Attack of the Stuff

Gr 3-5--Existence is bleak for Bill Waddler, a lonely anthropomorphic duck who can communicate with objects. His lamp, his armchair, and his salt and pepper shakers heckle him for being a friendless loser; his blanket has a later bedtime than he does, which means a cold, blanket-less night; and forget about using the toilet--"Latoyat Toiletstein," as it wants to be called, has aspirations of greatness, like becoming a movie star, or maybe a kitchen sink. Overwhelmed, Bill runs away to the forest. But when the internet unexpectedly shuts down, Bill's curse turns out to be a blessing, as only he can communicate with the internet and find out how to get it (or, rather, her) running again. That is, if he is willing to leave his new life as king of the snakes. The best-selling author of "Dear Dumb Diary" and "Franny K. Stein" has penned an inventive, absurdist, fast-paced story. Benton's dry humor is a winning mix of the surreal (Bill's diva-like toilet; the internet requesting a big pink hat that says "Foxy Lady") and the mundane (the frustration of a public-facing job). The simple, bright line drawings are caricature-like; Bill is depicted as a human-like figure with a protruding mouth. Despite the laughs, a note of pathos creeps in as Bill despairs of his solitary life and eventually manages to forge connections. VERDICT This bizarre yet sweet tale is recommended for most collections, especially where Benton is popular.--Marissa Lieberman, East Orange Public Library, NJ

Bill Waddler has it tough, trying to live daily life amid ultra-communicative man-made objects. Not only do they heckle him with demoralizing insults but the autonomous, frequently gendered objects continually engage during the most basic tasks: toilets chat ("I'd rather talk after," Waddler replies), his blanket isn't always ready for bed, and his peanut butter's jelly allergy keeps it from its most classic pairing. Told in five vignette-like chapters, the story follows Waddler as he grows increasingly annoyed by the objects, retreats to the woods for peace and quiet, then returns to assist authorities when the internet issues demands. While many of these absurdist interactions are fun, Benton's humor sometimes borders on the uncomfortable: a coffee mug expresses upset when another character licks its rim, and a satellite wearing a pink "Foxy Lady" hat is tickled when Waddler swipes his phone screen. Though the barreling pace, especially sans a strong narrative through line, makes for a series of disjointed moments, Benton's expressive signature art offers an amusing antic sensibility and accessible style that readers in this age group will appreciate. Ages 7-12. (May)

Gr 3-5—Existence is bleak for Bill Waddler, a lonely anthropomorphic duck who can communicate with objects. His lamp, his armchair, and his salt and pepper shakers heckle him for being a friendless loser; his blanket has a later bedtime than he does, which means a cold, blanket-less night; and forget about using the toilet—"Latoyat Toiletstein," as it wants to be called, has aspirations of greatness, like becoming a movie star, or maybe a kitchen sink. Overwhelmed, Bill runs away to the forest. But when the internet unexpectedly shuts down, Bill's curse turns out to be a blessing, as only he can communicate with the internet and find out how to get it (or, rather, her) running again. That is, if he is willing to leave his new life as king of the snakes. The best-selling author of "Dear Dumb Diary" and "Franny K. Stein" has penned an inventive, absurdist, fast-paced story. Benton's dry humor is a winning mix of the surreal (Bill's diva-like toilet; the internet requesting a big pink hat that says "Foxy Lady") and the mundane (the frustration of a public-facing job). The simple, bright line drawings are caricature-like; Bill is depicted as a human-like figure with a protruding mouth. Despite the laughs, a note of pathos creeps in as Bill despairs of his solitary life and eventually manages to forge connections. VERDICT This bizarre yet sweet tale is recommended for most collections, especially where Benton is popular.—Marissa Lieberman, East Orange Public Library, NJ