Roald Rage: On When and Whether It Makes Sense to Update Previously Published Text for Modern Sensibilities

“Don’t gobblefunk around with words.” —Roald Dahl

The following is my attempt at a balanced commentary regarding a recent controversy (earlier this year) surrounding the taming down of some of Roald Dahl’s children’s books terminology by publishing behemoth Penguin Random House (specifically via their UK imprint Puffin Books).

Unfortunately, were I to provide a wider-context essay detailing the influence of Victorian culture, ethics, and social mores in early-to-mid-20th century British authors (which gifted mankind with unforgettably rebellious masterpieces, rife with irony and stiff upper lips, yet tainted by colonialist jingoism and misanthropy), it would take up all of the WD server space, so I will be keeping this piece brief, brisk, and necessarily pragmatic.

From Prime Minister Sunak’s spokesman stating—on behalf of 10 Downing Street, I presume—that works of fiction should be “preserved and not airbrushed” [“Roald Dahl: Rishi Sunak Joins Criticism of Changes to Author’s Books.” BBC. 2-20-2023], to an understandably upset Salman Rushdie tweeting that “Puffin Books and the Dahl estate should be ashamed,” pragmatism, it would seem, has been absent from the discussion, everybody eager to jump into yet another social media-fanned outrage vehicle.

(Why I Don’t Maintain a Social Media Platform.)

I know all-too-well the feeling of being chased down by that rusty tanker truck. Commissioned by American publisher Papercutz to tweak the art of the first Smurfs graphic novel, Les Schtroumpfs noirs (a.k.a. “The Black Smurfs” by Peyo [Dupuis. 1963]). The job in question required every flesh-hungry zombie Smurf be repainted purple, its eyes red, to avoid any racial misinterpretation in the US, particularly among children (or adults lazy enough not to read beyond the cover).

Ironically, the publisher simply went for the same recoloring solution Hanna-Barbera Productions applied to the Saturday morning cartoon (a massive hit, by the way) nobody thought it worth batting an eyelid for back in 1981. Twenty-ten, however, saw my initial happiness at being kindly credited for the work sour when the issue escalated at adult French-language comic websites and forums. Hate-mail ensued.

A valuable lesson was soon learned: The affronted party is never the intended readership of the book in question.

If given the benefit of historical hindsight, Smurfs and Roald Dahl grown-up fans alike would do well to recognize tweaking content to appeal to modern children (and the parents that do the buying) isn’t a rare occurrence but the law of the land. It has been for well over a hundred years.

(The Secret of the 25 Chapters in Nancy Drew Books.)

Splendidly twisted in their original form, and splashed with socially critical overtones, old country folk tales ranging from Grimms’ Fairy Tales to Straparola’s Constantino Fortunato, a.k.a “Puss in Boots,” were pasteurized even before the original authors had passed, or Walt Disney laid a hand on them. Disney, in particular, knew it was moms that chose the movies the family went to see. He also knew they loved bedside stories like “Snow White” growing up. The fact the Evil Queen was the titular character’s envious biological mother in the original? Not so much.*

Likewise, I can imagine that buying some of Carl Barks’ supposedly “safe” original Dell-Western Donald Duck comics for the children, only to find African characters to be drawn in grotesque, ape-like fashion, wasn’t very pleasing to unsuspecting mid-century black parents back in the day; just as I can imagine how flipping through a Tintin in the Congo [Casterman. 1946] album would upset Mr. Bienvenu Mbutu Mondondo in 2007. Barks’ comics had been redrawn by other hands a few times by then, but Tintin publishers were not legally allowed to do such a thing—ever! Though Mr. Mondondo’s lawsuit was dismissed in Belgium, English-language Tintin publisher Egmont opted to reprint Congo for adult collectors only, while keeping it out of box sets that may find their way into children’s hands, an approach PRH ultimately followed.

Sadly, the quandary publishers face remains. Who do they publish fresh editions for? Like it or not, classics, be them in prose or graphic form, will be gobblefunked for modern sensibilities whenever the answer is “children.” The literary overzealous, on the other hand, may always be kept happy via facsimile editions, which begs the question: Does anybody remember the Dr. Seuss brouhaha from a few years back?

That’s what I thought.

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*A film universe populated by evil stepmoms and mingy uncles was the result. Hollywood, after all, is an industry of adaptation too.