Lewis Carroll loved wordplay so much that even his pen name
was playful. Born Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, he created his pseudonym by
dropping off his last name, coming up with Latin translations of his first and
middle names (“Carolus Lodovicus”), bringing those translations back into
English as Carroll Lewis, and reversing their order. If that sounds convoluted,
just wait until you read his books!
I first tried reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland as
a little girl, without any guidance from adults. Sometimes that’s a happy
thing. In this case, I could have used a little help. With no one to tell me it
was supposed to be nonsense, I just thought I somehow wasn’t “getting it” and reluctantly
closed the book and put it back on the shelf for many years. I think had my
early diet of nonsense been richer, I might have realized more quickly that
this story was supposed to be fantastical and funny. A college Victorian
literature class taught me to appreciate many of the enjoyable puns and plays
on words, but truly, this isn’t a book to encounter initially in a literature
class as much as a book that should be read-aloud, preferably with others, some
of them young, and enjoyed for its absurdity.
That’s what my family and I recently did, and it proved to
be a delightful exercise. After all these years, I finally feel that I “get” Alice, not because of any
sudden “a-ha!” moments, but because I just flat out enjoyed it along with my
husband and eleven year old daughter.
As a teacher and a
parent, I enjoyed being able to introduce my daughter to a classic book
that has become such an engrained part of literary and popular culture. The
lack of coherent story-line in Alice
hasn’t given it the narrative staying power of some classics, but its images
and turns of phrase are iconic. Given the fact that the story is an unfolding
dream sequence, it’s perhaps not surprising that the images stick with you as
they do. Even if you’ve never read the book, you’re likely to have some inkling
that it includes a fall down a rabbit hole, the grinning Cheshire cat, Alice
swimming in a pool of her own tears, the Queen of Hearts and all the playing
cards who attend her, and the Hatter (often referred to as the Mad Hatter) at
the tea-party.
Alice
was originally published in 1865; it’s been adapted, retold, and illustrated
countless times on stage, screen, and page. My best early associations with it
were a ballet adaptation I saw in grade school, and the 1951 Disney film.
Though John Tenniel’s original illustrations are themselves iconic, my daughter
loved the brightly colored, whimsical work of Alison Jay in the 2006 reprint we
picked up at the library. They were a big part of her enjoyment.
Alice
provides a great introduction to the concept of parody, though many of the
poems that Carroll parodies are unknown to modern audiences. That might decrease their humor to one level
but the humor is definitely still there, and in the places where the source
material is still familiar – such as when he turns “Twinkle Twinkle Little
Star” into “Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat” – the double pleasure in the nonsense
shines through.
As a reader and
writer, I appreciated the way Carroll keeps you off balance. I mean that in
the most charitable way. We don’t often think of 19th century
children’s literature as quickly paced, which makes Alice’s madcap adventures all the more
interesting. She moves from one adventure and fantastical encounter to the next
with nary a place to breathe, and it’s all the more confusing because her own
perspective (hence ours) keeps changing.
Our family had some interesting discussions about how old we
thought Alice
was supposed to be. In Through the
Looking Glass, she claims she’s seven and a half, which surprised us all –
though as my daughter pointed out, there’s no reason to assume it’s a sequel; it
could just as well be a prequel. I think we all thought, during our reading in Wonderland, that she was a few years
older, primarily because her experience of feeling either too small or too big
for everything, as she grows and shrinks, captures that “tween” sensibility so
perfectly.
The learning resources for such a treasured classic are
numerous. You might want to start at the Resources page for the Lewis Carroll Society of North America. There’s so much there, you might not need to look
anywhere else.
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