Danny The Champion Of The World

Danny The Champion Of The World

Paperback | August 16, 2007

byRoald DahlIllustratorQuentin Blake

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Can Danny and his father outsmart the villainous Mr. Hazell?

Danny has a life any boy would love—his home is a gypsy caravan, he's the youngest master car mechanic around, and his best friend is his dad, who never runs out of wonderful stories to tell. But one night Danny discovers a shocking secret that his father has kept hidden for years. Soon Danny finds himself the mastermind behind the most incredible plot ever attempted against nasty Victor Hazell, a wealthy landowner with a bad attitude. Can they pull it off? If so, Danny will truly be the champion of the world.

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Danny The Champion Of The World

Paperback | August 16, 2007
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From the Publisher

Can Danny and his father outsmart the villainous Mr. Hazell?Danny has a life any boy would love—his home is a gypsy caravan, he's the youngest master car mechanic around, and his best friend is his dad, who never runs out of wonderful stories to tell. But one night Danny discovers a shocking secret that his father has kept hidden for y...

Roald Dahl (1916-1990) was born in Wales of Norwegian parents. He spent his childhood in England and, at age eighteen, went to work for the Shell Oil Company in Africa. When World War II broke out, he joined the Royal Air Force and became a fighter pilot. At the age of twenty-six he moved to Washington, D.C., and it was there he began ...

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Format:PaperbackDimensions:240 pages, 7.7 × 5.05 × 0.6 inPublished:August 16, 2007Publisher:Penguin Young Readers GroupLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0142410330

ISBN - 13:9780142410332

Appropriate for ages: 9 - 12

Reviews

Rated 5 out of 5 by from I'm surprised I have no words. THIS BOOK WAS BEYOND A SCORE OF 100-100:) THE SETTING GREAT AND THE BOOK WA GREAT:)
Date published: 2015-01-19
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Awesome book!! I love Roald Dahl's descriptions. It is one of my favourite Roald Dahl books.
Date published: 2014-10-23
Rated 5 out of 5 by from The best Dahl story ever! I have read through a wide selection of Roald Dahl's books including the ones that get the most publicity, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach and The Witches. When I found Danny Champion of the World, I found a book that seemed far more personal for Dahl. Indeed, in backgrounds to the story, it seems he wrote it to reflect his relationship to his own father. I love this book. I read it every year or so. I read it to my primary classes at school. I buy extra copies and give them away so others will read it and learn to love it too. It is a story of a father and son, a father who is left to raise his son after his wife dies when the son is an infant. There is an awesome tenderness throughout the book even while the characters are setting traps, dealing with nasty neighbours and just struggling to get by. There are many wonderful lessons children and adults can learn in this entertaining novel. Hopefully, unlike other reviewers, you will be clever enough to see them. Empathy, kindness, resourcefulness, compassion and the strong bond of love between a father and child even while you laugh at their adventures. Read this book, read it with a child if you can, and learn to love it too.
Date published: 2014-07-07
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Awesome book!! An attention grabbing book, with excitement around each page flip. This book is a book read almost around the world. Read this book and be amazed about this boy and loving father which they loved each other most, and what adventures they got up to.
Date published: 2014-04-03
Rated 2 out of 5 by from Unexciting Danny The Champion Of The World by Roald Dahl is uninteresting for adults and does not teach good lessons to children, other than that they should enjoy spending time with their fathers. Such lessons include that even though poaching is wrong, you should still do it because it is exciting, thus you should do bad things to bad people. If I had children, I would not allow them to read this novel. Danny and his father assemble things at their pump station, and spend all of their time together. One day Danny’s father lets him in on a secret, that he used poach birds. Danny comes up with a clever plan and his dad starts calling him “Danny the Champion of the World.”
Date published: 2008-10-14
Rated 5 out of 5 by from The Best Book I've Ever Read!!!!! I've read Danny, the Champion over twelve times since I got it (5 years ago) and every time has been better than the last. They should make a movie of this! (but if they do it won't be as good as the book!)
Date published: 2005-08-12

Extra Content

Read from the Book

The Filling StationWHEN I was four months old, my mother died suddenly and my father was left to look after me all by himself. This is how I looked at the time.I had no brothers or sisters.So all through my boyhood, from the age of four months onward, there was just us two, my father and me.We lived in an old gypsy caravan behind a filling station. My father owned the filling station and the caravan and a small meadow behind, but that was about all he owned in the world. It was a very small filling station on a small country road surrounded by fields and woody hills.While I was still a baby, my father washed me and fed me and changed my diapers and did all the millions of other things a mother normally does for her child. That is not an easy task for a man, especially when he has to earn his living at the same time by repairing automobile engines and serving customers with gasoline.But my father didn't seem to mind. I think that all the love he had felt for my mother when she was alive he now lavished upon me. During my early years, I never had a moment's unhappiness or illness, and here I am on my fifth birthday.I was now a scruffy little boy as you can see, with grease and oil all over me, but that was because I spent all day in the workshop helping my father with the automobiles.The filling station itself had only two pumps. There was a wooden shed behind the pumps that served as an office. There was nothing in the office except an old table and a cash register to put the money into. It was one of those where you pressed a button and a bell rang and the drawer shot out with a terrific bang. I used to love that.The square brick building to the right of the office was the workshop. My father built that himself with loving care, and it was the only really solid thing on the place. "We are engineers, you and I," he used to say to me. "We earn our living by repairing engines and we can't do good work in a rotten workshop." It was a fine workshop, big enough to take one automobile comfortably and leave plenty of room around the sides for working. It had a telephone so that customers could ring up and arrange to bring their cars in for repair.The caravan was our house and our home. It was a real old gypsy wagon with big wheels and fine patterns painted all over it in yellow and red and blue. My father said it was at least one hundred and fifty years old. Many gypsy children, he said, had been born in it and had grown up within its wooden walls. With a horse to pull it, the old caravan must have wandered for thousands of miles along the roads and lanes of England. But now its wanderings were over, and because the wooden spokes in the wheels were beginning to rot, my father had propped it up underneath with bricks.There was only one room in the caravan, and it wasn't much bigger than a fair-sized modern bathroom. It was a narrow room, the shape of the caravan itself, and against the back wall were two bunk beds, one above the other. The top one was my father's, the bottom one mine.Although we had electric lights in the workshop, we were not allowed to have them in the caravan. The electricity people said it was unsafe to put wires into something as old and rickety as that. So we got our heat and light in much the same way as the gypsies had done years ago. There was a wood-burning stove with a chimney that went up through the roof, and this kept us warm in winter. There was a kerosene burner on which to boil a kettle or cook a stew, and there was a kerosene lamp hanging from the ceiling.When I needed a bath, my father would heat a kettle of water and pour it into a basin. Then he would strip me naked and scrub me all over, standing up. This, I think, got me just as clean as if I were washed in a bathtub probably cleaner because I didn't finish up sitting in my own dirty water.For furniture, we had two chairs and a small table, and those, apart from a tiny chest of drawers, were all the home comforts we possessed. They were all we needed.The lavatory was a funny little wooden hut standing in the meadow way back of the caravan. It was fine in summertime, but I can tell you that sitting out there on a snowy day in winter was like sitting in an icebox.Immediately behind the caravan was an old apple tree. It bore fine apples that ripened in the middle of September. You could go on picking them for the next four orfive weeks. Some of the boughs of the tree hung right over the caravan and when the wind blew the apples down in the night, they often landed on our roof. I would hear them going thump... thump... thump... above my head as I lay in my bunk, but those noises never frightened me because I knew exactly what was making them.I really loved living in that gypsy caravan. I loved it especially in the evenings when I was tucked up in mybunk and my father was telling me stories. The kerosene lamp was turned low, and I could see lumps of wood glowing red-hot in the old stove, and wonderful it was tobe lying there snug and warm in my bunk in that little room. Most wonderful of all was the feeling that when I went to sleep, my father would still be there, very close tome, sitting in his chair by the fire, or lying in the bunk above my own.