Let’s be real for a second. If you grew up with Roald Dahl, you probably remember the Centipede from James and the Giant Peach as the guy who just wouldn't shut up. He’s brash. He’s loud. He’s obsessed with his boots. In a group of giant insects that includes a motherly Ladybug and a pessimistic Earthworm, the Centipede is the chaos agent.
But here’s the thing people miss about Centipede in James and the Giant Peach. He isn’t just comic relief. He is the engine of the story. Without his ego and his constant need for attention, James Henry Trotter would probably still be shivering in that hollowed-out fruit. Dahl used this character to bridge the gap between James’s traumatic past with Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker and the weird, terrifyingly beautiful world of the unknown. He's the guy who pushes the boundaries, even when it’s annoying. Especially when it’s annoying.
Why the Centipede Is More Than Just a Bug with Shoes
Most people recall the 1996 Henry Selick film where Richard Dreyfuss voiced him with a gritty, Brooklyn-esque swagger. That version of the Centipede was a bit of a gambler, a fast-talker who hiddenly cared way more than he let on. But if we go back to the 1961 book, Dahl wrote him with a different kind of edge. He was a "rascal," a word Dahl loved. The Centipede’s defining trait isn't his legs—it’s his defiance.
Think about the first time James meets him. The boy is terrified. He’s crawled through a sticky tunnel into a giant peach and finds a group of oversized creatures staring at him. The Centipede is the one who breaks the tension. He demands James help him take off his boots. It’s such a mundane, human task that it strips away the horror of the situation.
- He has 42 legs (though he claims 100).
- He’s a self-proclaimed "pest."
- He hates Earthworms.
- He loves to sing.
Seriously, the singing. Dahl’s books are famous for their verses, and the Centipede gets some of the best lines. He uses his songs to explain the world, or at least his version of it. It’s a classic Dahl trope: the loudest person in the room is often masking a lot of history.
The Relationship Between James and the Centipede
James starts the book as a victim of extreme child abuse. Let’s not sugarcoat it. His parents were eaten by a rhinoceros, and his aunts treated him like a slave. When he meets the Centipede in James and the Giant Peach, he meets someone who treats him like an equal—or at least, like a useful assistant.
This is a huge turning point for James’s psyche. The Centipede doesn't pity him. He doesn't look at James as a "poor little boy." He looks at him as a teammate. When the peach starts rolling, and when they’re floating in the middle of the Atlantic, the Centipede’s bravado gives James a framework for courage.
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There’s this specific moment in the book involving the Cloud-Men. It’s one of the trippier parts of the story that the movie actually captured pretty well. The Centipede starts insulting these massive, ethereal beings. He calls them "ninnies" and "half-wits." It’s incredibly stupid. It gets them all showered in hail and nearly killed. But it also forces James to become the leader. James has to come up with the plan to save them because the Centipede’s big mouth got them into trouble.
You could argue the Centipede is the catalyst for James's growth. By being the "problem child" of the group, he forces James to stop being the "victim child."
Fact-Checking the "100 Legs" Myth
Okay, let’s get technical because Dahl actually cared about this stuff. In the book, the Centipede is constantly bragging about his hundred legs. The Earthworm, who is the resident killjoy, constantly corrects him.
"I am a centipede!"
"You are a pest," the Earthworm whispered.
"I have a hundred legs!"
"You have only forty-two," the Earthworm said.
Biologically, most centipedes have an odd number of pairs of legs, ranging from 15 to 191 pairs. So, having exactly 42 legs (21 pairs) is actually scientifically plausible for certain species like those in the Lithobiomorpha order. Dahl wasn't just pulling numbers out of a hat; he was leaning into the irony that the Centipede’s identity is built on a lie he’s told so often he believes it.
The Visual Evolution: From Quentin Blake to Disney
Visualizing the Centipede in James and the Giant Peach has always been a challenge for illustrators. Nancy Ekholm Burkert’s original 1961 illustrations gave him a more literal, insectoid look—spindly, slightly unsettling, but regal in a weird way.
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Then came Quentin Blake. Blake’s illustrations are the "official" look for most Dahl fans. His Centipede is all frantic energy. He looks like he’s vibrating. His many legs are often drawn as just a blur of movement, which perfectly matches his personality.
Then, of course, the 1996 stop-motion film changed everything. This version gave him a leather jacket and a cigar-chomping attitude. It leaned into the "tough guy" persona. This is the version most Millennials and Gen Z-ers think of. He’s no longer just a bug; he’s a character from a 1940s noir film who happens to have dozens of feet. It worked because it gave James a father figure who was flawed. Not a "perfect" dad, but a guy who would fight for him.
Why We Need Characters Like the Centipede Today
In modern children’s literature, characters are often very "safe." They have clear moral compasses. They’re kind. They’re helpful.
The Centipede is none of those things initially. He’s selfish. He’s vain. He’s incredibly rude to the Earthworm. But he’s also fiercely loyal. When the peach is attacked by sharks, he doesn't run away. He helps James secure the silkworm and the spider threads to harness the seagulls.
He represents the "difficult" friend. We all have one. The person who is a nightmare to take to a restaurant but the first person you call when your car breaks down at 3:00 AM.
The Centipede in James and the Giant Peach teaches kids that personality flaws don't make you a villain. You can be annoying and still be a hero. You can be a liar about how many legs you have and still be the person who holds the rope when the seagulls are lifting the peach into the sky.
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The Darker Side of the Centipede’s Story
Dahl never shied away from the macabre. In the book, the Centipede almost dies several times, and not in a "cartoonish" way. When he falls off the peach into the ocean, there is a genuine sense of panic.
But the most interesting bit of trivia is how the Centipede’s story ends. After the peach impales itself on the Empire State Building (spoiler alert for a 60-year-old book), the characters all find success in New York.
What happens to the Centipede? He becomes a high-level executive. Specifically, he becomes the Vice-President-in-Charge-of-Sales of a high-class boot-and-shoe manufacturer. It’s the perfect ending. He turned his obsession with his own feet into a corporate empire. It’s a very "American Dream" conclusion for a British bug.
Final Insights for the Roald Dahl Fan
If you're revisiting James and the Giant Peach, or introducing it to a new generation, don't just look at the Centipede as the funny sidekick. He’s the bridge between James’s old life of silence and his new life of adventure.
To get the most out of the story, pay attention to the dialogue between the Centipede and the Earthworm. It’s basically a vaudeville routine. Their bickering represents the two sides of anxiety: the Earthworm is the "what if everything goes wrong?" side, and the Centipede is the "I don't care, look how cool I am!" side.
Actionable Steps for Readers and Educators:
- Compare the Mediums: Read Chapter 10 of the book and then watch the scene where James first enters the peach. Note how the Centipede’s tone changes from "entitled" to "welcoming." It’s a masterclass in character introduction.
- Analyze the Poetry: Look at the Centipede’s song about the things he’s seen. It contains some of Dahl’s most vivid imagery (like "the dragon-fly's wing" and "the moon-flower's scent"). It’s a great way to teach children about descriptive adjectives.
- Identify the "Rascal" Archetype: Use the Centipede to discuss how "flawed" characters are often more relatable than "perfect" ones. Ask why James trusts the Centipede even though the Centipede is often wrong.
- Biological Exploration: Look up the difference between a centipede and a millipede. The Centipede in the book is very offended at being called a millipede—find out why (hint: it’s about the legs per segment).
The Centipede is loud. He’s messy. He’s probably wearing 21 pairs of very expensive boots right now. But he is the heartbeat of the peach. Without him, the journey would have been a lot quieter, and a lot less interesting. Next time you see a bug in your garden, maybe don't squash it. It might just be waiting for a giant fruit to roll by.