Audiobook Sample
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- Title: BFG
- Author: Roald Dahl
- Narrator: David Walliams
- Length: 04:25:00
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 03/07/2013
- Publisher: Listening Library (Audio)
- Genre: Kids, General, Fairy Tales & Folklore, Humor
- ISBN13: 9.78E+12
There’s something magical about encountering Roald Dahl’s worlds through the ear rather than the eye. As someone who’s spent years collecting oral traditions from Oaxaca to Marrakech, I can tell you that “The BFG” audiobook, narrated by the brilliantly jumbly David Walliams, captures that same intimate storytelling magic I’ve found around campfires and kitchen tables across the world.
Listening to this production while driving through the misty Scottish Highlands last autumn (where the landscape looked suspiciously like Giant Country), I was struck by how Walliams’ performance elevates Dahl’s wordplay into pure auditory delight. His rendition of the BFG’s gloriously mixed-up vocabulary – ‘human beans,’ ‘whizzpoppers,’ and ‘snozzcumbers’ – dances with the same playful energy I remember from my own childhood bedtime stories. It’s the kind of narration that makes you pull over just to savor a particularly delicious phrase, much like stopping to admire an unexpected mountain vista.
Walliams, himself a celebrated children’s author, understands Dahl’s rhythm perfectly. He gives the BFG a voice that’s equal parts lumbering giant and gentle grandfather – a difficult balance that reminded me of the Maya storytellers in Guatemala who can make their voices grow to fill a valley one moment, then shrink to a conspiratorial whisper the next. His Sophie is pitch-perfect too, capturing that blend of curiosity and courage that makes her one of Dahl’s most endearing heroines. When she declares, ‘I think your jokes is rotten!’ with all the indignation of a child who’s just been served vegetables, I laughed aloud in my rental car like I was eight years old again.
The audio production shines in its treatment of Dahl’s linguistic inventiveness. Gobblefunk – that marvelous nonsense language of giants – takes on new life when spoken aloud. Words like ‘trogglehumper’ (the very worst nightmare) and ‘frobscottle’ (the fizzy drink that causes whizzpoppers) become tangible things you can almost taste. It’s an effect I’ve only experienced a handful of times – listening to Gabriel García Márquez’s “One Hundred Years of Solitude” in Spanish, or hearing a Navajo elder tell coyote stories near Monument Valley. There’s an alchemy that happens when nonsense words are given breath and intention, and Walliams is a master alchemist.
What surprised me most was how the audio format amplifies the story’s emotional core. The quiet moments – Sophie and the BFG sharing dreams in his cave, the melancholy beauty of the ‘witching hour’ when ‘all the dark secrets come out from hiding’ – land with unexpected weight. Without the visual distraction of Quentin Blake’s iconic illustrations (wonderful as they are), you’re left alone in the dark with these characters, just as Sophie is when she’s first snatched from her orphanage bed. It creates an intimacy that print can’t quite match.
The story’s themes of outsiderhood and unlikely friendship resonated deeply with me as a traveler who’s often been the odd one out. The BFG, ostracized by his fellow giants for refusing to eat children, is the ultimate misfit – a gentle soul in a world of brutish Bonecrunchers and Fleshlumpeaters. His bond with Sophie, another lonely soul, mirrors those unexpected connections I’ve cherished on the road: the Moroccan carpet seller who became a dear friend, the Japanese fisherman who taught me to mend nets. Dahl reminds us that family isn’t always about blood – sometimes it’s about who shares your dreams (or in this case, your frobscottle).
If I have one critique, it’s that the pacing occasionally suffers from Walliams’ deliberate enunciation. Some scenes that should feel breathless – like the giants’ raid on England – move at the same measured pace as the quieter moments. But this is a minor quibble in an otherwise masterful performance. The audiobook also includes a delightful bonus: Walliams reading Dahl’s original poem ‘The BFG’s Dream,’ a treat that had me grinning like I’d just discovered a golden ticket.
For parents and educators, this production is pure gold. It’s the perfect companion for family road trips (though be prepared for giggles when the whizzpopping starts) or classroom listening sessions. As someone who’s seen firsthand how oral storytelling builds literacy and imagination – from the one-room schoolhouses of Nepal to Brooklyn libraries – I can’t overstate the value of experiencing stories this way. There’s a reason my Oaxacan host grandmother insisted stories be told aloud: ‘The words have to dance in the air before they can live in the heart,’ she’d say.
Compared to other Dahl audiobooks, this stands among the best. It lacks the star-studded cast of “Matilda” (read by Kate Winslet) but makes up for it with Walliams’ deep understanding of Dahl’s voice. It’s more cohesive than the patchwork “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” narration, and more emotionally nuanced than “The Twits” (though that book’s nastiness is part of its charm). For pure vocal invention, only “The Enormous Crocodile” read by Stephen Fry comes close.
As the mist swirled around my car in those Scottish highlands, the BFG’s final line – ‘Dreams is full of mystery and magic… Do not try to understand them’ – took on new meaning. Isn’t that why we travel? Why we read? To embrace the mystery and magic without always needing to dissect it? This audiobook, like all great stories, reminds us that wonder isn’t just for children – it’s for anyone willing to climb into a giant’s ear and see where he takes you.
May your dreams be golden and your whizzpoppers plentiful, Marcus
Marcus Rivera
