Why are today’s children’s books and films often so much better than adult ones?

It’s not simply that kids’ culture has improved since I was young. Across stage, screen and cinema, grownup offerings pale in comparison to those aimed at my son

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orld Book Day dawns once more, with its morning chorus of swearing and sticky tape. This year, it falls shortly before we’re throwing a Harry Potter birthday party, so the living room has already surrendered to chocolate frogs and wand clay and preparations for the Dobby Sock Toss. Good timing, then. If you’ve already made a Nagini piñata, what’s one more hippogriff for the list?

Is competitive cosplay the best way to foster a love of literature in young people? That’s for finer minds than mine to debate, but with books like these, I’m surprised it’s required. What a time to have recently mastered phonics. What reluctant reader could fail to laugh at Mr Gum, or indeed anything by Andy Stanton? Who wouldn’t be thrilled by Louis Sachar or Lottie Brooks or Malorie Blackman?

My son is now on his 10th listen of the Potter audiobooks (the Stephen Fry ones). Those stories are – I’m sorry and elated and braced for impact to say – much better than those I was reading when I was eight. By which I mean Enid Blyton, but also perhaps Judy Blume and Anthony “Jennings” Buckeridge, and including – yikes – some of Roald Dahl and – double yikes – a lot of CS Lewis, even those Narnia cassettes read by Michael Hordern.