When mulling over boat trips that inspired major





works of fiction, we inevitably think of Mark





Twain piloting the 865-ton Memphis down the





Mississippi River, Joseph Conrad serving as a





steamboat captain in the Congo, or Herman





Melville's 18-month trip to the South Pacific.





But 150 years ago this week, a very short boat trip





took place that resulted in a very big book—perhaps





not in word count (it's only one-tenth the size of





Moby Dick

), but certainly by any

other measure.



If you know which book I'm refer-

ring to, you will probably credit its

inspiration to a young girl named

Alice. But I have a different view,

and prefer to give props to a for-

gotten Anglican minister, who

may be the real reason why we

now enjoy the famous story of



Alice in Wonderland

.



On July 4, 1862, mathematician Charles Dodgson—





better known to us as Lewis Carroll—spent a





pleasant afternoon with a small party of acquaintances.





The group embarked on a rowing expedition from





Oxford, journeying to Godstow some three miles





away, where they stopped to have tea on the river





bank. Dodgson was joined by his friend Reverend





Robinson Duckworth and the three Liddell sisters:





Edith (age 8), Alice (age 10) and Lorina (age 13). As





he often did on such occasions, Dodgson regaled his

companions with an extemporized tale, filled with





such fantastic and humorous characters and incidents





as might delight

the young ladies in his charge.



He named the protagonist of his fanciful story Alice,





after the middle Liddell sister. He told of his





heroine's pursuit of the White Rabbit, her journey





down a rabbit hole, and Alice’s ensuing adventures





in a magical, topsy-turvy world now known to us





as Wonderland. Alice Liddell was so charmed by





the tale that she insisted Mr. Dodgson write it down





for her. The young mathematician did just that, and





later presented her with a manuscript entitled

Alice's





Adventures Under Ground

.



Dodgson had already sent the story to George





MacDonald, an author whose works would later





influence

C.S. Lewis

(who called MacDonald his





"master") and

J. R. R. Tolkien

. MacDonald submitted





the manuscript to the ultimate test—he gave it to his





own children to read, and relayed their enthusiastic





response to Dodgson, who embarked on rewrites

with an eye toward publication. The new version,

now entitled

Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

, was

almost twice as long as the earlier manuscript, and





benefited from the addition of now famous scenes





involving the Cheshire Cat and the Mad Hatter's tea





party. With the further enhancement of illustrations

by John Tenniel, the story was published in 1865,





and credited to author Lewis Carroll.



Those tracing the history of this now famous work





typically focus on the catalytic role of the young





real-life Alice, ten year old Alice Liddell, in inspiring





the story. But I have a different opinion, and see the





other adult, the forgotten Reverend Duckworth—





a talented singer, who was then a fellow at my alma





mater Trinity College, Oxford—playing the decisive





role in shaping the peculiar character of

Alice in





Wonderland

. In Duckworth's account of the day, he





provides these important details: "I rowed stroke





and he rowed bow…and the story was actually





composed and spoken over my shoulder for the





benefit of Alice Liddell."



And why is this important? This unusual setting





for literary invention helps us understand why





Carroll's narrative has the distinct flavor of a tale





aimed simultaneously at children and adults. As





readers of

this classic are aware (and even more so,





readers of

Martin Gardner's marvelous annotated





version

of the work), this book is much more than





an amusing story for young children, but a





multilayered work filled with many things—allusions,





puns, philosophical speculation and humorous asides





—far more suited to an audience of grownups.





These coexist with the fantastic fairy tale elements





that no doubt delighted the Liddell sisters. So give





the fine Reverend his due for forcing his friend to





extemporize in a manner suited to both young and





old.



Carroll was neither the first nor the last to instill





adult concerns into stories for children—other





bearers of tales, from Aesop to Lemony Snicket





have done the same. But Carroll is the preeminent





master of this distinctive breed of fictive multivalence,





mixing in wildly different elements in a provocative





manner that anticipates postmodern narrative





techniques, even

while understanding the demands





of composing stories for younger readers. This





balancing act, never easy, would be beyond many





celebrated authors who write with skill and success





for either adults or children, but would be





flummoxed trying to do both at the same





time.



The memorable characters—the Queen of Hearts,





the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Cheshire Cat,





and others—provide much of the magic here. They





are the parts of this story most often remembered





and discussed…and most easily transferred to other





media via the book's numerous adaptations. Of these,





there are no shortage: Carroll’s work has inspired





films, cartoons, video games, graphic novels,





stage productions, operas, radio broadcasts, and





theme park rides. But the real essence of Carroll's





achievement, namely his unique mixture of the playful,

profound

and paradoxical, is far less easy to transplant





into other formats. For this reason, even those who





think they

are intimately familiar with the story of





Alice from these adaptations are likely to be surprised





and delighted when they first encounter Carroll's





book.



This in itself offers a valuable lesson. In our day





and age, many are inclined to see a story on the





printed

page as one-dimensional, as inevitably falling





short of the technologically-enhanced tales shown





on the

screen, turbocharged with special effects, 3D,





and

all the other advances that Carroll—himself a





devoted photographer fascinated with the visual





image—could never have anticipated. Yet with this





particular story the roles are reversed. When grappling





with

Alice in Wonderland

, the movie or computer screen





is the flat, undifferentiated surface, while the printed





page takes on extraordinary depth, conveying a





plenitude of meanings and marvels that cannot





be "enhanced" or even replicated by the most





advanced digital tools.



And that may be the greatest wonder of





Wonderland.

It's a wonder, moreover, that need





not ever expire, given the extraordinary nature of





Carroll's imagination. For this book, in





contradistinction to almost every other narrative

for children, delights in asking

questions rather





than offering answers, in opening doors and





passageways (or rabbit holes, for that

matter), rather





than shutting them off, in inspiring creativity rather





than serving it up pre-packaged. And that’s a kind





of wonder we ought always to nurture, and never





to outgrow.







Ted Gioia writes on music, literature, and popular culture.

His newest book is

The Jazz Standards: A Guide to the

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