The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
One Book That You Read More Than Once
I can count the number of books I’ve read more than once on one hand. The last time I can remember rereading a book on purpose was in high school, when my friends and I were crazy about Richard Bach, Robert Fulghum, and Jude Deveraux. I specify “on purpose” because I did recently reread half of Ian McEwan’s Atonement before realizing that the déjà vu was due to the fact that I had read it before. I had forgotten entirely, and the whole thing was only vaguely familiar. Still, I dropped it like a hot potato.
Now that I think about it, there is something almost compulsive about my refusal to read books more than once. I have a notoriously bad memory and after a few months I completely forget the details of almost all the books I read—including my favorites. Yet I still will not reread them.
I wish I was more of a re-reader. From what I’ve heard, people who reread their favorite books seem to have a much closer relationship with them. They often describe their books as “old friends.” I love my books—all of my many, many books—but we just don’t talk anymore. It's like we've drifted apart. I would love to find something new in each rereading or see myself reflected differently in them as I change.
The closest I have ever come to this long-term-evolution-of-a-book relationship was with the children’s novel, The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. It was one of my favorite books growing up. I loved the tollbooth that transported Milo to such wonderful lands as Dictionopolis and Digitopolis. I loved the wordplay and the crazy pun-ridden characters that filled the pages: Tock the watchdog, the Princesses Rhyme and Reason, and the island called Conclusions, which can only be accessed by jumping.
Of course, I had only read The Phantom Tollbooth once—until I was in college and I took a liking to a certain young man, N. I noticed that N had, on his dorm room bookshelf, a copy of The Phantom Tollbooth. It must have been fate! When I told him that I, too, had loved that book as a kid, he offered to read it aloud to me. Complete with voices, he advertised.
So every evening for three weeks, we would curl up on the sofa in his dorm room and he would read a chapter, complete with voices. I will readily admit that reading a children’s book had the added benefit of spending a lot of time with him, but there is something about a book read aloud that warms the heart and brings people closer together. I’m sure that was his plan.
N and I broke up long ago, but we are still good friends. Good thing too—I am glad I can still look back at that time and think of The Phantom Tollbooth with the fondest of memories.
tags: children's books book reviews read aloud Dictionopolis Digitopolis Norton Juster
I can count the number of books I’ve read more than once on one hand. The last time I can remember rereading a book on purpose was in high school, when my friends and I were crazy about Richard Bach, Robert Fulghum, and Jude Deveraux. I specify “on purpose” because I did recently reread half of Ian McEwan’s Atonement before realizing that the déjà vu was due to the fact that I had read it before. I had forgotten entirely, and the whole thing was only vaguely familiar. Still, I dropped it like a hot potato.Now that I think about it, there is something almost compulsive about my refusal to read books more than once. I have a notoriously bad memory and after a few months I completely forget the details of almost all the books I read—including my favorites. Yet I still will not reread them.
I wish I was more of a re-reader. From what I’ve heard, people who reread their favorite books seem to have a much closer relationship with them. They often describe their books as “old friends.” I love my books—all of my many, many books—but we just don’t talk anymore. It's like we've drifted apart. I would love to find something new in each rereading or see myself reflected differently in them as I change.
The closest I have ever come to this long-term-evolution-of-a-book relationship was with the children’s novel, The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster. It was one of my favorite books growing up. I loved the tollbooth that transported Milo to such wonderful lands as Dictionopolis and Digitopolis. I loved the wordplay and the crazy pun-ridden characters that filled the pages: Tock the watchdog, the Princesses Rhyme and Reason, and the island called Conclusions, which can only be accessed by jumping.
Of course, I had only read The Phantom Tollbooth once—until I was in college and I took a liking to a certain young man, N. I noticed that N had, on his dorm room bookshelf, a copy of The Phantom Tollbooth. It must have been fate! When I told him that I, too, had loved that book as a kid, he offered to read it aloud to me. Complete with voices, he advertised.
So every evening for three weeks, we would curl up on the sofa in his dorm room and he would read a chapter, complete with voices. I will readily admit that reading a children’s book had the added benefit of spending a lot of time with him, but there is something about a book read aloud that warms the heart and brings people closer together. I’m sure that was his plan.
N and I broke up long ago, but we are still good friends. Good thing too—I am glad I can still look back at that time and think of The Phantom Tollbooth with the fondest of memories.
“RESULTS ARE NOT GUARANTEED, BUT IF NOT PERFECTLY SATISFIED, YOUR WASTED TIME WILL BE REFUNDED.” –tollbooth disclaimerThe Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
tags: children's books book reviews read aloud Dictionopolis Digitopolis Norton Juster
posted by Renee at 9:59 AM
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2 Comments:
Amazingly, I never heard of this book until I read How Reading Changed My Life by Anna Quindlen and she mentioned it in one of her 'top ten' lists. I've added it to my wishlist but still haven't managed to read it.
I rarely reread anything anymore. In my mind, that time could be spent discovering another book.
Great post, by the way!
I often read books to escape my lonely childhood, and was constantly re-visiting those places time and time again with such a loving fondness. Each book was a chance for me to be someone else (I loved reading so much that taking away my books became a punishment in my home).
So when I picked up "Phantom Tollbooth", a story about a bored little boy being transported to another land on a dull, gray day (I live in Portland, land of the grayest of gray days), it felt like I was finally home, and welcomed with open arms.
I will always love this book, and revisit it every so often, though I will admit it has been quite a while.
I have found, though, that re-reading certain books that may have had a profound meaning in your life every few years, has quite an interesting effect. As you grow, learn, and change, how you view each book will morph with you. You may "get" something else from a book you had read when you 15 by re-reading it at age 20 and again at age 30. The relevance of such literary works may be completely nil, or become even more relevant.
Anyways, I suggest re-reading a childhood favorite sometime soon, preferably with a cup of tea (or coco, depending on how nostalgic you wish to be, marshmallows optional).
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