I still remember reading Matilda by Roald Dahl when I was in elementary school, and as I put it back on the shelf, I sighed and stared at the spine lovingly.  I loved the character Matilda most of all,  It was surely one of my favorite books when I was about my daughter Madeleine’s age.

So it has not been easier to pick something at the library to read out loud with her than when I spotted Matilda.  I am going to make an argument that it is -seriously- his best book.  I love some of his others, notably Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, but James and the Giant Peach let me down, and I have only seen the movie The BFG, but I’m hoping to read this book out loud soon (I seriously can’t wait.)

But Matilda is downright stellar. Let me tell you why. I realize it might sound antiquated to praise a book I read as a child. It was published in 1988.  Imagine if your parents read a book (to you) from their childhood, when Harry Potter had first come out… anti-climactic, to say the least. And yet it must be done.

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