by Roald Dahl
Like pretty much every child in the UK, I was raised on Roald Dahl's stories. The BFG, The Witches, James and the Giant Peach and Matilda were often companions of mine throughout my childhood, and my poor Dad probably lost count of the amount of times he had to read Fantastic Mr. Fox with me. I loved Fantastic Mr. Fox.
In all honesty I could have talked about any one of those books today, but The Magic Finger is particularly special to me despite it being one of the few Dahl books I never actually owned my own copy of as a child. Not only is The Magic Finger one of Dahl's lesser talked about children's stories, it's also the first story I can remember reading straight through completely by myself. I don't know if it was the first book I read alone, but it's the first I remember and the main reason I remember it is because I was constantly borrowing it from my local library.
There was something about this story that I just loved as a child. I don't know whether it was the magic, the thought of this horrid family being forced to live in a nest or simply the fact that I loved that this little girl had the power to punish people with the power in her finger. As a little girl myself I loved that.
Now I do have my own copy, and it's tucked safely on my shelf. If I ever had children of my own, I know for a fact I'll be reading it to them.
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