书名：Boy Tales of Childhood好小子童年故事

难度：Lexile蓝思阅读指数1020L
作者：Roald Dahl罗尔德·达尔
出版社名称：Puffin Books
出版时间：2009
语种：英文
ISBN：9780142413814
商品尺寸：12.9 x 1.3 x 19.7 cm
包装：平装
页数：192
Boy Tales of Childhood《好小子童年故事》是一部罗尔德·达尔自己不愿意称之为“自传”的自传，真实地记录了达尔童年和少年时代的生活。记录的时间段从1916到1936年，即从出生到达尔离开学校进入壳牌石油公司工作。达尔在壳牌石油公司工作，到参加皇家空军投入二战的惊险经历，记录在他的另一部自传《独创天下》中。在达尔看来，通常所说的自传应当是完全忠实地、尽可能不遗漏细节地讲述一生或某个阶段的经历，而他自己记录下来的东西却是有选择的，只有那些滑稽的、让人痛苦的、叫人不愉快的，从而仍然栩栩如生地印在脑海中的事情才被他记住，然后记录下来。由于达尔天性幽默，喜爱冒险，充满想象力，而且总是在有意无意地追求着生活中令人刺激的一面，所以他的故事本身甚至可以说是非常刺激的而且非常幽默的。

罗尔德·达尔的作品构思奇特，情节紧凑，在每个故事的一开始就打破现实与幻想之间的常规对应，给人一种或幽默或荒诞或机智的美感；同时更重要的是，他的作品都具有一种让人一读就爱不释手的魔力。2000年，英国在“世界图书日”期间行的一次“我很喜欢的作家”投票中，达尔这个名字高踞首位，连《哈利波特》的作者J.K.罗琳也只能位列其后。

Find out where the bestselling author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and The BFG got all his wonderful story ideas in this autobiographical account of his childhood!
From his own life, of course! As full of excitement and the unexpected as his world-famous, best-selling books, Roald Dahl’s tales of his own childhood are completely fascinating and fiendishly funny. Did you know that Roald Dahl nearly lost his nose in a car accident? Or that he was once a chocolate candy tester for Cadbury’s? Have you heard about his involvement in the Great Mouse Plot of 1924? If not, you don’t yet know all there is to know about Roald Dahl. Sure to captivate and delight you, the boyhood antics of this master storyteller are not to be missed!
罗尔德·达尔是世界奇幻文学大师，他的作品构思奇特，情节紧凑，在每个故事的开始就打破现实与幻想之间的常规对应，其魔力穿越语言和国界。凡是读过达尔作品的孩子全都情不自禁迷倒在他创造的畅快淋漓的魔力世界，无一幸免。

主要作品包括：《查理和巧克力工厂》《女巫》《了不起的狐狸爸爸》《好心眼儿巨人》《詹姆斯和大仙桃》《玛蒂尔达》等等，上述作品都先后被拍成电影，如：《查理和巧克力工厂》由影帝“约翰尼德普”主演；《好心眼儿巨人》由奥斯卡金牌导演“斯皮尔伯格”执导，黄磊、黄多多配音。
众多重点小学语文老师推荐孩子课外阅读达尔的书，黄多多说达尔的故事她看了一遍又一遍，多多妈妈发微博说罗尔德达尔是多多非常非常喜欢的作家。
达尔获得的重要奖项：
三度获得“爱伦·坡文学奖”；
获得英国“白面包儿童图书奖”；
获得“英国儿童图书奖”；
获得“德国青少年文学奖”；
获得“世界奇幻文学大会奖”；
英国读者票选战胜J.K.罗琳的当代文学大师。
Roald Dahlis one of the most successful and well-known of all children’s writers. His books, which are read by children the world over, includeJames and the Giant Peach; Charlie and the Chocolate Factory;The Witches and Matilda.
Papa and Mama

My father, Harald Dahl, was a Norwegian who came from a small town near Oslo, called Sarpsborg. His own father, my grandfather, was a fairly prosperous merchant who owned a store in Sarpsborg and traded in just about everything from cheese to chicken-wire.
I am writing these words in 1984, but this grandfather of mine was born, believe it or not, in 1820, shortly after Wellington had defeated Napoleon at Waterloo. If my grandfather had been alive today he would have been one hundred and sixty-four years old. My father would have been one hundred and twenty-one. Both my father and my grandfather were late starters so far as children were concerned.
When my father was fourteen, which is still more than one hundred years ago, he was up on the roof of the family house replacing some loose tiles when he slipped and fell. He broke his left arm below the elbow. Somebody ran to fetch the doctor, and half an hour later this gentleman made a majestic and drunken arrival in his horse-drawn buggy. He was so drunk that he mistook the fractured elbow for a dislocated shoulder.
‘We’ll soon put this back into place!’ he cried out, and two men were called off the street to help with the pulling. They were instructed to hold my father by the waist while the doctor grabbed him by the wrist of the broken arm and shouted, ‘Pull men, pull! Pull as hard as you can!’
The pain must have been excruciating. The victim screamed, and his mother, who was watching the performance in horror, shouted ‘Stop!’ But by then the pullers had done so much damage that a splinter of bone was sticking out through the skin of the forearm.
This was in 1877 and orthopaedic surgery was not what it is today. So they simply amputated the arm at the elbow, and for the rest of his life my father had to manage with one arm. Fortunately, it was the left arm that he lost and gradually, over the years, he taught himself to do more or less anything he wanted with just the four fingers and thumb of his right hand. He could tie a shoelace as quickly as you or me, and for cutting up the food on his plate, he sharpened the bottom edge of a fork so that it served as both knife and fork all in one. He kept his ingenious instrument in a slim leather case and carried it in his pocket wherever he went. The loss of an arm, he used to say, caused him only one serious inconvenience. He found it impossible to cut the top off a boiled egg.
My father was a year or so older than his brother Oscar, but they were exceptionally close, and soon after they left school, they went for a long walk together to plan their future. They decided that a small town like Sarpsborg in a small country like Norway was no place in which to make a fortune. So what they must do, they agreed, was go away to one of the big countries, either to England or France, where opportunities to make good would be boundless.
Their own father, an amiable giant nearly seven foot tall, lacked the drive and ambition of his sons, and he refused to support this tomfool idea. When he forbade them to go, they ran away from home, and somehow or other the two of them managed to work their way to France on a cargo ship.
From Calais they went to Paris, and in Paris they agreed to separate because each of them wished to be independent of the other. Uncle Oscar, for some reason, headed west for La Rochelle on the Atlantic coast, while my father remained in Paris for the time being.
The story of how these two brothers each started a totally separate business in different countries and how each of them made a fortune is interesting, but there is no time to tell it here except in the briefest manner.