Review for Alice's Adventures in Wonderland: Only Just Exactly as You Make It

For those readers who do not personally know me, I should open this review by noting the extent to which I grew up and continue to live on Disney movies and animations more broadly (Avatar: The Last Airbender comes to mind). Strangely enough, as a very young girl, the 1951 animation of Alice in Wonderland was actually one of my favourites and one of the only older films to commonly find itself in my VHS player. When I was about fourteen, thinking myself somewhat wiser, I watched it again and the first thought that I had was, “Dang, these animators must have been on something to create such a remarkably strange series of events,” not realizing that it was of course based off of Lewis Carroll’s 1865 short novel that was all the curiousness of the 1951 film amplified to maximum capacity.

The realization of it’s roots as a book came a few years later, as I started my tenure as a student of literature where it became increasingly clear that most timeless movies can indeed be traced back to even more timeless novels or stories. In fact, most great books go to major cinema companies to often be interpreted and produced only through the lens of what will sell. In Alice’s case, that meant that no matter how strange and imaginative the scenery may be, there had to be a straight plot line throughout despite the unpredictable trajectory of the original story. Further, Alice clearly had to show the vulnerabilities of childhood and cry for her own helplessness, and for Tim Burton’s 2010 remake, the cultivation of imagination had to be the guiding moral principle, as though there can only be one lesson in every fable.

After making my way through both Wonderland and the Looking Glass, I do believe it is safe to say that, at the very least, Carroll’s world is much more complex and layered than the films’. Aside from the blatant mixing of the two worlds in the movies (as Tweedle Dee and Dum only appear in the Through the Looking Glass), the books have an ability to deliver a simultaneous confusion and clarity. For every ‘aha!’ moment had, they are shortly followed up by a ‘hm…maybe not.’ In other words, I fell prey into thinking, just as the films did, that there should be an overall message or moral to guide my reading with, which is the exact kind of thinking that ends up putting you permanently on the confusion side of Carroll’s literary coin. For these stories, there is zero sense in trying to find a straight line through a narrative that follows countless different zig-zag narratives.

However, I could not stop myself from looking for the lessons, or intent, as any typical English major would. At first, I thought it was a celebration (or critique) of the English language for the puns and confusion that arose from countless homonyms and homographs. Then I thought that the overall message was in the imagination and strength of children, as Alice continually not only speaks the actions of others into existence, but also never wallows in helplessness and is quite resourceful in the chaos of it all. At one point, I also thought of how Alice never seems lost. She always has a place she wants to go (even if it repeatedly changes), and a blazing curiosity towards everything that surrounds her on the journey towards said place. I have yet to find a moral in this element of the tale that elevates beyond the simplicity of ‘go with the flow,’ but it still seems profound. After countless moments of questioning, my biggest moment of clarity that has yet to be challenged by a ‘hm…maybe not’ came in chapter nine, “The Mock Turtle’s Story.”

The chapter begins with Alice in conversation with a Duchess, in which, amongst constant interruptions and nonsense, she often repeats how everything has a moral to be found. This moment made me realize that, as cliché as it sounds, this book is exactly what I find it to be. This satirical moment with the Duchess notes that no interpretation is going to be the exact same, and further that there can be a different one for every sentence said, especially in a story like Alice’s. Because there are so many winding paths and characters mixed with lessons and absurd notions with confusing diction, there is no way that my experience reading this short novel will be like anyone else’s. Contrariwise, no one else's will be like mine. Of course, this could be said about any work of fiction. Everyone is consistently in a different place when they read any piece of literature. The person reading your favorite novel today is not the same one who read it for the first time all those years ago (or even yesterday for that matter), and it ends up bringing new angles and fresh perspectives every time the spine cracks open again. I would say, though, that Carroll likely has a little more skill in crafting immeasurable takeaways than most. It’s what makes these stories so interesting to read.

In truth, there is something about nineteenth-century writing that will almost always make me sleepy (Jane Eyre is a notable exception). However, against the strain of my tired eyes, Carroll’s wild tales of Wonderland found a way to stay with me and even inspired me to go looking for my own mushrooms. Don’t worry, though. I didn’t eat them. I’m tall enough as it is.