Danny the Champion of the World by Roald Dahl * * * *

Danny the Champion of the World by Roald Dahl was my second read for the 2026 Popsugar Challenge, for the prompt “A book with a dad as the primary caregiver.” Although written as a children’s book, it works just as well for adult readers; it is simple on the surface, but pointed in what it chooses to show. The book was published in the UK in 1976, and it very much belongs to its place and time.

This is an unmistakably British story. Danny lives with his father in a gypsy caravan, which for non-British readers is essentially a mobile home without electricity, plumbing, or gas. They are poor, they run a small petrol station, and they live on the edges of society in more ways than one. When Danny discovers that his father once poached pheasants from the nearby woods, the story begins to open up. The woods belong to the local landowner, Mr Hazell, a man who is enormously wealthy and deeply unpleasant.

On the surface, the novel is about poaching and the small adventures that come with it. Underneath, it is very clearly about wealth and inequality. The pheasants are not just birds; they are a symbol of excess. Mr Hazell buys the chicks, raises them until they are fat, and then invites other rich men to shoot them for sport. As Danny’s father explains, the money spent simply raising these birds could feed families for months. In a modern retelling, this excess might look like influencers buying Birkin bags for status alone, filling rooms with unused makeup, or treating luxury as spectacle. In the post-war decades, pheasant shooting served the same purpose.

Poaching originally came from necessity. During the economic hardships of the 1940s and 1950s, families did it because they were starving. By the time of this story, the motivation has shifted. It is no longer about survival, but about reclaiming a little power from those who hoard it.

The book closes with a direct message to child readers, wishing them parents as fun as Danny’s father. But the message lands more heavily on adults. This is not a call for constant chaos or grand adventures; it is a reminder not to become rigid, distant, or overly serious. Written in an era when strict parenting was the norm, boarding schools were common, and playing with your children was often seen as indulgent, the novel quietly argues for warmth, presence, and shared joy.

That gentleness is what gives the story its lasting weight. Beneath the humour and mischief, it insists that love, fairness, and a bit of rebellion still matter—and that children remember who chose to be present with them.