From the back cover:
Willy Wonka’s famous chocolate factory is opening at last! But only five lucky children will be allowed inside. And the winners are: Augustus Gloop, an enormously fat boy whose hobby is eating; Veruca Salt, a spoiled-rotten brat whose parents are wrapped around her little finger; Violet Beauregarde, a dim-witted gum-chewer with the fastest jaws around; Mike Teavee, a toy pistol-toting gangster-in-training who is obsessed with television; and Charlie Bucket, Our Hero, a boy who is honest and kind, brave and true, and good and ready for the wildest time of his life!

Review:
I’m not sure why we spent what seemed to be the entire last week of fourth grade sprawled on the carpet of the media center wearing out one of those new-fangled videotapes of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory by watching it over and over again, but sprawl and watch we did. I don’t remember anyone complaining when, after the movie ended, it was immediately begun again, but perhaps my recollection is clouded by how much I loved (and still do) the film. Until now, however, I had never actually read the original book though I’ve owned it for several years.

As most people probably know, this is the story of humble and poor Charlie Bucket who loves chocolate very much but must be content with nightly meals of watery cabbage soup. As luck would have it, a huge and world-famous chocolate factory is on his way to school and every day he pauses to sniff the air near Wonka’s Factory, though his family is so poor they can only afford to give him one bar of chocolate each year on his birthday.

When Wonka announces his Golden Ticket contest—in which five Golden Tickets are hidden in Wonka chocolates, each entitling one child to a tour of the facilities and a life-time supply of candy—Charlie tries not to get his hopes up, but is nonetheless disappointed when his birthday bar fails to contain the golden prize. A second bar paid for from his Grandpa Joe’s secret fund yields the same results, and Charlie has almost given up hope when a lucky dollar found on the sidewalk buys him a bar containing the fifth and final Golden Ticket. The next day, Charlie and Grandpa Joe join four other children and their parents in a tour of the fantastic factory. Each of the other children has a flaw—eating too much, being spoiled, chewing gum constantly, and watching too much television—and is disqualified along the way by some means connected to it. In the end, only Charlie remains and it’s a happy ending for the well-deserving child.

Although the basic flow of the plot is the same and indeed, some lines of dialogue are used verbatim in the film (“Violet, you’re turning violet, Violet!”) there are some differences. No one in the book sings except for the Oompa Loompas (who are not orange and are sometimes female), and their songs are not nearly as catchy in print form. Charlie and Grandpa Joe do not commit the grievous sin of sampling fizzy lifting drinks, although the beverages and the method to combat their lifting powers are discussed, and Veruca’s exit is facilitated by nut-evaluating squirrels rather than an egg meter. I seem to recall that Tim Burton’s film version (which is pretty awful) keeps the squirrels, so perhaps special effects in 1971 were simply not up to the task of bringing them to life on the screen. Most importantly, there’s neither Mr. Slugworth nor any testing of Charlie to see whether he will protect Wonka’s secrets. When I was a kid I didn’t like that part because Wonka was mean to Charlie, but now that it’s gone, I find I miss it. In the book, Charlie is an observer who wins mostly by process of elimination, but in the film he’s required to prove his goodness and is a more interesting character.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is thoroughly charming and is undoubtedly a classic of children’s fiction. The fact remains, however, that I still like the movie more. Gene Wilder brings so much to the role of Willy Wonka, retaining his eccentricities but also endowing him with both warmth and menace, that even the original pales by comparison. Add to this the film’s more fleshed-out portrayal of Charlie and my choice is clear.

From the back cover:
Matilda is a genius. Before she was three years old she was reading the newspaper. By the age of four, Matilda was reading classics by Jane Austen and Charles Dickens. By the time Matilda becomes a student at Crunchem Hall, she’s bored stiff. When Matilda’s teacher, Miss Honey, tries to get her moved up a few grades she runs up against the Headmistress, Miss Trunchbull—two hundred pounds of mean, nasty, kid-hating bully.

Can even a genius like Matilda survive the rampages of Miss Trunchbull—or should she come up with a crafty plan to rid the school of the bully once and for all?

Review:
Matilda Wormwood is a genius, though her idiotic parents are completely incapable of recognizing this fact. Just when she’s about to start school, her father badmouths her to the cruel headmistress, Miss Trunchbull, who thereafter persists in having a negative opinion of Matilda, even after the girl’s teacher, Miss Honey, describes what a phenomenal child she is. When Matilda discovers that she possesses the ability to help the desperately poor Miss Honey and get back at Miss Trunchbull simultaneously, she leaps at the chance.

I really do think Dahl is remarkable among writers of children’s fiction for being able to craft stories that are equally appealing to children and adults. For example, although Matilda is moved to seek revenge against some odious adults in her life, grown-ups in general are not portrayed as villains, since her closest confidante is Miss Honey. And though the humor is clearly geared for children, it’s never stupid or crude and Matilda is generally polite and thoughtful. Probably a lot of this has to do with Dahl’s being British; I’ve seen plenty of obnoxious American tales about smug children humiliating adults and Matilda is nothing like them.

That said, how I wish I had discovered Matilda when I was ten! Like the lead character, I was the bookish daughter of TV-inclined parents, though at least mine were generally encouraging. I also had a dreadful experience in fourth grade of being presumed guilty by a teacher of something I didn’t do simply because I was away in Gifted class at the time and, unlike all of my other classmates, had not been given the opportunity to deny the accusations. Reading about Matilda and the similar plight in which she finds herself probably would’ve buoyed my spirits enormously at the time and made me feel less powerless.

I’ve now read and enjoyed two books by Dahl, which has spurred me to consider embarking on a more comprehensive effort. Stay tuned!