Honeyed Words: Kiss Kiss by Roald Dahl

Kiss Kiss by Roald Dahl · 20 March 2007

As a kid I was a huge fan of Roald Dahl. I think I discovered him about second grade, and by the time I had finished third I’d read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, The BFG, James and the Giant Peach, and The Witches. Sometime later in elementary school I read his collection of short stories, The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More. I remember being fascinated by the quirky and shocking character of these stories. Dahl created marvelous worlds for children to explore in his stories and wasn’t afraid to pack them with terrifying dangers. Every world, while obviously imaginary, seemed real because the caliber of drama was so self contained and seamless.

I started reading Kiss Kiss last fall with great anticipation, hoping to find in his adult fiction the same sense of wonder and inherent realism that was present in his children’s’ books. Unfortunately, I was initially disappointed. I read the first three stories, and then lost interest. Admittedly the losing of interest was more due to the hectic holiday season then any failing of the book, but even after three stories I began to get that “been there, read that, too busy to do it again” feeling.

After starting off with the most negative statement possible, let me now say I did eventually finish the book, first letting it sit on my shelf a few months, then lending it out to my boyfriend, who wanted to talk about it.

One thing that Dahl excels at is characterization. He paints descriptions of his actors in sharp, bold strokes, endowing in their appearance stereotypical personality traits. A cosmopolitan mother is described as wearing “huge bracelets on her wrists, five or six of them at a time, with all sorts of things hanging from them and tinkling against each other as they moved,” sitting “on the sofa in her black trousers with her feet underneath her, smoking endless cigarettes from a long black holder.” Even the passing characters are described, cataloged and sorted in one or two economic lines. The solicitor in one story make a two paragraph appearance yet leaves us with the perfect impression of respectability, “pale and prim, and out of respect for the widow he kept his head on one side as he spoke, looking downward.”

Kiss Kiss shares the trait of Stephen King’s that makes me find his horror truly scary. While reading each story, you have no problem believing they could happen. Masked men dripping blood and brandishing chainsaws? Not scary, campy. Little old ladies of proper breeding and solid reputation leaving their husband to starve in an elevator? Terrifying.

Each story in the book has a “twist,” a little something shocking at the end that disadvantages the main character in some large or small way. Sometimes these twists are amusing yet slightly uncomfortable, the sort of laugh one has at the expense of others while secretly thinking to themselves, “I’m certainly glad that wasn’t me,” or self righteously congratulating themselves on never getting into such a bad scrape. Some of the other twists were nothing less than macabre.

By the end of the book, I approached each story with a sense of anticipation bordering on agitation. As I read the opening pages of the story, I kept looking for the clues, the telltale signs of which character would be dispossessed of some vital aspect of their life. It made for an uncomfortable read, being constantly on guard and waiting for the floor of the story to drop out below you.

I’m still a fan of Dahl, but for me, this was a book better spread out over months than read in bulk. It felt that each story should be savored individually when the mood for a slight thrill overtook me. Digesting so much dryly delivered horror at once was an overload.

Childhood Reading, Roald Dahl, Horror, Kiss Kiss