When she had read every single children’s book in the place, she started wandering round in search of something else. The walk took only ten minutes and this allowed her two glorious hours sitting quietly by herself in a cosy corner devouring one book after another. ‘I’m sure I can manage.’įrom then on, every afternoon, as soon as her mother had left for bingo, Matilda would toddle down to the library. ‘Would you like me to help you find a nice one with lots of pictures in it?’ ‘They’re over there on those lower shelves,’ Mrs Phelps told her. ‘Where are the children’s books, please?’ Matilda asked. Mrs Phelps, slightly taken aback at the arrival of such a tiny girl unaccompanied by an adult, nevertheless told her she was very welcome.

She asked if she might sit awhile and read a book. When she arrived, she introduced herself to the librarian, Mrs Phelps. On the afternoon of the day when her father had refused to buy her a book, Matilda set out all by herself to walk to the public library in the village. Mrs Wormwood was hooked on bingo and played it five afternoons a week. Her father went to work and her mother went out playing bingo in a town eight miles away. Her brother (five years older than her) went to school. Nearly every weekday afternoon Matilda was left alone in the house. ‘What’s wrong with the telly, for heaven’s sake? We’ve got a lovely telly with a twelve-inch screen and now you come asking for a book! You’re getting spoiled, my girl!’ ‘Daddy,’ she said, ‘do you think you could buy me a book?’ The only book in the whole of this enlightened household was something called Easy Cooking belonging to her mother, and when she had read this from cover to cover and had learnt all the recipes by heart, she decided she wanted something more interesting. At the age of four, she could read fast and well and she naturally began hankering after books. By the time she was three, Matilda had taught herself to read by studying newspapers and magazines that lay around the house.

Matilda roald dahl book