CHAPTER ONE : MILO

THERE WAS ONCE A BOY NAMED MILO,

who didn't know what to

do with himself- not just sometimes, but always.

When he was in school he longed to be out, and when he

was out he longed to be in. On the way he thought about

coming home, and coming home he thought about going.

Wherever he was he wished he was somewhere else, and when

he got there he wondered why he'd bothered. Nothing really

interested him - least of all the things that should have.

"It seems to me that almost everything is a waste of time,"

he remarked one day as he walked dejectedly home from

school. "I can't see the point in learning to solve useless

problems, or subtracting turnips from turnips, or knowing

where Ethiopia is, or how to spell February." And, since no one

bothered to explain otherwise, he regarded the process of

seeking knowledge as the greatest waste of time of all. As he and his unhappy thoughts hurried along (for while he

was never anxious to be where he was going, he liked to get there

as quickly as possible), it seemed a great wonder that the world,

which was so large, could sometimes feel so small and empty.

"And worst of all," he continued sadly, "there's nothing for

me to do, nowhere I'd care to go, and hardly anything worth

seeing." He punctuated this last thought with such a deep sigh

that a house sparrow singing nearby stopped and rushed home

to be with his family.

Without stopping or looking up, he rushed past the buildings

and busy shops that lined the street and in a few minutes reached

home - dashed through the hall hopped into the lift

- one,

two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and off again opened the

door of the flat – rushed into his room - flopped dejectedly into

a chair, and grumbled softly, "Another long afternoon."

He look glumly at all the things he owned. The books that

were too much trouble to read, the tools he'd never learned to

use, the small electric car he hadn't driven for months - or was it years? and the hundreds of other games toys, and bat and ball, and bits and pieces scattered around him. And then,

on the far side of the room, he noticed something he had

certainly never seen before.

Who could possibly have left such an enormous package

and such a strange one? For, while it was not quite square, it was

definitely not round, and it was larger than almost any other big

package he'd ever seen. Attached to one side was a bright-blue envelope which said

simply: FOR MILO, WHO HAS PLENTY OF TIME.

Of course, if you've ever received a surprise package, you can

imagine how puzzled and excited Milo was; and if you've never

received one, pay close attention, because some day you might.

"I don't think it's my birthday," he puzzled, "and Christmas

must be months away, and I haven't been outstandingly good,

or even good at all." (He had to admit this, even to himself.)

"Probably I won't like it anyway, but since I don't know where

it came from, I can't possibly send it back." He thought about

it for quite a while and then opened the envelope, but just to

be polite. ONE GENUINE TURNPIKE TOLLBOOTH it stated- and

then it went on:

EASILY ASSEMBLED AT HOME, AND FOR USE BY THOSE WHO

HAVE NEVER TRAVELLED IN LANDS BEYOND.

"Beyond what?" thought Milo as he continued to read.

THIS PACKAGE CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING ITEMS:

One (1) genuine turnpike tollbooth to be erected according

to directions.

Three (3) precautionary signs to be used in a precautionary

fashion.

Assorted coins for use in payıng tolls. One (1) map, up-to-date and carefully drawn by master

cartographers, depicting natural and man-made features.

One (1) book of rules and traffic regulations, which may not

be bent or broken.

And in smaller letters at the bottom it concluded

RESULTS ARE NOT GUARANTEED, BUT IF NOT PERFECTLY

SATISFIED, YOUR WASTED TIME WILL BE REFUNDED.

Following the instructions, which told him to cut here, lift

there, and fold back all around, he soon had the tollbooth

unpacked and set up on its stand. He fitted the windows in

place and attached the roof, which extended out on both sades,

and fastened on the coin box. It was very much like the tollbooths he'd seen on tamily trips, except of course it was

much smaller and purple.

"What a strange present," he thought to himself. "The least

they could have done was to send a motorway with it, for it's

terribly impractical without one." But since, at the time, there was

nothing else he wanted to play with, he set up the three

susis

SLOW DOWN APPROACHING TOLLBOOTH

PLEASE HAVE YOUR FARE READY

HAVE YOUR DESTINATION IN MIND

and slowly unfolded the map.

As the announcement stated, it was a beautiful map, in many

colours, showing principal roads, rivers, and seas, towns and

cities, mountains and valleys, intersections and detours, and sites

of outstanding interest both beautiful and historic.

The only trouble was that Milo had never heard of any of

the places it indicated, and even the names sounded most

peculiar.

"I don't think there really is such a country," he concluded after studying it carefully.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway." And he closed his eyes and poked a finger at the map.

"Dictionopolis," read Milo slowly when he saw what his finger had chosen.

"Oh, well, I might as well go there as anywhere."

He walked across the room and dusted the car carefully. Then, taking the map and rule book with him, he hopped in

and, for lack of anything better to do, drove slowly up to the

tollbooth. As he deposited his coin and rolled past, he remarked

wistfully, "I do hope this is an interesting game, otherwise the

afternoon will be so terribly dull."

CHAPTER TWO :BEYOND EXPECTATIONS

Suddenly he found himself speeding along an unfamiliar country road,

and as he looked back over his shoulder, neither in sight. What had started

the tollbooth nor his room nor even the house was anywhere

make-believe was now very real.

What a strange thing to happen," he thought (just as you must be thinking). "This game is much more serious than I thought, for here I am riding on a road I've never seen. going

to a place I've never heard of, and all because of a tollbooth

which came from nowhere. I'm certainly glad that it's a nice

day for a trip." he concluded hopefully, for, at the moment, this

was the one thing he definitely knew.

The sun sparkled, the sky was clear, and all the colours he saw

seemed to be richer and brighter than he could ever remember.

The flowers shone as if they'd been cleaned and polished, and the

tall trees that lined the road shimmered in silvery green. WELCOME TO EXPECTATIONS said a carefully lettered sign on

a small house at the side of the road.

INFORMATION, PREDICTIONS, AND ADVICE CHEERFULLY

OFFERED. PARK HERE AND BLOW HORN.

With the first sound from the horn a little man in a long

Coat came rushing from the house, speaking as fast as he could,

and repeating everything several times: "My, my, my, my, my welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome

to the land of Expectations, to the land of Expectations, to the

land of Expectations. We don't get many travellers these days;

we certainly don't get many travellers these days. "Now what can

I do for you? I'm the Whether Man."

"Is this the right road for Dictionopolis?" asked Milo, a little

bowled over by the effiusive greeting.

"Well now, well now, well now," he began again, "I don't

know of any wrong road to Dictionopolis, so if this road goes

to Dictionopolis at all it must be the right road, and if it doesn't

it must be the right road to somewhere else, because there are no wrong roads to anywhere. Do you think it will rain?"

"I thought you were the Weather Man," said Milo, very confused.

"Oh, no," said the little man, "I'm the Whether Man, not the Weather Man,

for after all it's more important to know whether

there will be weather than what the weather will be." And with

that he released a dozen balloons that sailed off into the sky.

"Must see which way the wind is blowing," he said, chuckling

over his little joke and watching them disappear in all directions.

What kind of a place is Expectations?" enquired Milo, unable to see the joke and feeling very doubtful of the little

man's sanity.

"Good question, good question," he exclaimed. "Expectations

is the place you must always go to before you get to where you're

gong. Ot course, some people never go beyond Expectations,

but my job is to hurry them along whether they like it or

not. Now, what else can I do for you?" And before Milo could

reply he rushed into the house and reappeared a moment later

With a new coat and umbrella.

"I think I can find my own way," said Milo, not at all sure

that he could. But, since he didn't understand the little man at

all, he decided that he might as well move on - at least until he

met someone whose sentences didn't always sound as if they

would make as much sense backwards as forwards.

"Splendid, splendid, splendid," exclaimed the Whether

Man. "Whether or not you find your own way, you're bound to

find some way. If you happen to find my way, please return it, as it was lost years ago. I imagine by now it's quite rusty, You

did say it was going to rain, didn t you: And with that he

opened the umbrella and walked with Milo to the car.

"I'm glad you made your own decision. I do so hate to make

up my mind about anything, whether its good or bad, up or

down, in or out, rain or shine. Expect everything, I always say,

and the unexpected never happens. Now please drive carefully:

goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, good..." His last goodbye was

drowned out by an enormous clap of thunder, and as Milo

drove down the road in the bright sunshine he could see the

Whether Man standing in the middle of a fierce cloudburst that

seemed to be raining only on him.

The road dipped now into a broad green valley and stretched

towards the horizon. The little car bounced along with very

little effort, and Milo had hardly to touch the accelerator to go

as fast as he wanted. He was glad to be on his way again.

"It's all very well to spend time in Expectations," he

thought, "but talking to that strange man all day would

certainly get me nowhere. He's the most peculiar person I've

ever met," continued Milo - unaware of how many peculiar

people he would shortly encounter.

As he drove along the peaceful road he soon fell to daydreaming

and paid less and less attention to where he was going. In a short

time he wasn't paying any attention at all, and that is why, at a fork

in the road, when a sign pointed to the left, Milo went to the right,

along a route which looked suspiciously like the wrong way. Things began to change as soon as he left the main road.The

sky became quite grey and, along with it, the whole

countryside seemed to lose its colour and assume the same

monotonous tone. Everything was quiet, and even the air hung

heavily. The birds sang only grey songs and the road wound

back and forth in an endless series of climbing curves.

Mile after

mile after

mile after

mile he drove, and now, gradually the car went slower and slower,

until it was hardly moving at all.

"It looks as though I'm getting nowhere," yawned Milo, becoming very drowsy and dull.

"I hope I haven't taken a wrong turn."

Mile after

mile after

mile after

mile, and everything became greyer and more monotonons.

Finally, the car just stopped altogether, and, hard as he tried it

wouldn't budge another inch.

"I wonder where I am, said Milo in a very worried tone

You're. .. in.. . the...Dol...drums, wailed a voice that

sounded far away.

He looked round quickly to see who had spoken. No one

was there, and it was as quiet and still as one could imagine

"Yes...the...Dol.. .drums," yawned another voice, but still

he saw no one.

WHAT ARE THE DOLDRUMS? he cried loudly, and tried

very hard to see who would answer this time.

The Doldrums, my young friend, are where nothing ever

happens and nothing ever changes.

This time the voice came from so close that Milo jumped with

surprise, for, sitting on his right shoulder, so lightly that he hardly

noticed, was a small creature exactly the colour of his shirt.

*Allow me to introduce all of us," the creature went on. we

are the Lethargarians, at your service.

Milo looked round and, for the first time, noticed dozens or

them-sitting on the car, standing in the road, and lying all ovet

the trees and bushes. They were very difficult to see, because

whatever they happened to be sitting on or near was exactly the

same color they happened to be. Each one looked very much like each other

(except for the colour, of course)

and some looked even more like each other than they did like themselves.

"I'm very pleased to meet you," said Milo, not sure whether

or not he was pleased at all. "I think I'm lost. Can you help me

please?"

"Don't say 'think'," said one sitting on his shoe, for the one

on his shoulder had fallen asleep. "It's against the law." And he

yawned and fell off to sleep, too.

"No one's allowed to think in the Doldrunms," continued a third, beginning to doze off. And as each one spoke, he fell

off to sleep and another picked up the conversation with hardly

any interruption

"Don't you have a rule book? Its local ordinance 175389-J."

Milo quickly pulled the rule book from his pocket, opened

to the page, and read, "Ordinance 175389-J: It shall be unlawful,

illegal, and unethical to think, think of thinking, surmise,

presume, reason, meditate, or speculate while in the Doldrums.

Anyone breaking this law shall be severely punished!"

That's a ridiculous law," said Milo, quite indignantly

"Everybody thinks."

*We don't," shouted the Lethargarians all at once.

*And most of the time you don't," said a yellow one sitting

in a daffodil. "That's why you're here. You weren't thinking, and

you weren't paying attention either. People who don't pay

attention often get stuck in the Doldrums." And with that he

toppled out of the flower and fell snoring into the grass.

Milo couldn't help laughing at the little creature's strange

behaviour, even though he knew it might be rude.

"Stop that at once, ordered the fawn one clinging to his

trousers. "Laughing is against the law. Don't you have a rule

book? It's local ordinance 574381-W."

Opening the book again, Milo found Ordinance

574381-W: "In the Doldrums, laughter is frowned upon and

smiling is permitted only on alternate Thursdays. Violaters shall

be dealt with most harshly"

Well, if you can't laugh or think, what can you do? asked Milo.

"Anything as long as it's nothing, and everything as long as

it isn't anything, explained another. "There's lots to do; we have a very busy schedule:

"At 8 o'clock we get up, and then we spend

"From 8.00 to 9.00 daydreaming

From 9.00 to 9.30 we take our early midmorning nap

"From 9.30 to 10.30 we dawdle and delay

From 10.30 to 11.30 we take our late early morning nap

From 11.30 to 12.00 we bide our time and then eat lunch.

"From 1.00 to 2.00 we linger and loiter.

"From 2.00 to 2.30 we take our early atternoon nap.

From 2.30 to 3.30 we put off tor tomorrow what we could

have done today.

From 3.30 to 4.00 we take our early late afternoon nap.

"From 4.00 to 5.00 we loaf and lounge until dinner.

"From 6.00 to 7.00 we dilly-dally

From 7.00 to 8.00 we take our early evening nap, and then

for an hour before we go to bed at 9.00 we waste time.

"As you can see, that leaves almost no time tor brooding,

lagging. plodding, or procrastinating, and if we stopped to think

or laugh, we'd never get nothing done.

"You mean you'd never get anything done, corrected Milo.

"We don't want to get anything done, snapped another

angrily;" we want to get nothing done, and we can do that without your help.

You see", continued another in a more conciliatory tone,

"it's really quite strenuous doing nothing all day, so once a week

We take a holiday and go nowhere, which was just where we Were going when you came along. Would you care to join us?"

"I might as well," thought Milo. "That's where I seem to be

going anyway"

"Tell me," he yawned, for he felt ready for a nap now

himself, "does everyone here do nothing"

"Everyone but the terrible watchdog," said two of them,

shuddering in chorus. "He's always sniffing around to see that

nobody wastes time. A most unpleasant character.

"The watchdog?" said Milo quizzically.

"THE WATCHDOG," shouted another, fainting from fright, for

racing down the road barking furiously and kicking up a great

cloud of dust was the very dog of whom they had been speaking.

"RUN!

"WAKE Up!"

"RUN!"

"HERE HE COMES!"

"THE WATCHDOG!"

Great shouts filled the air as the Lethargarians scattered in all

directions and soon disappeared entirely.

"R-R-R-G-H-R-O-R-R-H-F-F" exclaimed the watchdog as

he dashed up to the car, loudly puffing and panting.

Milo's large eyes opened wide, for there in front of him was

a large dog with a perfectly normal head, four feet, and a tail

and the body of a loudly ticking alarm clock.

"What are you doing here?" growled the watchdog."Just killing time," replied Milo apologetically. "You see-

"KILLING TIME!" roared the dog - so furiously that his alarm

went off. "Its bad enough wasting time without killing it." And

he shuddered at the thought. "Why are you in the Doldrums

anyway - don't you have anywhere to go?

"I was on my way to Dictionopolis when I got stuck here,"

explained Milo. "Can you help me?"

"Help you! You must help yourself," the dog replied,

carefully winding himself with his left hind leg. "I suppose you know why you got stuck."

I suppose I just wasn't thinking" said Milo.

"PRECISELY," shouted the dog as his alarm went off again

"Now you know what you must do."

"T'm afraidI don't" admitted Milo, feeling quite stupid.

Well," continued the watchdog impatiently, "since you got

here by not thinking, it seems reasonable to expect that, in

order to get out, you must start thinking. And with that he

hopped into the car.

Do you mind ifI get in? I love car rides."

Milo began to think as hard as he could (which was very

difficult, since he wasn't used to it). He thought of birds that swim

and fish that fly. He thought of yesterday's lunch and tomorrow's

dinner. He thought of words that began with J and numbers that

end in 3. And, as he thought, the wheels began to turn.

"We 're moving, we're moving," he shouted happily.

"Keep thinking," scolded the watchdog.

The little car started to go faster and faster as Milo's brain

whirled with activity, and down the road they went. In a few

moments they were out of the Doldrums and back on the main

road. All the colours had returned to their original brightness,

and as they raced along the road, Milo continued to think of all

sorts of things; of the many detours and wrong turns that were

so easy to take, of how fine it was to be moving along, and, most

of all, how much could be accomplished with just a little thought.

And the dog, his nose in the wind, just sat back, watchfully ticking.

The Watchdog tells Milo to call him Tock. Milo says, "that is a strange name for a dog who goes tickticktickticktick all day." Tock explains that his brother is named Tick, but he goes "tock" all day. They come from a long line of watchdogs.

At last they reach Dictionopolis, which lies at the Foothills of Confusion and near the Sea of Knowledge. They are stopped by the gateman, who tells them they cannot enter the city without a reason. Milo is at a loss for words, so the gateman gives him a reason to enter: a medallion that says, "Why not?" Once inside the gate, they see a banner that reads, "Welcome to the Word Market." Five men appear, and they speak at the same time, using different words that mean the same thing: "greetings," "salutations," "welcome," "good afternoon," and "hello." They continue to speak in synonyms, explaining that "one word is as good as another," so they use all of them. They are the king's advisers, and they introduce themselves as the Duke of Definition, the Minister of Meaning, the Earl of Essence, the Count of Connotation, and the Undersecretary of Understanding. They tell Milo that words grow on trees in Dictionopolis, and the word market is where people come "to buy the words they need" or trade unused words.

Milo is cautioned to choose words carefully so that he can "say just what [he intends] to say."

Analysis:

The author's playfulness with words here draws on opposites: Tick goes "tock" and Tock goes "tick." Juster also takes common expressions and gives them literal meanings, such as explaining that "money doesn't grow on trees" so words must, since something has to grow on trees. The phrase "a bump in the road" signifies something has happened to stall or slow one's progress. But in the story, Milo and Tock hit a literal bump in the road that causes Tock to fall and his alarm to ring. The same thing happens when the earl explains that choosing the right word is as "easy as falling off a log," at which point he literally falls off a log.

This chapter serves as a clever language lesson, explaining the importance of selecting the precise word to express exactly what one means, and highlighting how communication is dependent upon choosing the right words. The king's advisers, however, add verbal irony to the lesson because each one provides a different synonym for every spoken word instead of choosing the best word to use. Feiffer's delightful drawing of the advisers shows just how similar they all are. They are identical and walk in unison as they each state a synonym one after another.

Names are important throughout the novel, and they reflect the chapter's lesson. In this case, note that the Foothills of Confusion and Sea of Knowledge are linked by the city of Dictionopolis—so language and words move one from confusion to knowledge. The Word Market is the place where words are bought, sold, and traded.