Dahl's still champion

NOW this is what fatherhood should be all about. I have endured thousands of miles of car journeys listening to the Tweenies' Party Time tape. I have been subjected to enough repeat viewings of Pingu to contravene the UN torture convention. Then, finally, my reward. Roald Dahl.

To be fair, things had been looking up on the children's story front before Dahl arrived. Courtesy of a breakfast cereal's book promotion (who said kids' meals are bad for them?) our son Jack was introduced to Anne Fine, the children's laureate.

Fine is a wonderful writer. She can tell any number of tales as different as they are fantastic, in an inimitable style laced with humour. Since our free book with breakfast, we have eagerly sought out her paperbacks. Any parent keen to enjoy the bedtime story as much as their children do should try Anne Fine.

Whereas Fine was a revelation, Dahl is an old friend. As a kid, I devoured the Willy Wonka chocolate factory books with the same lusty relish as Violet Beauregarde demolishes a Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight.

And I can still remember how Danny The Champion Of The World, with its themes of loneliness and loss, tenderness and triumph, acted as a gateway into the grown-up world of the novel.

So when the books editor handed over The Roald Dahl Treasury (Puffin, £12.99), I was filled with a happy nostalgia.

The book proved to be so much more than a journey down memory lane, however. There are many gems in here which I don't remember from my own childhood.

And even those stories I vividly recalled became fresh when read with Jack, who is three months away from his fifth birthday.

As with any children's book, the first things that strike you are the illustrations. Dahl without Quentin Blake would be like Tom without Jerry, Bill without Ben.

He and Dahl are on the same page, figuratively as well as literally. Blake's wide-eyed, monstrous adults, cheerily wicked crocodiles and amazingly serene children almost evolve spontaneously from the text.

The 444 full colour pages are split into four sections: Animals; Magic; Family, Friends and Foes; and Matters of Importance. Extracts from all the legendary works are here, such as The BFG, James And The Giant Peach and Matilda.

It is tempting to say that this collection is some sort of modern Aesop's Fables. But that would not sit right. Although I enjoyed those ancient tales, Dahl was never one to preach or moralise.

His stories are like a favourite uncle whispering secrets to children that their parents would never divulge. Yes, life can be nasty, and death is nastier, and some grown-ups are as savage as snakes. But magical things can happen to the lost and the lonely... if they deserve it.

Although Dahl's work is peopled (and animaled) by the grotesque and the grotty, he writes in The Twits how "a person who has good thoughts can never be ugly".

Some of our favourite moments in the treasury came from Dahl's poetry. His new takes on the classic tales made us laugh out loud at more than one bedtime. Try this, from Little Red Riding Hood And The Wolf:

"Ah well, no matter what you say,

"I'm going to eat you anyway."

The small girl smiles. One eyelid flickers.

She whips a pistol from her knickers.

She aims it at the creature's head

And bang bang bang, she shoots him dead.

How's that for girl power?

Scattered around the fiction are extracts from Dahl's observations and autobiographical writings, offering his succinct insight into everything from moles to the writing process.

At a penny short of 13 quid The Roald Dahl Treasury is about the same price as a video of kids' cartoons. The difference is, this will be a pleasure to see again and again.

Among the other new Puffin releases we read over a spot of supper on the sofa was A Bit More Bert (£5.99). This unites two more giants of children's fiction, Allan Ahlberg and Raymond Briggs. We loved the big, bold Briggs pictures which perfectly suited a mad place where everyone is called Bert, including Bert the policeman and his six goldfish, Bert, Bert, Bert, Bert, Bert and, er... Bert.

A much longer Ahlberg treat is The Improbable Cat (£4.99). This tells the strange story of how an injured kitten wins the hearts, then plays with the minds, of a normal family, as seen through the eyes of 12-year-old David.

Immediately after the kitten is taken in, it loses its limp. Then, on a salmon and pilchard diet, it starts piling on the pounds and quickly becomes the size of a labrador. The beloved family terrier, Billy, is ousted, and David's parents begin to act strangely.

This is a quietly spooky tale, beautifully written, that captivated Jack. Like many of the best children's tales, the narrator David is the sane centre of an increasingly weird world. We watch with him as his ordinary family is subverted by an extraordinary pet, and, as a consequence, will never look at our own two cats in quite the same way again.

Updated: 09:11 Wednesday, September 10, 2003