If I could give this six stars I absolutely would! This has got to be one of the most clever children's books out there! I've read this three times now and still laugh on every page - yes, *every* page!

Juster's wit, use of popular sayings and concepts, and his play on words is phenomenally conceived and perfectly executed! Here's an excerpt:

"Now will you tell me where we are?" asked Tock as he looked around the desolate island.
"To be sure," said Canby; "you're on the Island of Conclusions. Make yourself at home. You're apt to be here for some time."
"But how did we get here?" asked Milo, who was still a bit puzzled by being there at all.
"You jumped, of course," explained Canby. "That's the way most everyone gets here. It's really quite simple: every time you decide something without having a good reason, you jump to Conclusions whether you like it or not. It's such an easy trip to make that I've been here hundreds of times."

This would be a great family read-aloud!

Ages: 5/6+

Cleanliness:
Children's Bad Words
Mild Obscenities & Substitutions - 1 Incident: stupid
Religious Profanities - 2 Incidents: my goodness
Scatological Terms - 1 Incident: bl**dy

Religious & Supernatural - 1 Incident: There are "demons" in this story. Really, they are bad character traits that have been personified, such as Threadbare Excuse and Gross Exaggeration.

Romance Related - 1 Incident: The words "breast pocket" are used.

Parent Takeaway
This is a story about a boy that is completely unmotivated about learning, activities, ... everything really. But one day, he receives a mysterious box and his life suddenly changes - and he realizes just how fun and full learning, and knowledge, and life can be. Full of satire, play on words, riddles and adventure, this is one of the best family read-alouds of all time.

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I am a reader, and I measure my life in books, and the ones that I read in my very early years were probably the most formative. You can learn a lot about a person by what their childhood was like- whether they played outside all the time or preferred to stay indoors, whether they read or didn't, whether they drew or played sports or learned instruments and languages.

I, for one, loved words. I read many books with large words in them, and so I was always asking my mother what they meant, or looking them up in the dictionary, or trying to just guess. I loved long words, short words, words that were fun to say. I would spell them, write them down, sometimes just say them aloud in strings of total gibberish. Even as a child, I remember being amazed that I could make sounds with my mouth that other people could recognise and understand. The idea that I could say the word "apple," which really is an odd word when you look at it long enough, and that somebody else would know exactly what I was referring to was thrilling.

I used to play a word association game I made up where I would think of a word, then think of a word associated with that word, then a word associated with that word, and on and on until I either tried to get back to the word I started with or tried to see how far I could deviate from my original word. So a game might start with the word "pencil" and go from there to "paper," "bag," "rag," "towel," "trowel," "garden," "green," "leaf," "tree," "wood," "paper." Or I might start with "pencil" and go to "lead," "bed," "jumping," "kangaroo," "pouch," "couch," "sofa," "soda," "bubbles." This all took place in my brain, and sometimes I'd just sit in my room for hours and do this. (I would be lying if I said I didn't still do it occasionally.)

I loved books, too. I loved the idea that somebody could put words down on paper and that I could create a world in my mind based off of those words. From a young age, I followed characters, tried to predict plots, and lived in that lovely world somewhere between reality and imagination that we call literature.

All of this boils down to the fact that, to me, language was a playground. I'd make up words, speak backwards, sometimes go whole stretches of time just spelling out words instead of speaking, like "H-E-L-L-O (space) M-O-M (comma) H-O-W (space) A-R-E (space) Y-O-U (space) D-O-I-N-G (question mark)?" Punctuation, spelling, even fonts and typeface and foreign languages- everything related to words was something I was fond of.

And it all started with The Phantom Tollbooth.

Well, not exactly. I'd been doing a lot of this stuff even before I read the book, but The Phantom Tollbooth really helped to make these qualities stick with me.

Why? Because I felt the way I do whenever I find a great book: that I'm not alone. Norton Juster, through wordplay and illustrations and wit, showed me that language, and, to an even greater extent, knowledge, was a wonderful thing. As I read this book and travelled among the Whether Man, Princess Rhyme and Princess Reason, the Mathemagician, and King Azaz the Unabridged, as I read riddles and jokes and equations and utter nonsense and wise advice and snatches of song, as I ventured with Milo and Tock into the Doldrums and the Lands Beyond, to Dictionopolis and Digitopolis and up over the Mountains of Ignorance, I recognised myself in all of these things, and each one of them told me that I wasn't weird for loving language and reading compulsively and making up words and collecting utterly useless facts. Or more accurately, they told me that I was weird- but that there aren't enough weird people in the world who commit themselves to these things, so it was okay.

You can learn a lot about a person based on the books on their bookshelf: whether they're pristine or worn, whether they're organised or not, whether they've got notes written in the margins or flowers pressed between the covers or the signatures of authors. And if you were to look at my pitifully small bookshelf (the rest of my books reside in two enormous stacks by my bed), you would find a worn, torn, stained, and utterly beloved copy of The Phantom Tollbooth. And perhaps you would be able to tell, just by looking at it, that it taught me one of the most important lessons I've learned: that imagination is a beautiful thing, and even if you think that you're too old for things like word games and math equations and fun facts and puns and stories- things, in short, that bring you knowledge and delight, even if you think you've outgrown them... Deep down, they will never outgrow you.

When he left the Navy, Norton Juster began writing a non-fiction book about urban planning. As an outlet from the grueling work, though, he spent his free time concocting the imaginative scenes that later became The Phantom Tollbooth. One publisher’s advance later, he gave up on the scholarly work and finished The Phantom Tollbooth instead. And we’re all better off for it.

Part Alice in Wonderland, part secular Pilgrim’s Progress, The Phantom Tollbooth takes ten year-old Milo on a journey out of boredom and into a wild world of Watchdogs (dogs made from big watches), the Mathemagician (who rules over the city Digitopolis), King Azaz the Unabridged (who rules over Dictionopolis), and creatures like the Awful Dynne, who collects the noisy sounds of the world, and the Lethargarians, who sit around and do nothing all day.

It’s a bright adventure into the creative possibilities of the mind. In Dictionopolis and Digitopolis Milo discovers the value of words and numbers; on the Mountain of Ignorance he learns that knowledge can fight off inattention and indulgence; in the Doldrums, he avoids ennui by thinking; and through it all, he discovers that a little attention reveals wondrous details in everything around him. All told it’s an episodic allegory that feels like the whole wonder of grade school in a few hundred pages.

But the real pleasure of it is the whip-smart wordplay. We barely catch it as children, but Juster’s physical representations of intangible things—like the very short Officer Shrift, who arrests people without giving them a chance—introduce young readers to multiple layers of meaning. And as adults, there’s a laugh, a groan, or a tickled “huh!” in every paragraph.

The Phantom Tollbooth isn’t perfect, however. The opening chapters are electric with wit, but the mystery and momentum of the early pages fade into a string of sometimes cumbersomely connected scenes, as if Juster’s clever ideas were simply lined up in a row. And, not all puns are created equal. (Still, they're puns, and we have to love them).

But these are tiny complaints. Every child should read The Phantom Tollbooth; it’s a bit of a lesson book on how to live. In the interview at the end of the audiobook (read by David Hyde Pierce), Juster says that many of the demons in the story—like the terrible Trivium, who waylays us with inane tasks—reflect the challenges that he struggles with in his writing. And if we all do as well as Milo does, then we’ll surely live happier, fuller lives.

Do I recommend it? Yes. Read it at different times over the course of your life. You’ll notice different things.
Would I teach it? It would be fun. It’s young in spirit, and it might serve as fresh contrast to texts exploring allegory or the image of the road.
Lasting impressions: I first read The Phantom Tollbooth in the third grade, and though I only remembered excerpts from it before revisiting it recently, looking back at it now, I wonder if it was the most formative experience of my childhood.

If I had to choose between reading this entire book or eating it...I'd ask whether I can prepare the pages in a way of my choosing. I think you could fold a book into some pulled pork and probably be okay. Maybe chili? And even if it was just straight up eating, I think I'd get through it faster with my mouth than my eyes.

This is painful to read. Like REALLY painful. Everything in it is so clever that it's a little gross. It's so cute. Like wouldn't it be funny if a watchdog was a dog with a watch embedded in it? And not in a Cronenburg way, in like a cute way? And then EVERYTHING in the book works that way. It's like Milo traveled to the land of Dad Jokes and instead of being a struggle for survival, it's just a wacky experience. In a real road trip through the land of Dad Jokes, you'd spend all your time trying to get that little go-kart up to speed so you could throw yourself out and die, bludgeoned by literal "bumps in the road," or maybe you could find a "fork in the road" and stab your eyes out.

This might be an adult critiquing a book for which he's not the audience, but I dunno. I think this book is one of those books that adults like way more than kids. Like Fantasia or something.

Anyway, skip this one unless you have special goggles for safety. I need to see my eye doctor because my eyes were rolling so hard.

It's been a long time since I first read this book, but it's still as good as ever, with its witty and delightful wordplay and paradoxes, and the transformation of Milo from a boy who is bored with everything to one who is curious, observant, thoughtful, and eager to learn. It's a fun, imaginative fantasy for all ages.

Apparently a classic in the US; I wanted to read it because I vaguely remembered snippets of it - I think I must have read it at a library or the like.

In the end, I could see why it might be loved by some children - those fascinated by language, in particular. And why, with its combination of whimsy and morality, it might be a subject of nostalgia among adults, even among those who may not have loved it as much as they remember in childhood.

Because I can also see why I didn't love it - why I vaguely remembered it, fondly, but never had my own copy, never even remembered the name or the author until my memory was jogged. An 'Alice' for the modern world, it's less strange and more superficial than Carroll's work: essentially it's a moral-political treatise (the modern non-spiritual world is filled with nonsense and chaos because we have lost our sense of Rhyme and Reason, which must be restored to bring about a spiritual reawakening of modern America, as we each improve ourselves, transforming ourselves into a heroic ideal of Manhood in much the same way that children themselves must grow up; also, it's all the fault of science and immigrants), liberally sweetened with continual puns. Some of them are quite clever puns, and the Moral Message is less aggressive and more heartwarmingly, platitudinously encouraging (and safely vague and non-specific) when taken over the course of a novel than when reduced in summary. But...

I'm not really sure who the book is for. Young children who are not obsessed with language will probably find the continual wordplay going over their head, and the Message a tad too subtle to spot. Adults who appreciate the Message and understand the jokes (if that's what we're to call them) are likely to be left unsatisfied by the superficiality, and lack of plot or pacing, and the lack even by the standards of children's novels of any sort of characterisation.

Apparently the book was written to appeal to nostalgia, and that might be its niche: those who want to immerse themselves in a nostalgic romance of Lost Childhood - particular those for whom that childhood once included this book. Perhaps it's a book that children are encouraged to read so that they can feel nostalgic about it later...


Slightly more extensive review over on my blog.

First read in 2003: This book knocked my socks off!

I didn't read it as a child, and for years my son has been recommending it to me.

Incredibly fun read. Highly recommended.


January 2011: A reread, a happy reread. You must bear in mind that I adore silly wordplay and this book is the King of Silly Wordplay.

Norton Juster's The Phantom Tollbooth made me happy. I loved the puns and playfulness. Even a dumb kid like me could appreciate the cool jokes. It's the language of words and numbers in a place that you can actually reach. Not "Learning is fun!" propaganda but "Hurry up, slow poke!" adventure stories in the vein of all the best ones. It's good for you.

I loved that Milo wanted to be away when he was home and away when he was home. No phantom tollbooth ever appeared to take me away (at least that wasn't in this book). I'd probably have gone on the adventure and then pined the rest of my days for another one... I was really good at missing the point of these kinds of stories. Have fun at home? Make friends at home? But I missed *those* friends!

In my lower self-esteem moments I'll still identify with The Terrible Trivium. I'm probably weird...

p.s. They made us watch the cartoon in elementary school. I started my infamous "1970s cartoon walk" in part because of this. Too bad it wasn't actually from the '70s. I suck.

P.s.s. And I never tagged this under "dogs" ("myonlyfriend", duh!). I really do suck. I'm sorry, Tock!

Illustrations by Jules Feiffer

From the book jacket - Through the Phantom Tollbooth lies a strange land and a series of even stranger adventures in which Milo meets some of the most logically illogical characters ever met on this side or that side of reality, including King Azaz the Unabridged, unhappy ruler of Dictionopolis; the Mathemagician; Faintly Macabre, the not-so-wicked Which; and the watchdog Tock, who ticks.

My Reactions
I’ve been hearing about this book forever, but never read it before. I’m so glad I finally got to it! It is an absolute delight. I love Milo – a boy “who didn’t know what to do with himself” – and his spirit of adventure. Boredom may have led him to the Doldrums, but his thinking brain gets him through the magical Kingdom of Wisdom, across the Valley of Sound, up the Mountains of Ignorance to the Castle in the Air, to rescue the imprisoned Princesses Rhyme and Reason and return them to the Kingdom.

What I find particularly delightful is the way Juster plays with words and ideas. Introducing readers (young and old) to some lofty ideas and imparting more than a little wisdom along the way. I kept jotting down quotable passages. For example:

”I never knew words could be so confusing,” Milo said to Tock as he bent down to scratch the dog’s ear. “Only when you use a lot to say a little,” answered Tock.

“…that explains why today people use as many words as they can and think themselves very wise for doing so. For always remember that while it is wrong to use too few, it is often far worse to use too many.”

“The most important reason for going from one place to another is to see what’s in between, and [people] took great pleasure in doing just that. Then one day someone discovered that if you walked as fast as possible and looked at nothing but your shoes you would arrive at your destination much more quickly. Soon everyone was doing it. They all rushed down the avenues and hurried along the boulevards seeing nothing of the wonders and beauties of their city as they went.”

“Infinity is a dreadfully poor place. They can never manage to make ends meet.”

Children will enjoy the adventure and fantastical characters, and hardly notice how their vocabularies are expanding. Adults will enjoy it even more for the intelligent use of words. It’s been over fifty years since this book was first published, but I feel certain it will remain popular for at least another fifty years.


* * * * * * * * * *

Re-read 18July15 and found it just as delightful as the first time!

I can see why this has been so popular for so many years.
Highly entertaining! I'm a little disappointed my first experience with this was as an adult.
I think with the whimsy of childhood this would have been even more magical.

I saw "The Phantom Tollbooth" on a list of beloved children's books, and realized I had somehow missed it when I was a kid. I listened to the audio version, narrated by actor Rainn Wilson, and thought it was delightful. The book is filled with clever wordplay and has good advice on the importance of not jumping to conclusions and watching your words (otherwise you may have to eat them!) Highly recommended.

Favorite Quotes
"Everybody is so terribly sensitive about the things they know best."

"The most important reason for going from one place to another is to see what's in between."

"You must never feel badly about making mistakes ... as long as you take the trouble to learn from them. For you often learn more by being wrong for the right reasons than you do by being right for the wrong reasons."

"You may not see it now ... but whatever we learn has a purpose and whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way ... Whenever you laugh, gladness spreads like the ripples in the pond; and whenever you're sad, no one anywhere can be really happy. And it's much the same thing with knowledge, for whenever you learn something new, the whole world becomes that much richer."

"So many things are possible just as long as you don't know they're impossible."

Surprised I haven't rated this before. A big part of my childhood was reading and this book was a favorite