Mara Wilson: Matilda and Me at 30

I cant remember my life before her.

She was “born” the year after I was—1988—but in many ways, shes been like a big sister: someone I have admired, someone I have aspired to be like, and at times, someone I have resented. On some level, shes an archetype, beloved and widely appreciated. On another, I feel as if we have a unique connection—that I am one of the privileged few who really understands her.

She is, of course, Matilda Wormwood, from the novel Matilda.

Childhood can be a dark and scary time, and no one knew that better than Matildas creator, Roald Dahl. He could be a bit of a curmudgeon, and was never shy in his books about denouncing the things he disliked, from animal abuse to chewing gum. Matilda, I believe, displays what he considered to be the best virtues: a love of learning and an innate sense of justice, courage, warmth, and a dry wit. Shes thoughtful and self-confident, but never obsessive or conceited. She is extraordinary, but never elitist. Shes perfect.

If we count the book as her birthdate, she would be 30 years old this autumn. But in the book, as well as the film and musical based on the novel, shes forever a child. For a long time, it was hard for me to imagine what she would be like as an adult. How could someone so self-actualized, who had learned and done so much as a child, ever really grow up? Would she continue to inspire others, the way the book and film about her continue to do? What do you do when youve read every book in the library and banished a tyrant by age seven?

“Hey, Matilda! Show us your magic powers!”

From elementary school to college, I heard that at least once a week. Even now, when people approach me about Matilda—the 1996 film in which I played the title role—they always want to know more about her magic powers. Hundreds have told me that after seeing the movie, they tried to move glasses or slam doors using their mind. Theyve asked me if I did that, too. No, I always want to say, of course not. I saw how the magic was actually done—though special effects are magical, in their own Arthur C. Clarke-ian way.

I suppose I cant blame them for asking. The powers—or “miracles,” as theyre called in the book—make for some of the most exciting parts of Matilda. Who doesnt want to see a levitating piece of chalk write a ghostly message, or a television explode? Still, Ive been frustrated by it, because I believe theyre missing the point: Matildas story is allegorical. Reading and education do give you powers, just not necessarily telepathic ones.

And anyway, Im partial to Matildas pre-powers pranks—the hat, the hair dye—which prove she is more than capable of getting revenge simply by being clever. In any case, her powers arent the most important part of the story: in the film, she ultimately decides not to use them. In the musical, her telekinetic powers dont even appear until well into the second act. In the book, the powers disappear after she is skipped ahead in school, and Miss Honey hypothesizes that she is using so much brain power that her telekinetic abilities have disappeared. She also doesnt have the same repressed anger she had living with her parents, the anger that fueled her passion to set things right.

This isnt to say that Matilda grew up to be complacent. Would she be an activist as an adult? Undoubtedly. But I cant see her being the face of any movement; shes not the type to seek glory, but rather someone who just does what she believes is right. If anything, she prefers to work quietly, without drawing any attention to herself. One can get away with so much more that way.

I wonder if, like me, Matilda ever felt trapped by her past. I wonder if she ever felt like she was lost or floundering, like I did in my teens and early 20s. She has known what it is to be a hero, a prodigy, a genius. How many children labeled “gifted” suffer when they grow up? I dont like to think of her in despair; she had enough of that in her life as a child. I would like to think—as idealistic as it may seem—that she didnt let her past heroism define the rest of her life. She knew what mattered was not the labels, but the learning.

Academia must have called to her. Matilda, I fully believe, has the wits and work ethic to have gotten into any university she wanted and studied whatever she liked. I have no doubt that she would have several degrees. I imagine she would tire of Oxbridge or Ivy League elitism, however: academia can be stifling, competitive, unjust, all the things she always hated. Besides, Matilda is a polymath, and polymaths dont tend to stick to one specialty. Major corporations and governments must have been knocking down her door, but I cant see her working with them, at least not for long; her anti-authoritarian streak runs too deep.

There really is only one conclusion to which I can come: she must have gone back to the place where her love of learning began.

“So, how many of you are librarians?”

Every time I do a show or a reading, I ask this question, and every time, dozens of hands go up. It doesnt surprise me to know that so many Matilda fans gravitated to education, and to libraries in particular. They are safe places to congregate, to learn whatever one wants. Activists love them, children love them, and people who dont have safe homes need them. Matilda was all three.

While she would have made an excellent teacher, I believe that ultimately, she wouldnt have become one. Being the center of attention, having 20 pairs of eyes on her, isnt Matildas style, and one can only imagine she has some radical ideas that would not sit well with school boards and P.T.A.s. And while Miss Honey is her family, the librarian, Miss Phelps, was her first hero. Librarians have a special power, knowing they are opening doors to other worlds when they hand someone a book. Its something Dahl knew, and something I believe Danny DeVito, Robin Swicord, and Nicholas Kazan understood when they made the film version of Matilda—which ends with Matilda reading Moby Dick to Miss Honey.

Perhaps Matilda even became a childrens librarian. She learned long ago that adults can be just as scared and ignorant as children, but that adults also have powers, simply because theyre grown up. I think Matilda is happy to be an adult, to use these powers for good. When I was a child, deeply immersed in the grown-up world on film sets, I made a pact with myself to become the kind of adult who respects children. I believe Matilda must have made this pact with herself, too.

Thats why I see her the way I do: as everyones favorite librarian at the Phelps Memorial Library, always ready with a copy of Moby Dick or A Tale of Two Cities. Telling patrons that N.K. Jemisins books are as good as everyone says, and that War and Peace is nowhere near as intimidating as it seems. Sharing a book with a six-and-a-half-year-old girl and promising her that she is appreciated, that she can grow up to be herself. Shell smile at you even if you interrupt her reading, and shes always warm and friendly. Like the perfect big sister.

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