From The BFG by Roald Dahl:
“This is Giant Country,” the BFG said. “Those is all giants, every one.”
It was a brain-boggling sight. The giants were all naked except for a sort
of short skirt around their waists, and their skins were burnt brown by the
sun. But it was the sheer size of each
one of them that boggled Sophie’s brain most of all. They were simply colossal.
“What on earth are they doing?” Sophie asked.
“Nothing,” said the BFG.
“They is just moocheling and footcheling around and waiting for the
night to come. Then they will all be
galloping off to places were people is living to find their suppers.”
“Do they ever go to England?” Sophie asked.
“Often,” said the BFG.
“They say the English is tasting ever so wonderfully of crodscollop.”
“I’m not sure I quite know what that means,” Sophie said.
“Meanings is not important,” said the BFG. “I cannot be right all the time. Quite often I is left instead of right.”
The BFG then produces a strange-looking vegetable.
“Here is the repulsant snozzcumber!” cried the BFG, waiving
it about. “I squiggle it! I mispise it!
I dispunge it! But because I is
refusing to gobble up human beans like the other giants, I must spend my life
guzzling up icky-poo snozzcumbers instead.
If I don’t, I will be nothing but skin and groans.
“You mean skin and bones,” Sophie said.
“I know it is bones,” the BFG said. “But please understand that I cannot be
helping it if I sometimes is saying things a little squiggly. I is trying my very best all the time.” The Big Friendly Giant looked suddenly so
forlorn that Sophie got quite upset.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“There never was any schools to teach me talking in Giant
Country,” the BFG said sadly.
“But couldn’t your mother have taught you?” Sophie asked.
“My mother!” cried the BFG.
Giants don’t have mothers! Surely
you is knowing that!”
Traditionally, mothers have stayed at home and taken care of
their children. While that aspect of
society may be changing, far more women than men tend to pause or stop their careers to take care of their children.
Unlike humans, the giants are a single-sex species. Without a mother’s influence, they must learn
to speak on their own. Using a book
written by a human, the BFG has taught himself to read and write. But still, communicating with others proves
difficult.
When speaking with family and friends, I may not always make
my meaning clear. Strangers may not
catch the intended humor in a statement, as they don’t know me. When writing, I often have to edit a letter, post or story several times to ensure that it says exactly what I intend it
to. Thanks to Roald Dahl's novel, The BFG, I’m
reminded how poor my communication skills might have been, had it not been for
a mother who stayed home with me, talked with me, and (last, but certainly not least) always made sure
I had plenty to read.
Thanks, Mom!
Dragon Dave
Selected portions of The BFG come from Chapter 6: The Giants
and Chapter 8: Snozzcumbers.
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