No one captures the vague grotesqueness of daily life like Roald Dahl. Whether it's the more true-to-life (like an old, drunk umbrella thief or a cold, domineering husband), or a bit more exaggerated (like a beekeeper father who tends to his newborn daughter as if she were one of his bees, or a new-fangled machine that writes novels the way a calculator solves mathematical equations), our old buddy Roald is just as we remember him from our younger days. Even his strangest stories play out with a sort of drawing room politeness that makes it all seem so real. And he's so good at that! Take Matilda for example: In the context of that world, does it even seem a little bit strange or fantastical that she can move things with her mind? Matilda herself does not have much to do with these particular stories, but it's the same sort of thing. Roald Dahl creates such a mundane sort of magic, that it's only in retrospect that the reader truly grasps the wide scope of the fantasy.
This delightful little short story collection is a bit like eating at a tapas restaurant. There's a little bit of everything, from the achingly beautiful to the dark and scary to the whimsical, and all of it is quite tasty. Some dishes are, of course, better than others, but all are at least worth a taste - and only a couple of them are complete duds. And then, like tapas, you leave the table a little bit hungry and, as delicious as it all was, not entirely satisfied.
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