The industry is simply updating classics to appeal to millennial parents. The main problem seems to be the quality of the prose
Handing down beloved books to your children is one of the best things about being a parent. And so like countless others raised on Willy Wonka’s golden ticket and the BFG’s jars of dreams, of course I was thrilled to relive the Roald Dahl books with my son all over again.
On bored, rainy afternoons we copied George’s Marvellous Medicine by mixing potions from the contents of the kitchen cupboards. We made the pilgrimage to the Dahl museum in Great Missenden, Buckinghamshire, with its magical recreation of his writer’s hut and its collection of homesick letters the author wrote back from boarding school as a boy, which shed a sad kind of light on the cruel adults who stalk his fiction.
