Unknown (main narrator, possibly Aaron Tracy)

Before he died, her husband had been adamant about one thing.

Their children must be educated in England.

He believed with almost religious fervor that England's education system was the secret alchemy that transformed its people into a world power.

And so, in a wild act of devotion to his memory, Sophie honors his wishes.

She stays in England, a widow with a house full of children, in a country not her own, speaking a language she didn't grow up with.

This is the foundation that Dahl's imagination is built on.

Loss, devotion, and the ghost of a father whose absence shapes everything.

After his father's death, Dahl spent several years surrounded by his remaining sisters, a bustling household of women who should have been a built-in support system during those dark days.

You'd think they'd band together, united by loss.

And maybe they did.

Maybe behind closed doors, there were moments of connection, of shared tears and whispered comforts.

But I can't help wondering if young Rold, the only boy in this sea of women, somehow remained adrift.

Because here's a curious thing that sort of haunts me about Dahl's work.

Every one of his child heroes, with only a single exception I can think of, stands completely alone in the world with no siblings.

James, Charlie, Danny, Sophie, on and on.

All of them face their monsters without siblings by their side.

This can't have been accidental.

This wasn't just convenient plotting.

Despite being physically surrounded by family, Dahl must have felt achingly alone.

It's there in those children who vanish without a trace in the BFG, swallowed by the night while everyone else just sleeps, oblivious.