The age-old question asked by shy people, young and old alike: what if nobody turns up?

After turning the final page of The Hedgehog’s Dilemma (Adelphi, translated by Laura Pignatti), it is hard to hold back the emotion. The Dutch children’s author Toon Tellegen has achieved the rare feat of writing a story that speaks with equal intensity to adults and children alike – a standout in a field of children’s literature (and not just children’s literature) that is often caught up in a process of simplification which reduces stories to mere pastimes, such as playing with a toy kitchen or bouncing on the back of a rocking horse. And yet children’s stories can invite us to discover the unknown and our fears in a fun way. When I delve into my childhood memories, the adventures of Ulysses tied to the mast of his ship or striking Polyphemus come to mind, as do the exploits of the Three Musketeers and the terrifying tales of the Tin Soldier or Buchettino (whom I later rediscovered in a splendid production by the Societas Raffaello Sanzio, as an adult but still lying in a cot) Yet what recur most vividly are the images of those books: pages full of letters, indecipherable characters (that is the grown-ups’ role) and small drawings.

The Hedgehog’s Dilemma is structured in the same way and renews our sense of wonder at a children’s story composed primarily of words which, even more so than images, are capable of setting the imagination free and training the mind to embrace surprise and creativity (there is no need to consult the Talmud, but the learned sages of Judaism used to say that ‘all songs are written in black on white and white on black’). Tellegen’s tale captivates not only because it demonstrates how children’s literature can also speak to adults, but also for its tender narrative, which revolves around shyness and the compromises one is forced to make with oneself in order to become an integral part of a community.

The hedgehog of the title, in fact – so shy that he often doesn’t even have the courage to open the door to the few visitors who come to see him – decides to throw a party, but even the invitation is tinged with an ambiguity that reflects his solitary nature (“but if nobody comes, that’s fine too’), a sort of double of the animal in Perec’s The Sleeping Man (though Schopenhauer had already used the hedgehog as a metaphor for the difficulties of human relationships), who finds protection from the outside world in solitude. Centred on this letter – and thus on the dilemma of whether to put himself out there in front of others by overcoming his fear – the hedgehog’s imagination begins to dwell on the mishaps and failures that could ruin a party (the absence of guests, the lack of conversation, the risk posed by its quills), but also about how lovely it might be to have an elephant, an ostrich, a badger or a camel around. Tellegen, aided by Annemarie van Hareingen’s quirky and comical illustrations, has written a fairy tale in which young children are introduced to the unknown and the fear of being alone, whilst older readers will find in the hedgehog’s soliloquies a question about how much closing oneself off from others hinders one’s place in the world.

Now that I am a father and read stories to my child, I have realised that this exercise in imagination is gradually disappearing from many of the books we leaf through together; the narratives are simplified and the messages conveyed in a cloyingly didactic manner, to the extent that it feels as though we are witnessing the very same process of constant streamlining that dominates contemporary society; as if young children were meant to be accustomed, right from the start, to not seeking wonder and amazement. Fortunately, however, there are books like The Hedgehog’s Dilemma, which I am now going to start reading to my son again, confident that I will be moved all over again (without letting on too much).