Man from the south door Roald Dahl

Title

Man from the South

Writer

Dahl, Roald

Place of story

Jamaica

Genre

horror story

Main characters

Carlos and a soldier

Particularity

story is told by a narrator

Summary

The story is about a strange bet: when the (poor) soldier can light his lighter ten times running then Carlos will give him his Cadillac. If the soldier does not succeed in doing that, then he will loose his little finger. Preparations are made: the soldier's hand is tied to the table, chopping knife is held ready, the narrator is the referee and a girl is watcher. The bet can begin. When the lighter is lit for the eight time a woman rushes in. She says Carlos does not own anything. She won it all from him. So also the car is hers, and not Carlos'. When she puts out a hand to fetch the car key the narrator notices it has only one finger and a thumb.

About the title

I don't find the title is well chosen: it has nothing to do with the content of the story. Perhaps a better title would be "A strangerous bet'. Strangerous is an own made word of me that is a combination of strange and dangerous.

My personal opinion

I found this story kind of boring. In this story Roald Dahl goes sometimes too much in the subject. At that kind of moments I get uninterested and don't like the story anymore. Also the bad chosen title is a factor that makes me dislike this story. The first story that we read -Lamb to the slaughter- was far more interesting and had a better title. What I want to say with that is that when you have finished the story, you've got something (a reason) to still think about the story, because the title makes the story even more fascinating. With this one I really haven't got that feeling. So it's less more astrictive to read. Too bad…

Optional assignment

a diary entry out of the diary of Carlos

Monday, September 7th

Dear Diary,
Today I found someone that want to do my famous bet with me. Oh man, what a sucker. As you know I am now on Jamaica and in the pool of the hotel there was a soldier that said he could always light his lighter. So I invited him, and a man next to man (as a referee) to my room, and tied his hand on the table. This time I bet a car again. I asked the girl from room service to get me the usual stuff (usual to me) and I already stood ready with my chopping knife. But dammed, when the soldier had just lit his lighter for the eight time, Angela came into the room and prevented me from finishing the game. She blabbed it all by telling that I don't own anything no more by winning all my possessions from me. But there's one comfort: she may have won everything from me, but I still got the things I won from her in my pocket…