Pass the frobscottle
In a previous life, before I became a parent, I dabbled a bit in a game called Quake. It’s one of those horrendously violent first person shooter computer games. For me, the most interesting aspect of Quake was the ability to play against real people via the Internet. Some of my co-workers were keen on this, as was my boss, and no end of fun was had living out the cathartic business of blasting each other away in a virtual world. It made for more interesting conversation around the proverbial water cooler.
One of the choice weapons to be had in the game of Quake is the BFG, an acronym for, you guessed it, big fucking gun. And that is was. The BFG was so big and powerful that if you were to use it in close combat you could easily pulverize yourself along with your opponent. Don’t mess around with the BFG.
These days, FPS games are not among my hobbies. Becoming the protector of two small children has wiped clean any penchant for violence, pretend or otherwise. I’m pretty much a pansy now. But B.F.G. remains an acronym for virtual violence in my mind. So it was with great surprise I learned quite recently that the author Roald Dahl was a Quake fan. Or at least so it seemed considering he’d written a book called The BFG. Yet, seeing as how Dahl died in 1990, many years before Quake came into being, it didn’t seem likely that his book had much, if anything, to do with bad ass weapons.
In fact, it’s a book about a Big Friendly Giant (BFG), and it’s for children!
The BFG is guzlly and glumptious, absolutely scrumpdiddlyuptious. I’ve never before had so much fun stumbling over words in a book. The BFG has a vocabulary to silence the most natterboxy chidlers. Snozzcumbers and frobscottle and whizzpoppers, oh my! Read this book aloud to your five-year-old and she will think you’ve lost your mind.
It’s really quite an endearing story, too. The young orphan Sophie, plucked from her dormitory window by The BFG one night, learns the terrifying story of how nine other giants, massive ruffians all, spend their nights gobbling up “human beans” for fun and nourishment. The BFG, resolutely vegetarian and reduced to subsisting on loathsome snozzcumbers, gathers dreams and distributes them to sleeping children. Sophie and The BFG concoct a plan, which includes the Queen of England, to trap the nine evil giants and save the world from their nightly prowl. They successfully carry out their plan, with heroic little Sophie bringing down the beastly and frothsome Fleshlumpeater with a blow to his Achilles tendon. It’s brilliant and funny and fun.
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