I was incredibly fearful as a child: I hid my copy of The Witches at the top of a cupboard so it couldn’t “get” me; and I made my mum read the Gollum bits of The Hobbit out loud for me, as I was too scared to do it myself. So I was ready to deal with any literary terrors my children might bring to me sensitively and kindly. No go: as yet, my eight-year-old has been unafraid of everything from Gollum to Voldemort, and my kind and understanding face has been unrequired. Except on one occasion – for which I can blame David Walliams.
As Walliams’s latest children’s book racks up yet more incredible sales – the Bookseller reports that The Ice Monster sold more than 110,000 copies in less than a week, making it the fastest-selling title since Harry Potter and the Cursed Child – I am reminded, with great fondness, of one of his previous books, The World’s Worst Children 2. Not only is this one of the books that helped to persuade my daughter of the joys of reading, the short, funny chapters and joyous illustrations from Tony Ross tempting her into giving it a go all by herself; it’s also the book that first showed her just how much fun a good scare can be. As yet, Walliams’s story of Fussy Frankie who wouldn’t eat his vegetables and who ends up being eaten by them, is the only one to have given her nightmares. I never expected to have to comfort her about the fact that she’ll never actually be eaten alive by peas and cabbages, but there you go: different folks, different strokes. And the illustrations are, I will acknowledge, pretty terrifying.
I have to admit that I don’t particularly enjoy reading Walliams aloud – I’m not amused by the stories in the way I am by Roald Dahl’s, say. But the children I know all love him – they act out World’s Worst Children stories in the playground and at home, competing to come up with the most horrific outcome for their characters. You could credit his runaway success to his celebrity – but there are a ton of celebrities who think they can make a go of it as a children’s author, and who haven’t made an impact like Walliams on the book charts. The combination of a fabulous illustrator, a level of rudeness that children find appealing, and, of course, a heavy investment from his publisher coupled with the boost that glossy television adaptations brings, means that all those fart jokes are obviously working on the demographic they’re aimed at. Because his sales are truly astonishing: he was the bestselling author of last year, earning £13.8m; the first to spend 100 weeks in a row in the top spot on the children’s charts; and has had three books from his backlist sell more than 1m copies.
So after trying – horribly keenly and without much success – to push the books I loved as a child on to my daughter, I’ve decided to leave her to make her own selections. Well, as much as possible: I can’t help butting in now and then. The World’s Worst Children 3 is lined up and ready to go, thanks to a recent birthday, and I have a feeling The Ice Monster will be on the Christmas list. So thank you, David Walliams, for helping to make a reader of my little girl. And for, along the way, encouraging her to eat her peas.
• This article’s headline was corrected on 16 November 2018; 110,000 copies of The Ice Monster sold over five days, not three.
