What do you think?
Rate this book


Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking-Glass, from 1871, is a children's novel that is often put in the genre "literary nonsense". Although its the sequel of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland it doesn't reference events of the first book; but some of its settings and themes do form a kind of mirror image of Wonderland. While playing with her kittens, Alice wonders what life would be like on the other side of the mirror. Much to her astonishment she passes through it into an alternate world and discovers looking-glass poetry and talking flowers and becomes a piece in a game of chess played by the Red Queen against the White Queen.
ebook
First published January 1, 1871




“Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.”
“To ‘gyre’ is to go round and round like a gyroscope. To ‘gimble’ is to make holes like a gimblet.”
“And ‘the wabe’ is the grass-plot round a sun-dial, I suppose?” said Alice, surprised at her own ingenuity.
“Of course it is. It’s called ‘wabe,’ you know, because it goes a long way before it, and a long way behind it—”
“And a long way beyond it on each side,” Alice added.”
“Exactly so. Well then, ‘mimsy’ is ‘flimsy and miserable’ (there’s another portmanteau for you). And a ‘borogove’ is a thin shabby-looking bird with its feathers sticking out all round—something like a live mop.”
“What sort of insects do you rejoice in, where you come from?” the Gnat inquired.
“I beg your pardon?” Alice said with a puzzled air.
“I’m not offended,” said Humpty Dumpty.
“I mean, what is an un-birthday present?”
“A present given when it isn’t your birthday of course.”
Alice considered a little. “I like birthday presents best,” she said at last.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” cried Humpty Dumpty. “How many days are there in a year?”
“Three hundred and sixty-five,” said Alice.
“And how many birthdays have you?”
“One.”
“And if you take one from three hundred and sixty-five, what remains?”
“Three hundred and sixty-four, of course.”
Humpty Dumpty looked doubtful. “I’d rather see that done on paper,” he said.”
“In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die.
Ever drifting down the stream—
Lingering in the golden gleam—
Life, what is it but a dream?”
Life, what is it but a dream?

