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Growing up, Roald Dahl’s the BFG was a BFD. I seriously loved that book.
Scratch that. I love—present tense—that book.
The BFG (which stands for the Big Friendly Giant, for all of you not in the Roald Dahl know) was my favorite book for years. Over and over I read about how Sophie befriended the BFG and together with the Queen of England’s help rounded up all the mean, children’s bone-gnashing giants.
I laughed at (and gobblefunked with) the BFG’s hilarious words (snozzcumber!!!) and wondered what dreams he’d trumpet into my room each night.
So today, on Roald Dahl’s 100th birthday, I say thank you to my all-time favorite children’s book author.
The BFG: My literary comfort blanket
I’m 32—a little older than the book’s target audience—but I still read itv, usually every year or so. I wander down to my bookshelves on a day when I’m stressed or upset and invariably find myself pulling out Roald Dahl’s classic.
I cozy up with my copy, which by now is bent and dog-eared and barely holding together.
Within the first few paragraphs, I relax. This book is my comfort blanket. I go to it the way some people make chicken noodle soup or call their mom.
Turning to books in times of stress
During grad school, when I was also teaching university classes and GRE-prep courses, I definitely had no time to read for pleasure. But reading a few chapters of The BFG stopped my racing mind, allowing me to unwind.
When I was pregnant, I could barely keep my eyes open past 8pm. But I cracked open The BFG to feel safe and secure amidst the uncertainty of bringing a new life into the world.
When I had a newborn, I was getting close to no sleep, like most moms. But in between nursing sessions, I sometimes opened up The BFG. I wouldn’t have to finish a chapter, or even remember what I’d read. By now, I know the entire story by heart. It’s not the plot that I seek out when I’m overwhelmed; it’s the familiarity.
No matter what else is going on in my life, I can always turn to The BFG. Sophie and that lovable, big-eared giant—along with Roald Dahl—are always there for me.
So today, on Roald Dahl’s 100th birthday, I’m returning—again—to this splendiferous, delunctious, glumptious book.