When I finished Alice and Through the Looking glass I had this suspician that, though I really enjoyed it, I was missing a bigger theme. It is as if Lewis Carroll just played a massive joke on the literary community and, wherever he is today, he is still chuckling to himself. Whether the joke is the message hidden in silliness or the poor folks trying to find a hidden message in nonsense, I can not yet tell, but I'm sure he's laughing either way.
I have a high tolerance for silliness especially when it is flavored with imagination, so both stories were a delight for me. In Through the Looking Glass, the meandering plot takes a backseat to the spirit of "playtime" that dominates most of the story. Like a painter who loves the elements of his craft, the color and texture of the paint and canvas, more than the picture itself, Lewis Carroll creates a story where the journey truly is more important than the destination. It is almost as if the story is really just an excuse for the experience: an opportunity to take a dip in a child's dream-world and look at the landscape.
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