Essay on Lewis Carroll's Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

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Lewis Carroll's Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland Philosophy – a subject that had driven people insane for as long as humans know their history. All the time people try to find a meaning, and later controvert it. For example, critics view a novel by Lewis Carroll Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, as a quest for maturity story, Carroll’s view on Victorian Society and even existential meaning on life. All of those interpretations come from philosophical “drive” of the critics. The truth is that anyone can point a finger at the book and come up with their own “deep” meaning of the story, but if one looks at facts, well known, and obvious things – it is clear that the story is simply a children tale intended for entertainment and nothing …show more content…

And that’s how the story originated. A little girl asked a man to tell her a story during an afternoon boat ride. It is amazing how someone can even attempt to prove this as an existential theory. Duckworth was a person who was there who simply heard the story at the time it was told says, “ it was actually composed and spoken over my shoulder for the benefit of Alice Liddell…”. As you see, the story was told simply to entertain a child. Critics may argue saying that although it was written for a child, Carroll still had deeper meaning intended when he told it. Now the question that comes to mind is ‘Why?’. Why would Carroll, make up a deep-meaning story over which people are still breaking their minds, while he himself was enjoying a lovely boat ride? The answer is: he would not! And he did not! This answer lies in the first pages of the book… All in the golden afternoon full leisurely we glide; For both our oars, with little skill, by little arms are piled, … Thus grew the tale of Wonderland: thus slowly, one by one, its quaint events were hammered out - and now the tale is done, and home we steer, a merry crew, beneath the setting sun. Alice! A childish story take, and with a gentle hand lay it where Childhood’s dreams are twined in memory’s mystic band, like pilgrim’s withered wreath of flowers plucked an a far off

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