So something people forget about Alice in Wonderland is that the very end isn't about Alice. It's about her older sister. And when I brought this up in my children's lit class, there was a fight between Older Siblings and Younger Siblings.
"First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that would always get into her eyes—and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister’s dream.
The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool—she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it—once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard’s slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock Turtle.
So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs.
Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days."
The Younger Siblings felt that Alice's sister shouldn't have been mentioned at all, and that she was trying to take something that didn't belong to her.
When read it as a kid, it didn't register. When I read it in my Children's Lit class in college, though, it was like a gut punch. Because by then, I could remember the first time my younger brother told me about some fantastical world he'd made up, and I couldn't make it real in my head. I knew it was real to him, and I desperately wanted it to be real to me, and it wasn't. And I didn't tell him it wasn't real because even then I knew how cruel that would be. So I played along. And it hurt, and I didn't know why.
And I bet, if you are an older sibling, you had something similar happen. There is a profound sense of loss in realizing you are Growing Up and your younger sibling isn't at that point. And it is heartbreaking.
Alice's sister isn't trying to take Wonderland for herself. She is mourning her own loss of childlike wonder while at the same time hoping that Alice never experiences the same loss.
snowghoul
vaporwave
titsay
kaledo-art
yousharknotpass
andulkaphoto
jacobvanloon
annaxmalina
blakekathryn
