Dodsworth isn’t exactly a slacker; he just hews closely to the Thoreauvian notion that superfluous wealth can only purchase superfluities. He makes his rounds at the junkyard and brings back the best of the lot to his thrift shop. “He never sold much, but a little more than enough to get by,” wirtes Egan. Dodsworth has his easy chair, his television and his motto: “Try to do as little as possible.” He also has a date with his destiny: a rusty, pink refrigerator, a new citizen of the junkyard. Working its mysteries, notes held by magnets on the refrigerator get Dodsworth involved in living: “Paint pictures.” “Read more.” “Play music.” Magically, the refrigerator holds the items required to follow the instructions, so paint, read, cook, he does. Ultimately, Dodsworth gets a shove from the nest—“keep exploring,” the fridge says; no more handholding—and Dodsworth, after a minor relapse, does just so. Patent that refrigerator! Better yet, patent the spirit and inspiration that flow through Egan’s story and give everyone a share. (Picture book. 4-8)
