giants will eat her up. Danny is physically abused by his schoolteacher and the witches turn the boy into a mouse with the intention to kill him later. James also belongs to the emotionally abused group, as his aunts constantly make him feel useless. Matilda suffers mostly from emotional neglect and George suffers from the fact that his grandma treats him badly. Charlie mostly suffers from Willy Wonka’s unpredictable character, but I would argue that Charlie’s self-esteem is less affected by threats than the self-esteem of Dahl’s other protagonists. All in all, I agree with Culley that Dahl’s plots often take the form of “underdogs standing up for themselves and correcting a dictatorial situation” (67). Because the children become the heroes of the story, we can assume that they gain confidence through the fact that they have defeated the ‘bad guy’.
