Alice's Adventures In Wonderland

“‘Curiouser and curiouser!’ cried Alice (she was so much surprised, that for a moment she quite forgot how to speak good English) […].”

This line has become famous because it encapsulates the feeling of entering a fantasy world, and it was become a common expression for conveying that something is becoming increasingly confounding. The incorrect grammar is the first instance of Carroll’s play with language.

“‘It was much pleasanter at home,’ thought poor Alice, ‘when one wasn’t always growing larger and smaller, and being ordered about by mice and rabbits. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down that rabbit-hole—and yet—and yet—it’s rather curious, you know, this sort of life!’”

Despite Alice’s discomfort at the changes she undergoes, her curiosity compels her to continue exploring. This shows that Alice is willing to face uncertainty rather than lead a safe but boring life.

“‘There ought to be a book written about me, that there ought! And when I grow up, I’ll write one—but I’m grown up now,’ she added in a sorrowful tone, ‘at least there’s no room to grow up any more here.’”

This is a metafictional moment, in which the text refers to itself. It is interesting that Carroll gives Alice this idea, but he does not frame the novel as being written by Alice as an adult. The more important aspect of the quotation may be the pun Alice makes on growing up. As she says these lines, she has grown to take up the Rabbit’s entire house. She continues her chain of association of size with age, wondering if her large size means that she will never age. On one hand, she is glad that she will not become an old woman, but she does not like the idea that she would be in school forever. This section brings additional insight to the theme of growing up.

“‘I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir,’ said Alice, ‘because I’m not myself, you see.’”

Alice knows she has a self—that she is a self—but she cannot explain who that self is. Carroll takes the common phrase to explain oneself and turns it into a philosophical inquiry that Alice spends the rest of the novel trying to answer.

“Alice remained looking thoughtfully at the mushroom for a minute, trying to make out which were the two sides of it; and, as it was perfectly round, she found this a very difficult question.”

One example of irrational space is the Caterpillar’s order for Alice to take a piece from each side of the mushroom. She manages by stretching out her arms as wide as she can, and breaking a bit off from each end. The logical joke is that a circle doesn’t have sides; a square does.

“‘But I’m not a serpent, I tell you!” said Alice. ‘I’m a—I’m a—’ ‘Well! What are you?” said the Pigeon. ‘I can see you’re trying to invent something!’ ‘I—I’m a little girl,’ said Alice, rather doubtfully, as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through that day.’”

This passage presents another angle on Alice’s identity journey. With her long neck reaching above the trees, the Pigeon assumes Alice is a serpent that is after her eggs. Instead of asking who she is, as the Caterpillar had done, the Pigeon asks what Alice is. In a logical sleight of hand, the Pigeon reasons that if Alice is a little girl, and little girls eat eggs as serpents do, little girls must be a kind of serpent. Carroll gives Alice another identity paradox to overcome because in claiming to be a little girl, she has identified herself as a serpent.

“‘There might be some sense in your knocking,’ the Footman went on […], ‘if we had the door between us. For instance, if you were on the inside, you might knock, and I could let you out, you know.’”

This passage is an example of Carroll’s playing with substance over sense. The substance of what the Frog-Footman says is true—that one can knock on a door and be let in or out if someone is on the other side—but as front doors are usually locked from the inside, knocking on the door to exit the house is illogical.

“‘You don’t know much,’ said the Duchess; ‘and that’s a fact.’”

The adults in Wonderland are quick to point out Alice’s lack of knowledge, not only as they pertain to the workings of Wonderland, but in general. However, Carroll’s theme of the importance of nonsense is a commentary on the uselessness of much of the knowledge that adults try to impart to children.

“‘If it had grown up,’ she said to herself, ‘it would have been a dreadfully ugly child; but it makes a rather handsome pig, I think.’”

This passage is a short commentary on the theme of being oneself. Carroll reminds readers that it is not helpful to compare yourself to others or live by someone else’s standards. Growing up, children are expected to conform to certain expectations. Alice letting the pig run free into the forest symbolizes growing up on one’s own terms.

“‘[W]e’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.’ ‘How do you know I’m mad?’ said Alice. ‘You must be,’ said the Cat, ‘or you wouldn’t have come here.’”

In this passage, the Cat uses a reversal of logic. Carroll includes many such passages with reasoning that is seemingly backward. The goal of these passages, beyond humor or cleverness, is to make the reader question our assumptions about cause and effect.

“‘Well! I’ve often seen a cat without a grin,’ thought Alice; ‘but a grin without a cat! It’s the most curious thing I ever saw in my life!’”

Another reversal, but in this case the passage examines the relation of the parts to the whole. A cat is considered complete without a grin—as is any creature—but a grin is not assumed to exist independently. Again, Carroll’s seemingly nonsensical statements invite us to see the world in a different way.

“The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he said was, ‘Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’”

One reason the riddle in this passage became famous is its poetics; the sound plays with the letter “r” and its rhythm of three short syllables followed by an accented syllable, which repeats twice in the line. The poetic elements give the riddle a timeless effect, like a nursery rhyme. Like a nursery rhyme, the riddle seems simple, but readers have struggled for generations to find a satisfying response. (Carroll provided one himself, but emphasized the riddle was not intended to have a correct answer.) In the book, the conversation veers away from the riddle into an argument about Alice’s assertion that she means what she says, suggesting that language itself is the riddle.

“‘I dare say you never even spoke to Time!’ ‘Perhaps not,’ Alice cautiously replied: ‘but I know I have to beat time when I learn music.’ ‘Ah! That accounts for it,’ said the Hatter. ‘He won’t stand beating.’”

This passage demonstrates one of the novel’s many puns. In this case, the double meaning hinges on the different ways of interpreting “beat” and time as a musical concept versus its definition as the application of violence.

“The piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in great disgust, and walked off: the Dormouse fell asleep instantly, and neither of the others took the least notice of her going, though she looked back once or twice, half hoping that they would call after her […].”

Even though curiosity and a desire for adventure drive Alice, the theme of loneliness surfaces intermittently. The characters she meets all have their own lives and concerns, and even the rude, chaotic tea party seems preferable for a moment to being alone. Loneliness is an important theme in coming-of-age novels because the protagonist has mentors and friends but must complete their growth journey on their own.

“‘Why, the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a red rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake, and if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we’re doing our best, afore she comes to—[…].’”

Carroll represents British class distinctions through his characters’ speech. The gardeners’ speech represents a cockney accent of the working class. The Gryphon also exhibits this accent, as when he says “It’s all her fancy, that: they never executes nobody, you know (127).” Class plays a subtle role in the story, and while characters like the Cheshire Cat and the Mock Turtle do not seem to have a socioeconomic designation, the Rabbit and Duchess are members of the upper class. The Rabbit takes Alice to be a servant, whereas the gardeners address her as “Miss,” implying that Alice’s class is somewhere between the two.

“‘What’s your name, child?’ ‘My name is Alice, so please your Majesty,’ said Alice very politely; but she added, to herself, ‘Why they’re only a pack of cards after all. I needn’t be afraid of them!’”

At this point in Alice’s journey, she is sure enough of her identity to answer readily when the Queen asks her for her name. Alice has regained enough sense of herself to experience Wonderland on her own terms. She can see the Queen and her court for what they are and realizes she need not be afraid of their threats.

“‘Can you play croquet?’ The soldiers were silent, and looked at Alice, as the question was evidently meant for her. ‘Yes!’ shouted Alice. ‘Come on, then!’ roared the Queen, and Alice joined the procession, wondering very much what would happen next.”

The Queen does not act as an antagonist in most of her interactions with Alice. Even though she finds Alice impertinent, she is eager to accept her into the court’s activities. The Queen takes Alice to the Gryphon to see the Mock Turtle and only threatens to execute her after Alice defies her during the trial. Knowing that none of the executions the Queen orders are ever carried out shows that she is full of bluster, but not necessarily dangerous.

“‘It’s all his fancy, that: he hasn’t got no sorrow, you know.’”

According to the Mock Turtle, his sorrow is that he used to be a real turtle. The Gryphon points out that nothing distinguishes him from a “real” turtle except his belief that he is not one. This is another commentary on identity. Carroll implies that the Mock Turtle can become a real turtle whenever he decides to because he is the one who determines his self-concept.

“‘I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning,’ said Alice a little timidly: ‘but it’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.’”

At this point in the novel, Alice has accepted that she is different from who she was yesterday, even if she has not yet defined her new self. The Mock Turtle asks her to explain, but the Gryphon cuts him off, saying that explanations take too long. Later in the scene, when the Mock Turtle asks Alice to explain why her verses have come out wrong, the Gryphon steps in again and says “She can’t explain it” (143). Unlike the Caterpillar who does not accept Alice’s inability to explain her confusion, the Gryphon takes it as natural under the circumstances, suggesting that the reader do so as well.

“Alice had never been in a court of justice before, but she had read about them in books, and she was quite pleased to find that she knew the name of nearly everything there.”

Alice has retained some of her book knowledge, and unlike at the beginning of the novel, when she could not remember the meaning of latitude and longitude, she can orient herself in the new surroundings. Her newfound self-confidence as much as her knowledge accounts for her ability not to become confused as the trial begins.

“‘Consider your verdict,’ the King said to the jury. ‘Not yet, not yet!’ the Rabbit hastily interrupted. ‘There’s a great deal to come before that!’”

A trial is a formal process in which the examination of evidence in a court of law determines the guilt or innocence of an accused party. Trials are supposed to be orderly and taken seriously. As the Knave’s trial unfolds, it is clear the traditional format will not be followed, and soon after the Rabbit reads the accusation, the situation devolves into chaos. This is the novel’s climax because it is the final test of Alice’s tolerance for nonsense.

“‘That’s very important,’ the King said, turning to the jury. […], when the White Rabbit interrupted: ‘Unimportant, your Majesty means, of course […].’ […] ‘Unimportant, of course,’ the King hastily said, and went on to himself in an undertone, ‘important—unimportant—unimportant—important’ as if he were trying which word sounded best.”

The repetition and reversal of “important” and “unimportant” are examples of defamiliarization, in which the author invites the reader to consider what we assume to have importance and whether that assumption is correct. In the trial’s context, it is a moment of realization for Alice. As she watches the jurors write the words on their slates, she says “but it doesn’t matter a bit” (162). She has already distanced her perspective from Wonderland’s nonsensical activities and is ready to reenter her own world.

“‘Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?’ he asked. ‘Begin at the beginning,’ the King said, gravely, ‘and go on till you come to the end: then stop.’”

These straightforward directions are remarkable for Wonderland, where everything happens according to its own rules and beginnings and endings are not usually observed. The White Rabbit is asking about reading a letter, which may indicate that the act of reading is logical, even when the text is not.