And now for what you've all been waiting for. I am going to indirectly weigh in on this Roald Dahl drama with a loose analogy and allow you to draw as many or as few parallels as you want. This topic has been exhaustively covered by now and I don't have any strong attachment to his books, so I will just say a few things about it up front. I think the revisions that were made range from slightly less descriptive insults ("enormously fat" becomes "enormous"), to patronizing cliches of the day (regarding a woman in the story, "cashier in a supermarket" becomes "top scientist"). Yes, we all know that women are and can continue becoming top scientists. And I love the implication that either you aren't capable of teaching your own kids that women can be both cashiers and scientists, or that being a cashier is such a lowly position to hold that you have to wipe it from the page. Funny either way.
I also read that for those upset by these revisions, not to worry, because the original versions will still be in print. And not that I really care how many mangled editions of books exist out in the world, but what is the logical conclusion of this? Every old book-which is to say basically all of them-with content that is offensive by today's standards will be revised and reprinted with sensitized language? Seems a waste, when all of those that would change other people's material could be writing their own and making an actual contribution. But whatever. At least in the case of children's books, I don't know that the vetting of material will ever be completely handed over to random people with their own dubious intentions. In other words, as much as possible, I think that parents will always vet their kids’ reading material instead of assuming that the sensitivity readers have it all under control. But I realize as I write this that I am giving the argument too much credit. The official reason that Puffin gave was simply "to remove words that could be deemed offensive by some readers." So there you go.
The analogy here is to an objectively more extreme children's book series that is near and dear to me. I say more extreme because of the macabre illustrations and stories about death contained within (as opposed to words such as "fat" or "cashier"), although there are probably some objectionable words in there as well. I am of course talking about Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, a 3 book series released over a ten year period between 1981 and 1991. If you know, you know. If not, you should look them up. The artwork, and the stories to a much lesser extent, are still disturbing by any standard.
And that is exactly what makes them great. I remember first seeing them in my 4th grade classroom and being shocked and instantly obsessed. How could these exist and how was I allowed to read them? I rediscovered them in the middle school library a year or two later and read the entire series. They definitely planted the seed of an ongoing affection for the horror genre that I have to this day.
That first impression that I mentioned-the feeling that I should not be reading these books and was therefore getting away with something-was an important one. Certainly it was not the case, considering that I found them in the school library, but they were so disturbing compared to every other book that it felt that way. They became something that I would show to other kids at school just to gauge their reaction and see whether or not they could hang. But the important point is that I knew how subversive they were before knowing what that word even meant, because I had reality and other books that I'd read to compare them to. At no point did anything detailed in them seem normal or acceptable, and that was the whole appeal. They weren't just another boring children's series. They felt dangerous.
The series was also one of the first things that I found to have that rare effect of feeling like it was made just for me. Not because I was a death-obsessed misanthrope, but because I was someone who liked to be shocked, or surprised, or otherwise have my mind expanded by new things. Again, I had no self-awareness of this in the moment, but I've come to better understand it about myself since. They supplied that first dose of confidence and independence, which is important at a time when everything in your life is given to you and dictated by the adults. And I have to imagine that some portion of this story rings true with people's relationship to Roald Dahl's books. Right?
The cleanest part of this loose analogy is that the Scary Stories books were reprinted in 2011 with totally sanitized, uninteresting artwork. Apparently there had been a long-running controversy about how appropriate the books were for kids, and the publisher finally caved. However, the backlash to the new illustrations was eventually enough to convince them to reprint once again with the original artwork in 2017. A true victory for all the freaks out there like myself. The funny thing is that I actually understand this controversy. For instance, if I was on a board voting whether or not to have the series in elementary school libraries, I would probably vote nay. They seem deserving of an age requirement.
But there is no real moral to be offered here. Just an urge to share the experience of finding my own, darker version of what Roald Dahl seems to be to so many others, and to tell it through the eyes of this former child. And to say that maybe we could give more credit to children's ability to not turn out to be complete monsters based on what they read. And finally, to say good luck on cleansing the past and present of all that might offend. Until next time.
In my case, it was those "Strange But True" collections, with UFOs and spontaneous combustion and the Mary Celeste. Those cost me some sleep...helped build my skeptical side, though. And got me into trouble at my (Christian) school when I shared them around and some fundy parent found out I'd been telling "ghost stories." (The Satanic Panic had mostly faded, but fear of "the occult" never dies out in the superstitious.)
What I hate about the Dahl hackjob is that it wasn't for any reason; just some pre-emptive blandening of their IP, so when they roll out the next round of adaptations, there's less chance of "controversy." Who cares about complexity and shades of grey; we have CONTENT to sell.
I have no idea how I found this substack but this is great -- SStTitD was a great intro to horror fiction, and was better-written per word than many so-called masters of the genre. How is it that the simple reveal that someone has a rat for a pet can be so horrifying, even if it has rabies? Or spiders hatching out of a boil on your face? Something about the combination of writing and art gave the horror an existential feeling, as if we were seeing child-sized versions of what made Lovecraft's narrators run mad.
However, as to the larger point I believe that we wrong everyone in the debate by taking it at face value. All such erasures and disembowelings appear motivated by something simpler and older -- the same impulse that makes conquerors in every age tear down the statues of the conquered gods and heroes. Nobody serious believes that black folk are so fragile that a statue of Robert E Lee will strike them blind, or that children (who learn active shooter drills) can't handle language about flea medicine making your dog explode. No, it is a simple desire to desecrate the vanquished -- an ugly old racist like Dahl and the defeated racists who love him should see his statues torn down, his books burned, his bones exhumed and scattered. When people respond with anger, we should not think them so attached to a few enormously fat characters or unpleasant turns of phrase, but rather see in them the rage of the beaten, those whose temples have been torn down and whose gods now are without home or name.