The bastardisation of Roald Dahl’s ‘The Twits’

I was somewhat taken aback today by Puffin’s reveal of the character designs for their spin-off/sequel to The Twits (1980) co-authored by Greg James and Chris Smith. James and Smith, both well-known radio hosts, have written a handful of children’s books together: The Great Dream Robbery, Super Ghost and the ‘Kid Normal’ series. Their new book, The Twits Next Door (2024) is a spin-off, or follow-on, from Roald Dahl’s text. It has the following blurb:

Mr and Mrs Twit are just about as nasty and revolting as two people can get. The only thing that brings the two of them pleasure is playing pranks on one another. But, when a new family called the Lovelies move in next door, with their lively 10-year-old twins, they teach The Twits to stop being so mean and horrible and they all live happily ever after . . . Ha! Not really. The Twits HATE the Lovelies.

But how far will The Twits go to rid themselves of their horribly nice new neighbours? And what happens when these new neighbours, who are armed with utter loveliness, start to fight back?

Now, one obvious problem is that in Dahl’s 1980 text it is very heavily implied that Mr and Mrs Twit have died: after the birds have glued the couple to the ceiling and the Twits come down with “THE DREADED SHRINKS” (p.80) where their bodies shrink into themselves. Then, in the final scene, Fred arrives to take the gas metre reading and sees only “two bundles of old clothes, two pairs of shoes and a walking stick. There was nothing more left in this world of Mr and Mrs Twit” (p.81). Now – as with many of Dahl’s works – there is some ambiguity in the text. There is no specific authorial mention of the Twits’ demise; simply that they’ve shrunk and that their clothes are on the floor. The character who has come to take the gas metre reading has no prior knowledge of the glue-trap plan, nor of the Twits’ war with the birds; as such, his understanding of events is that they have simply disappeared for good. If he hadn’t seen these bundles of clothes, perhaps he would simply think that the Twits were not at home – not dead. It is notable that the narrator does not present the ending, but presents the reader with Fred’s version of the ending. This means that, actually, the Twits may be alive and well – just elsewhere. So the plausibility for a sequel remains.

That James and Smith are both celebrity authors lends a certain marketability to their work, relying on readers’ pre-established relationship with their books as well as their relationship with Dahl’s text. But, as Puffin are releasing a series of new books “inspired by” Dahl’s texts, this is actually undermined – how much of the book did James and Smith actually author, how much was within their control? The pessimist in me believes that Puffin – a true marketing mastermind – would have already decided on plots before seeking authors to write it. The Independent has reported that this book is “part of a new book series commissioned by the Roald Dahl Story Company inspired by the late author’s original works” (link). With the Netflix adaptations (of which one recently won an Oscar) churning along in the background, this new line of sequels will inevitably boost sales of Dahl’s books alongside their spin-offs, and whets the appetite for the movies. The Twits is, naturally, receiving the Netflix treatment; the first ever filmic adaptation is due to hit streaming services in 2025. The film and The Twits Next Door do not appear to be related (though both insert child characters as the new antagonists for the Twits).

Dahl’s texts and characters have been syphoned off into various other gift books (covering the alphabet, numbers, colouring in books and more) for years. This is the same treatment many of Puffin’s authors receive – notably Eric Carle’s The Very Hungry Caterpillar and The Gruffalo by Julia Donaldson. There is a relentlessness with which these gift books are marketed. Notably there is also a Christmas short-story collection in the works, according to The Bookseller (link), with a variety of well-known authors taking on Dahl’s characters.

I’m also curious about the decision to have Emily Jones as the illustrator; with Blake so synonymous with the Dahl brand it seems a somewhat surprising deviation, if the goal is to market this book to lovers of Dahl’s 1980 text. Again, the pessimist in me wonders if having such a new and young illustrator (it appears that this is her first book publication) is a strategic choice for longevity, given that Blake is 91 years old. The choice of illustration/illustrator strikes me as a similar change of style for the Horrid Henry series: from Tony Ross’s scratchy, almost haphazard style to one that’s more sleek and defined for the animated series. While the Twits remain tatty and dirty, there is a deliberateness in the new illustrations which I feel actually undermines their intended grottiness. The stitches on Mr Twit’s patches too perfect, his beard too rounded, Mrs Twit’s tattered clothes too neatly torn and only at the hem.

Horrid Henry’s illustration progression

The Twits illustration progression

In another clever marketing move, the Twits are set against the Lovelies family. This is an homage to the infamous quote from Dahl’s text: “if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely” (p.8). This chimes in with the utilisation of nostalgia for the branding and marketing materials for Roald Dahl’s texts. It also comes not long after Puffin’s controversial decision to censor Dahl’s children’s books and rewrite some of the more offensive lines; this led to Puffin apparently backpedalling and deciding to publish two editions of each book, the censored and the original – now branded as ‘the classic’. (Though, once more, the pessimist in me wonders if this was the plan all along!)

It is with some trepidation that I await this book’s release date – but read it I shall…