I’ve been a die-hard Roald Dahl fan ever since I read Matilda and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Like all true fans, I went hunting for his other works, and one of my top favourites has to be George’s Marvellous Medicine.
Before we dive into this review, I’d like to remind you that Roald Dahl writes children’s books. So if you’re a lover of old-timey, slightly mischievous children’s stories, this might be the book for you.
If you’re new to Dahl’s world, prepare to suspend every ounce of logic and maybe your moral compass too, because the stories are wild.
Just like the title promises, George’s Marvellous Medicine is reckless, unpredictable, and magical. The story centres around George, a regular boy with an out-of-textbook grandma.
And unlike the sweet, cuddly grandmothers you often find in bedtime stories, George’s grandmother is anything but soft. She’s mean, demanding, and has an air of cold superiority that rubs off on everyone around her, including George, her only grandchild.
Fed up with her nagging and strange behaviour, George decides to “solve the issue” by making a medicine, not one to heal, but to humble. And before you jump to conclusions, this is no herbal tea remedy. George raids the house in a frenzy, mixing anything and everything he can find: shampoo, engine oil, floor polish, toothpaste, even animal feed.
It’s absurd, chaotic, and exactly the kind of thing a child with too much imagination and too little supervision would dream up.
His unsuspecting (and still very unpleasant) grandma takes the medicine, and everything explodes from there. Not in a literal fireball kind of way, but in the way stories explode: people grow taller than the house, chickens lay eggs the size of melons, and reality bends in weird, unexpected ways.
Now, George’s act in this story can be seen from many angles.
It’s dangerous, no doubt. But it’s also bold. Some may call it destructive, others may see it as a form of rebellion. I think George simply took a stance in the most childlike, fantastical way possible. And thankfully, he exists in a fictional universe where his actions are more funny than fatal.
I remember reading this book as a child and being completely sucked into the madness of it. There was something so satisfying about George getting the last word. Not by yelling or fighting back, but by doing something so outrageous that it left everyone else scrambling to catch up. That kind of chaos where a child takes control is a theme that shows up often in Dahl’s work, and it never gets old.
It’s worth noting, though, that George’s Marvellous Medicine isn’t the kind of story I’d hand to a child without a playful warning. Something like: “Please do not try this at home. Results will vary and probably not in your favour.” Because let’s be honest, mixing random chemicals is not a great idea outside the pages of a book.
Still, the charm of the story isn’t in the medicine, it’s in the mischief. It’s the way Dahl gives power to a child who feels powerless. It’s the dark humour, the unapologetic tone, and the way the story embraces being absolutely ridiculous.
Dahl doesn’t tiptoe around consequences. He just creates a world where logic takes a backseat, and imagination drives the car, usually off a cliff, but in the best way.
Another reason I love this book is because of the language. Dahl’s writing is sharp, exaggerated, and full of energy. His characters don’t speak, they snap. They sneer. They yell in bold fonts. Everything is larger than life, and you can almost hear the narration in a storyteller’s voice, reading it out loud to a room full of giggling kids.
And then there’s Grandma. She might be one of Dahl’s most extreme characters. She’s bitter, rude, and deeply unpleasant, but somehow, she’s also hilarious. You can’t help but picture her sitting stiffly in her chair, barking orders at everyone around her.
She’s a perfect example of how Dahl turns adult figures into either saviours (Miss Honey) or villains (Miss Trunchbull, The Witches, and now, Grandma). There’s rarely an in-between.
In the end, the story finds a strange sort of resolution. Not everything is solved, and not everything goes back to normal. But in Dahl’s world, that’s okay. Normal is boring anyway.
Of all Roald Dahl’s books, George’s Marvellous Medicine is the one that feels the most reckless. It’s short, snappy, and full of childish rebellion. And that’s what makes it so delightful.
It’s a book that reminds you how powerful imagination can be, even if it’s being used to turn your grandmother into a skyscraper.
Would I recommend it? Yes, with the obvious disclaimer that fiction is fiction, and science experiments should stay in science class. But if you’re looking for something playful, unfiltered, and delightfully odd, this book might just be your next favorite.
Image is not mine.
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