Roald Dahl was my favorite author growing up. I didn’t know what a prick he was at the time. Dahl described the world as a wretched place where dreams go to die, largely because of great big jerks (like himself), and as an innocent but observant child, I had already picked up on that. Innocent kids, in Dahl’s books, were forced to combat sadistic, ignorant adults. Sometimes we lost the battle, but usually we won (after chapters and chapters of torture). The biggest danger wasn’t losing. It was growing up into the same big jerks. Or, as Dahl called them in one of his nastiest books, “The Twits.
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