I made a mistake with The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar. I watched the Netflix version first, then read the story afterward. By the time I started reading, I couldn’t un-see the movie, especially since the adaptation was almost verbatim. I’ve written about that experience before.
So I made a rule for myself to read Roald Dahl first before watching any of the adaptation.
For context, Wes Anderson made four short films for Netflix based on Roald Dahl stories: The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, The Swan, The Rat Catcher, and Poison. They were released in 2023 as an anthology.
I prefer to keep things in chronological order. Since the next story after “Henry Sugar” is “The Swan,” I followed my rule and read it first before watching the adaptation.
“The Swan” must be one of the most disturbing stories written by Roald Dahl. I can only guess. I haven’t read all of his works.
In "The Swan", we follow Peter Watson, a quiet boy who loves birds, as he is hunted by two bullies, Ernie and Raymond. It has nothing to do with rivalry or hatred. They target him because he is gentle, because he is different.
Dahl’s writing is sharp and fast. Once the story begins, it’s hard to stop. Still, I struggled with it. I expected the cruelty to be exaggerated or cartoonish. In many of Roald Dahl’s stories, cruelty is theatrical, shaped by grotesque exaggeration. Children turn into blueberries. A tyrannical headmistress hurls students across a playground. The horror is stylized, and it keeps a certain distance from us.
“The Swan” removes that distance.
The story begins with Ernie receiving a .22 rifle for his fifteenth birthday. A teenager is given a real weapon and encouraged to enjoy it. It’s unsettling. The violence escalates quickly, first birds, then Peter. The bullying is slow and mechanical. On the train tracks. In the woods. And finally, the swan itself.
The climax of the story is the hardest to read. The violence feels close and raw. Dahl offers no relief. Only a brief reflection on endurance:
“Some people, when they have taken too much and have been driven beyond the point of endurance, simply crumple and give up. There are others, though they are not many, who will for some reason always be unconquerable. You meet them in time of war and time of peace. They have an indomitable spirit and nothing, neither pain nor torture nor threat of death, will cause them to give up.”
The idea is beautiful. But watching Peter reach that point is exhausting. By the end, I wasn’t impressed. I was tired.
What disturbed me most was how ordinary the cruelty felt. The bullies are just bored boys. It isn’t even hatred. Only boys, a rifle, and too much empty time.
The image of Peter Watson and the swan stayed with me, not because it was the most magical thing that happened in the story, but because it felt so unfair. There was no poetic justice at the end.
I liked what Wes Anderson did with The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar. The stylized staging and theatrical narration felt right for that material. I’m not sure the same approach works here.
I kept thinking, what does a perfectly centered shot do to a boy being forced to wear a dead bird? I don’t want to find out.
Not everything needs a lesson. “The Swan” doesn’t offer one. It stays in my mind because it doesn’t try to explain what it shows. The cruelty isn’t dramatic. It just happens.
I closed the book without feeling satisfied. Far from it. I don’t think it was ever meant to make me feel that way.
