Zohar Shavit,
Poetics of Children's Literature,
The University of Georgia Press,
Athens and London, 1986 ©
Chapter Three
The Ambivalent Status of Texts
As discussed earlier, the poor self-image of the chil-
dren's system imposes various inflexible constraints on
the text,1 such as the simultaneous (often contradictory)
need to appeal to both the child and to the adult and the
tendency to self-perpetuation, the acceptance of only the well known
and extant and the reluctance of the system to admit new models.2
Although most writers for children do indeed write within the frame-
work of these constraints, some try to overcome them through two
extreme solutions: rejecting adults altogether (typical of the non-
canonized system; see chapter 4); and appealing primarily to adults,
using the child as an excuse rather than as a real addressee (typical of
the canonized system). These solutions, which produce ambivalent
texts, will be analyzed and discussed in this chapter, by exploring
characteristic features of ambivalent texts (typical structures, uses of
prevalent norms, manipulations of implied reader) and then by ex-
amining the need to produce ambivalent texts on the basis of the
systemic constraints of the children's system.
The Notion of Ambivalence
Once a text is produced (written, published, and distributed) at a
certain point in time, it occupies a particular position in the literary
1 Writing in the frame of constraints is not typical only of children's literature, a
any written text is to some degree a result of constraints of a certain model. In oth
systems, however, more flexibility is permissible.
2 The willingness of an inferior system to accept the well-established models alone
is characteristic not only of other systems in the literary polysystem, but also of o
semiotic systems, especially of social systems (see Even-Zohar 1978b).
63
polysystem, determined by the different constraints of the literary
polysystem and the literary life (see Even-Zohar 1978b, Shavit
[1978] 1982). The text acquires then a certain status that later may
change in accordance with the dynamic changes of the literary sys-
tem. But at a given point, in a given period, a text normally has an
unequivocal status in the system it has entered. This status can be
described in terms of binary opposition: either the text is for children
or for adults, either it is canonized or non-canonized.
Most literary texts maintain an unequivocal status; some texts,
however, maintain a status that cannot be described as unequivocal
but rather as diffuse. The phenemenon of a diffuse status, well
known in other semiotic systems, such as social systems, implies that
a certain sign (in this case a literary text) enters into more than one
opposition of status within the same system. Those texts that have a
diffuse status could not be dealt with as long as a static notion of
literature prevailed in literary theory; this static notion prompted the
tendency to classify texts into well-defined, homogeneous, and
closed categories, since the notion of structure was wrongly identi-
fied with the notion of homogeneity.
Today the dynamic concept of literary systems is quite accepted,
and it is understood that the literary system is not static but is "a
multiple system, a system of various systems which intersect with
each other and partly overlap, using concurrently different options,
yet functioning as one structured whole, whose members are inter-
dependent" (Even-Zohar 1979, 290). This understanding enables
scholars to describe the relations between systems and elements in
terms of open categories: thus, theoretically it becomes possible to
assume that diffuse boundaries and statuses exist -- an assumption
that was previously inconceivable with the notion of closed catego-
ries. Moreover, this understanding of the nature of literary systems
need not necessarily assume that a system is homogeneous; rather it
is possible to assume that a system is composed of heterogeneous
and even contradictory elements and models (Even-Zohar 1979). For
this discussion, the theoretical possibility of studying diffuse status
and contradictory functions cannot be exaggerated, because the sta-
tus of the texts in question is by definition not unequivocal but dif-
fuse. That is, we are dealing here with a group of texts that normally
belong to the children's system, although their being read by adults is
a sine qua non for their success.
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Scholars find it difficult to study and account for texts read by
adults that at the same time are considered classics in children's liter-
ature -- that is, texts which formally belong to one system (the chil-
dren's) and still are read by the reading public of another system (the
adult), yet their system attribution is based on the criterion of au-
dience age (children versus adults). Moreover, these texts, officially
and originally labeled as children's literature and occupying a domi-
nant position at the center of the canonized system for children,
often have to be rewritten (abridged and simplified) in order to be-
come comprehensible and fully realized by children.
In this chapter I describe the ambivalent status of this group of
texts and discuss their adaptations into books for children by the
original writer himself as well as by various translators. The point of
departure of the discussion is the dynamic notion of the literary sys-
tem as developed by the pioneers of semiotics in Russia (Tynjanov
1971, Jakobson, 1960,1971) and their followers (Even-Zohar 1979,
Lotman 1976a, 1976b). Lotman's notion of ambivalence (1977) is of
special importance for this discussion, although it needs reformula-
tion to suit the analysis of this specific group.
In Lotman's discussion of the system's ability to change and renew
itself, he points out the opposition between univalent and ambivalent
texts. He describes the latter as those texts that give the system "its
flexibility and the heightened degree of non-predictability in its be-
haviour. It is for this reason that the internal capacity of the object for
creating information (the inexhaustibility of hidden possibilities) is
far greater than its description would indicate" (1977, 201). Unfortu-
nately, Lotman's notion of ambivalence is too broad, for it encom-
passes at least three different kinds of texts: texts which have survived
many literary periods, functioned differently in each, and conse-
quently were read differently during each period (for instance, the
drastically different interpretations of Oedipus Rex during its more
than two thousand years of existence); texts which, from the histor-
ical point of view, changed their status in the literary polysystem, that
is, were pushed from periphery to center and vice versa, from adult
to children's literature (for example, the transfer of Dickens's novels
to the children's system after losing their status in the adult system);
and texts which should or can be realized simultaneously in two dif-
ferent ways by the same reader at the same time in order to be fully
realized (for instance, Henry James's The Turn of the Screw; see
65
Hrushovski 1974, Perry and Sternberg 1968). Thus, Lotman's no-
tion of ambivalence refers to a vast range of different texts. According
to his concept, almost any text could be described, from the historical
point of view, as ambivalent, because almost every text has historically
changed its status in the literary polysystem due to the dynamic
nature of that system.
Unlike Lotman, I propose a reduction of the scope and the range
of the notion of ambivalence in order to apply it to one specific case
only: texts that synchronically (yet dynamically, not statically) main-
tain an ambivalent status in the literary polysystem. These texts be-
long simultaneously to more than one system and consequently are
read differently (though concurrently), by at least two groups of read-
ers. Those groups of readers diverge in their expectations, as well as
in their norms and habits of reading. Hence their realization of the
same text will be greatly different (see Ben-Porat 1978).
The notion of ambivalence, as described above, is most helpful in
studying well-known texts of children's literature such as Alice in
Wonderland, Watership Down, Winnie-the-Pooh, The Little Prince, and
The Hobbit, of whose peculiar status many have been aware, though
the reasons for this status have scarcely been discussed. In describing
this group of texts, which became in society's eyes the texts of chil-
dren's literature, it is necessary to both characterize their features as
well as account for their tendency to continually maintain a diffuse
status. Toward these purposes, this chapter will focus on the writer,
the reader, and the structure of the text by discussing the following
questions: What does a writer achieve by producing an ambivalent
text? What is the structure of the ambivalent text and how does it
function in each system? How is the text realized differently at the
same time by two different groups of readers (in this case, children
and adults)? In other words, how does the structure enable the text to
address two different audiences?
The Writer
Writing for children usually means that the writer is limited in his
options of text manipulation if he wants to assure acceptance of the
text by the children's system. An ambivalent text provides the writer
66
for children with a larger range of options in manipulating the text
than does an univalent text. The writer has the otherwise inconceiva-
ble option of producing a text composed of models that are in dis-
agreement with the children's system. As a matter of fact, the text's
models are also in disagreement with the prevalent models of the
adult system (otherwise they could have been accepted as texts for
adults); it is exactly their disagreement with each of the systems, and
the fact that they could not be exclusively accepted by either, that
makes possible their simultaneous acceptance by both systems.
Historically speaking, ambivalent texts tend to manipulate models
that are already rejected by the adult system but are not yet accepted
by the children's. However, once the ambivalent text is admitted,
thanks to the adult approval, into the center of the children's system,
the way opens for the new model to be accepted. In this manner, the
text becomes subject to imitations and is usually described as con-
stituting a historical turning point. Yet the acceptance of the new
model into the system does not necessarily mean that the texts fol-
lowing it will be as sophisticated as the original ambivalent text. Quite
the opposite is true. Once the new model is accepted, the following
texts need not be as sophisticated, and more often than not they will
be based on a much more simplified and reduced version of the
original model that they try to imitate. At the time of publication,
however, the text must be rejected by one system or the other in
order to be accepted by each. Only by addressing the text both to
children and to adults and by pretending it is for children can the
writer make possible the dual acceptance of the text. Adults are will-
ing to accept it as a text for children because they are able to read it,
due to its level of "sophistication" ("sophisticated" for the children
of course). Their "stamp of approval" on the other hand, apparently
opens the way for acceptance of the text by the children's system
(though children do not realize the text in full and are not even sup-
posed to do so, according to adult criteria). In such a way, the writer
for children is not only able to overcome many of his limitations in
writing for children, but is also able to ensure acceptance of the text
that otherwise would have been rejected by both systems.
By having two groups of readers, the writer not only enlarges his
reading public and reaches those who otherwise would not have read
the text (because it was "merely" a children's book), but also ensures
67
the elite's recognition of the dominant status of the text in the can-
onized children's system. The writer can therefore reinforce his sta-
tus in the literary system and ensure a high status for his text in the
children's system. Moreover, the ambivalent text often manages to
occupy immediately a position at the center of the canonized chil-
dren's system, in spite of the fact that univalent texts based on new
models are usually rejected by the center of the system and are
forced to fight their way from the periphery toward the center in a
long and agonizing trail. Rarely do they manage to accomplish this
goal.
Accordingly, the ambivalent status permits the writer, from the
system's point of view, to produce a text composed of new models,
thus breaking the prevailing norms that occupy the center of the
system. In such a way, the writer is able to change existing norms in
the children's system without risking his status and the status of the
text. As a matter of fact, the writer of the ambivalent text can use the
text as a key to his success and recognition.
The Structure of the Text and Its Function in Each System
What makes possible the appeal of the ambivalent text to two groups
of readers from the structural point of view is the fact that the text is
composed of at least two different coexisting models -- one, more es-
tablished, and the other, less so. The former is more conventional
and addresses the child reader; the other, addressing the adult read-
er, is less established, more sophisticated, and sometimes based on
the distortion and/or adaptation and renewal of the more established
model. This is accomplished in several ways: by parodying some ele-
ments; by introducing new elements into the model (sometimes from
another established model); by changing the motivation for existing
elements; by changing the functions and hierarchy of elements; or by
changing the principles of the text's segmentation.
The occurrence of coexisting models in a single text is known from
other cases, such as parody. However, unlike parody, where one of
the models is used to parody another (see Ben-Porat 1979), the ma-
nipulation of the two models in the ambivalent text is different, at
least in some respects. Despite its inevitable parodization, the more
68
established model is meant to be fully and simply realized by the
child reader as it is. It is only the adult reader who is meant to realize
the two coexisting models. What makes this double reading possible
is the mutual exclusivity of the models structuring the text; it is as if
one of the models, the more conventional, permits full realization
without taking the other model into account, simply because the
other model excludes it. In fact, the child reader is indeed supposed
to ignore the less conventional model, while the interplay of the two
models, the more and the less established, can be realized by adults
only.
The dual structuring of the text also enables it to function differ-
ently within each system at the same time. Since it is ambivalent, the
text may be accepted more easily by the center of the canonized
system of children's literature, despite its new models. Hence the text
can challenge the reluctance of the center of the canonized system
(or any formal center in other semiotic systems) to admit new models
as it endeavors to preserve the well established. The ambivalent text
is then able to bring into the system new models (which might have
existed, as such, only on the periphery of the system) and participates
in the mechanism of change in the literary norms. Historically speak-
ing, texts of this kind, once accepted, become models for imitation
and are thus considered as opening a new period in the history of this
literature. From the historical point of view, this diffuse status ex-
plains why a greater number of ambivalent texts tend to be produced
during transitional periods and why there are fewer in stable periods.
However, while the ambivalent text functions importantly in the
process of change of norms in the center of the canonized system for
children, it is no more than "accepted" by adults as a "good" chil-
dren's book. The text is accepted by adults only because it fulfills
their requirements in regard to children's literature. All the same,
this acceptance is crucial to the text as it determines and reinforces
the status of the text in the children's system. Due to its dual struc-
turing, the text manages to break the prevailing norms and at the
same time to achieve a prominent status within the center of the
system, whose norms the text violates. The text attains very high
recognition in the children's system despite the fact that it is in-
completely realized by children and that children prefer the adapted
and abridged versions. This claim, however, does not mean that chil-
69
dren are indeed incapable of realizing the full version. Unfortunately,
almost any reliable information is lacking on how children do indeed
realize texts and in what way it is different from that of adults. Most
of the available information is too speculative and has no sound sci-
entific basis. What is known for sure is that children are supposed to
be able to realize texts differently and are brought up on different
norms of realization; because of this, they are supplied with sim-
plified texts that are supposed to respond to their abilities. This state
of affairs makes the following phenomenon possible in the literary
polysystem: the existence of a text that maintains a high status in one
system (the children's) but is still simultaneously, and often primarily,
read by the reading public of the other system (the adult).
The Reader
It is, as previously claimed, the dual structuring of the text that en-
ables it to address deliberately two different groups of readers: adults
and children. The opposition between the two groups is not only of
age group (or in other cases of social class); what really matters is the
differences in reading habits and in norms of textual realization of
the two groups of readers. Each group will realize the text differently
because each is accustomed to different norms of realization; opposi-
tion between them can be described as the opposition of norms of
greater structuring and norms of lesser structuring of the text.
The writer, who always assumes the existence of a certain implied
reader in producing his text, assumes in the case of the ambivalent
text two different implied readers. The first is composed of adults
who belong to the elite consumers of the canonized system for adults
where (since the Romantic period) the norm of complexity and so-
phistication is prevalent. These consumers demand a high degree of
complexity from the text and would realize such a complicated text in
full. It was never intended that the other assumed implied reader, the
child, would understand such a text, because society presumes his
inability to do so. Thus, for this reader, who is accustomed to re-
duced and simplified models, the text offers the well-recognized es-
tablished models and assumes that this less sophisticated reader will
ignore certain levels of the text.
70
An institutionalized indication of the opposition among assumed
readers (in their preferences for a more or less sophisticated version)
is manifested in the existence of both annotated and abridged ver-
sions (see Gardner 1977, Disney 1980). The annotated version not
only indicates the high status of the text but a certain level of sophis-
tication that legitimates annotations. As Gardner claims in his intro-
duction to the Annotated Alice: "It is only because adults -- scientists
and mathematicians in particular -- continue to relish the Alice books
that they are assured of immortality. It is only to such adults that the
notes of this volume are addressed" (1977, 8). Hence, the annotated
version addresses highbrow adults, while the abridged texts, which
tend to be based upon the well-established model only, are addressed
to children.
In such a way, unlike other texts that assume a single implied read-
er and a single (though flexible) ideal realization of the text, the am-
bivalent text has two implied readers: a pseudo addressee and a real
one. The child, the official reader of the text, is not meant to realize it
fully and is much more an excuse for the text rather than its genuine
addressee.
A Test Case: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
Several well-known texts for children can be described as am-
bivalent; some, like The Hobbit and Winnie-the-Pooh, are perhaps
among the most famous texts for children. However, Alice's Adven-
tures in Wonderland has been chosen for discussion mainly because it
was Lewis Carroll himself who wrote three different versions of the
same story, attributing a different status to each. The existence of
Carroll's three different versions of Alice makes it more convenient,
from the methodological point of view, to explore the nature of the
ambivalent text because the differences between the three versions
indicate the characteristics of the ambivalent text. The discussion of
the differences between the three versions is further motivated by the
fact that in principle the three versions differ from one another in the
same way as adaptations of Alice for children, produced by several
writers, differ from Alice's Adventure's in Wonderland (see, for instance,
Disney 1980, Octopus 1980, and Modern Promotions, n.d.).
71
Carroll's three versions differ from one another primarily in the
status attributed to them by the writer; only one of them was meant to
be an ambivalent text, while the other two maintain an univalent sta-
tus. When Carroll decided to publish Alice (see below), he decided to
change the first version, probably because he found that version too
sophisticated to be accepted by the children's system, yet not sophis-
ticated enough to be accepted by adults. This is why most of the
features characteristic of the ambivalent text already appear in the
first version. But there is a crucial difference between the first and
the second versions: various features, which are only hinted at in the
first, become the dominant features of the second. Thus, the dif-
ference between the two versions lies not only in the presence or
absence of certain elements, but in their organization and conse-
quently their hierarchy within the text as well. In working on the
second version, Carroll was clear in his direction; he wanted to ex-
pand those elements that can be described by us as giving the text its
ambivalent nature. On the other hand, when writing the succeeding
version, The Nursery Alice, Carroll eliminated and deleted all those
elements that he had elaborated in the second version. In this third
version, Carroll tried to extricate the text from its ambivalent status
and deliberately transformed it in order to appeal solely to children,
thus making it a univalent text.
In this discussion, the contrast between the two manipulations of
the text, that of the ambivalent text and that of the univalent, will be
studied to detect and uncover by such comparison the features of an
ambivalent text. As in the comparison of an original versus a trans-
lated text, the comparison of the different versions, based on differ-
ent models, enables us to recognize and expose the more conven-
tional and the less conventional features of each of the models. Thus,
Carroll's three versions make it possible to describe the text process-
ing (Wienold 1981) and account for it, and to demonstrate different
options for manipulating existing models within the system to which
the text was attributed.
It is worth noting that translators, who adapted the text for chil-
dren, acted, in principle, precisely as Carroll did, without being ac-
quainted with the simplified version, The Nursery Alice. That is to say,
they deleted systematically all the elements which together created
the sophisticated model and based their adaptations on the more
established model only.
72
THE THREE VERSIONS OF ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND
Carroll wrote three different versions of Alice's Adventures in Won-
derland. The first one, entitled Alice's Adventures Underground, was
given to Alice Liddell, the daughter of Dean Liddell of Christ
Church, on 26 November 1864 as a Christmas present. This version
was not published as a book for almost twenty years, and only in
March 1885, after Carroll's second version became very successful,
was the manuscript published. As the fascimile edition indicates, the
first version was primarily published as a historical document, and
not as a book for children, probably because Carroll wanted a more
ambivalent text. The well-known text, that of Alice's Adventures in
Wonderland, was the second version, written by Carroll after his
friends encouraged him to publish as a book the manuscript they had
had the opportunity to read. It is said that the novelist Charles
Kingsley found the manuscript in Liddell's house and urged Mrs.
Liddell to persuade the author to publish it. But Carroll was not
convinced until George MacDonald read it to his children with over-
whelming success (Green 1960, 35). Still, Carroll was dissatisfied
with the fact that it was not "ambivalent enough." As a result, he was
reluctant to publish the first version as it was and changed much of it.
This version became the best known, and, in quite a short time,
became a children's classic, making Carroll very famous. Within two
years thirteen thousand copies were sold, although Carroll (who had
to pay for most of the publishing expenses) did not expect it to sell
more than five or six thousand.3 Green claims that: "The two books
had become accepted classics with old and young well before the end
of the century and could be quoted without reference or excuse in
3 Neither Carroll nor his publisher hoped for a commercial success. Carroll per-
suaded MacMillan to accept the book on a commission basis. Carroll was to pay for
the illustrating, printing, and engraving (see Wood 1966, 74), and after he decided to
withdraw the first edition, he described his commercial perspective in his diary of 2
August in the following manner: "Finally decided on the re-print of 'Alice' and that
the first 2,000 shall be sold as waste-paper.... If I make £500 by sale this will be a
loss of £100 and the loss on the first 2,000 will probably be £100 leaving me £200 out
of the pocket. But if a second 2,000 could be sold it would cost £300 and bring in
£500, thus squaring my accounts; and any further sale would be a gain; but that I can
hardly hope for" (Green 1949, 63, my italics). However, Carroll was surprised that
"'Alice,' far from being a monetary failure, was bringing him a very considerable
income every year," as his biographer and nephew Stuart Dodgson Collingwood
claims (1898, 104).
73
the sure knowledge that all readers would take the allusions on the
instant" (1969b, 57).
Queen Victoria's enthusiasm for the book, which became a legend
in itself, only reinforced its status, and the fact that it was sold at the
very high price of seven shillings and sixpence made it into a com-
mercial success as well.4 This commercial success became possible
because the book was bought by adults for their own reading; nor-
mally, people were reluctant to pay so much for a children's book.
Carroll himself was aware of the fact that his book was quite expen-
sive and was not happy about it at all. On 15 February 1869, he wrote
to Macmillan, his publisher: "My feeling is that the present price
puts the book out of the reach of many thousands of children of the
middle class" (Hudson 1978, 129).
In discussing the three versions of Alice, two questions will be
raised: From the historical point of view, what did Carroll try to
achieve by producing an ambivalent text? On what model is the
structure of the text based and how does this structure enable the
text to address two different audiences?
HISTORICAL BACKGROUND
When Carroll wrote Alice, the norms of the Romantic movement with
its enthusiasm for the fantastic and fairy tales not only reigned in
English literature, but practically governed the center of adult liter-
ature. In fact, by the 1860s, the Romantic movement had already
begun to wane. The decline of Romanticism in the canonized adult
system and the rise of the norms of Realism did not imply a sudden
vanishing of the norms of the Romantic movement. Rather, as is
often the case, the declining norms were pushed to the periphery of
the literary polysystem -- to the children's system. Hence the chil-
4 Carroll's success was not immediate and could not be taken for granted. He did
his best to make the book known to the elite and hoped they would approve of it, as
Wood claims: "Dodgson sent out seventy presentation copies of Alice and he made
sure that many of these went to well-known writers and artists and to others whose
opinions and influence would spread the fame and increase the sale of the little red
book" (1966, 75). However, not all reviewers were enthusiastic about the book, as the
Atheneum's comments show: "Mr. Carroll has laboured hard . . . and we acknowledge
the hard labour.... We fancy that any real child might be more puzzled than enchant-
ed by this stiff, overwrought story." (Cripps 1983, 38).
74
dren's system served, as in many other historical examples, as a per-
petuating agent. It absorbed norms that had lost power in the adult
system, but which began to function as the new norms of the chil-
dren's system. This process is not surprising and does not need to be
discussed in terms of "gesunkenes Kulturgut." Rather, it can be seen
as a normal result of the relations between the adult and the chil-
dren's systems.
In this case, the acceptance of the norms of Romanticism into the
children's system became possible, from the literary system point of
view, only when the norms of Romanticism began to decline in the
adult system. This was true because the conservative children's sys-
tem is usually ready to accept new norms only after they have been
widely accepted in the culture. But usually by the time cultural norms
are widely accepted, they have already begun losing their power as
dominant norms in the center of the adult system.
The Romantic movement's passion for fantasy enabled the admit-
tance of the genre into children's literature as well, though the pro-
cess of the introduction of the fantasy model into the system was not
easy, nor immediate. As expected, fairy tales and fantasy were not
accepted into the children's system until they were first accepted by
the adult system. This process itself became possible through trans-
lations of French, German, and Danish texts into English (that of
Perrault, Grimm, and Andersen respectively). Thus the introduction
of the new model into English children's literature was achieved
through cultural interference (see Even-Zohar 1978c), and only after
the new model had been accepted and legitimized by the adult liter-
ary system.
Hence, Carroll was not the first to write a fantasy story. On the
contrary, he was preceded by several texts that opened the way for
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and made its acceptance possible.
The text was nevertheless conceived of as a turning point in the
history of English children's literature. For example, some histories
do not even hesitate to divide the entire history of children's liter-
ature into "before Alice" and "after Alice" (see Muir 1969). But if
Carroll was not the first to introduce the model, how did the text gain
such historical status? The answer seems to lie both in the under-
standing of the process of the model's introduction into the chil-
dren's system, as well as in Carroll's manipulation of the model.
At the beginning of the nineteenth century, the prevailing norms in
75
the center of canonized English children's literature continued to be
didactic and realistic. Thus the publication of a selection of fairy tales
in 1809 that was revised by Benjamin Tabart (see Avery 1971) was,
for the canonized system, rather exceptional, although the book did
have a very strong moral tendency. Fairy tales were forbidden by the
educational establishment and were widespread only in the non-
canonized literature read by children in the form of chapbooks (see
chapter 6). Consequently, with the exception of the French fairy
tales, which were translated into English prior to the Romantic
movement (1699, translation of Madame d'Aulnoy's Contes des Fées
published in 1721-28 in three volumes; 1729, Perrault's Histoires du
temps passé), fairy tales were quite rare in English children's liter-
ature. For example, in September 1831, an anonymous critic, writing
in The Ladies Museum, did not hesitate to bid good riddance to fairies:
"The days of Jack the Giant Killer, Little Red Riding Hood, and such
trashy productions are gone by, and the infant mind is now nourished
by more able and efficient food" (Avery 1971, 321). Fairy tales began
to be widespread in children's literature only toward the middle of
the nineteenth century, when there was a flood of fairy-tale transla-
tion, both oral and written, which determined the dominance of the
fantasy model in children's literature. To mention a few examples:
Grimm was translated into English in 1823-26, and Andersen in
1846 (both by Mary Howitt); in 1854, a translation of a German
collection, The Old Story-Teller by Ludwig Bechstein, was published;
and in 1857 Annie Keary's translation of Heroes of Asgard was issued.
In the next two years two more collections were published: Four and
Twenty [French] Fairy Tales in 1858 and Popular Tales from the Norse in
1859. The "invasion" of fairy tales into English children's literature
is evidenced by no less than four volumes of Andersen published in
1864: Wonderful Stories for Children from the Danish by Mary Howitt
(Chapman and Hall), Danish Fairy-Legends and Tales (no translator is
given, but it probably was Caroline Peachey), and A Danish Story Book
and The Nightingale and Other Tales, both translated by Charles Boner
from German versions (Hürlimann 1967, 51).
However, translations turned out to be just the first in the over-
flowing stream of original fairy tales and fantasy stories to be pub-
lished in the following years. Among the best known were: Paget's
The Hope of the Katzekopfs in 1844; Ruskin's The King of the Golden
76
River in 1851; Thackeray's The Rose and the Ring, in 1854; Kingsley's
The Heroes in 1856 and The Water Babies in 1863; and Browne's
Granny's Wonderful Chair and Its Tales of Fairy Times in 1857.
Thus a pattern of development can be traced in which previously
rejected fairy tales became, toward the middle of the nineteenth cen-
tury, almost the prevalent norm of canonized children's literature.
When Nathaniel Hawthorne wished to adapt Greek mythology for
children, he wrote to his publisher in 1851 that he would "aim at
substituting a tone in some degree Gothic or romantic . . . instead of
the classical coldness which is as repellant as the touch of marble"
(Townsend 1977, 91-92). Yet Hawthorne's words reveal only one
side of the struggle for what Townsend describes as "the rehabilita-
tion" of fairy tales. This struggle, which began at the turn of the
century with the triumph of those who fought against fairy tales (Sara
Trimmer and her comrades), reached its peak in the bitter conflict
between Dickens and Cruikshank. This conflict surfaced at the time
of the revolutionary innovation in the children's system, when fairy
tales first were being published (although in revised and moralized
versions). In response to the publication of Cruikshank's version of
Hop-o'- My- Thumb, Dickens published his attack on it, entitled
"Frauds on the Fairies" (Examiner, 1 January 1853). As Steig claims,
Cruikshank's book "was attacked vehemently by Charles Dickens,
who in an Examiner article 'Frauds on the Fairies' argued for the
importance of fairy-tales as 'nurseries of fancy,' and that 'whosoever
alters them to suit his own opinions, whatever they are, is guilty . . .
of an act of presumption, and appropriates to himself what does not
belong to him"' (Steig 1980-81, 196). However, Cruikshank never
fully understood why Dickens objected furiously to his adaptation;
ten years later in 1864, when revising his original reply to "Frauds on
the Fairies" for inclusion in Puss in Boots, Cruikshank wrote:
And what are these doctrines and opinions [introduced into the fairy-
tales]? Aye! What I have done? Where is the offence? Why, I have en-
deavoured to inculcate, at the earliest age, a Horror of Drunkenness and a
recommendation of TOTAL ABSTINENCE, from ALL, INTOXICATING LI-
QUORS, which, if carried out universally, would not only do away with
DRUNKENNESS ENTIRELY, but also with a large amount of POVERTY,
MISERY, DISEASE, and DREADFUL, CRIMES; also A DETESTATION OF
77
GAMBLING, and A LOVE OF ALL THAT IS VIRTUOUS AND GOOD, and an
endeavour to impress on every one the necessity, importance, and justice of
every child in the land receiving a usefule and religious education.
And I would here ask in fairness, what harm can possibly be done to
Fairy literature by such re-writing or editing as this? (Stone 1977-80,
245-46)
Dickens's crusade for unrevised fairy tales for children did not effect
changes immediately. Despite the new attitude toward the previously
forbidden fairy tales, their introduction into the children's system
was permitted only on condition that they would be adjusted to the
demands of the children's system. The attempt to meet these de-
mands explains two dominant features, characteristic of early English
fairy tales and fantasy stories for children.
In all fairy tales, a clear distinction was made between reality and
fantasy. Fantasy was permissible only within very explicitly defined
borders; thus writers considered it their duty to emphasize the imagi-
nary nature of the text and the fact that it had no realistic ground. At
the end of the eighteenth century, Mary Jane Kilner wrote in her
foreword to The Adventures of Pincushion: "As I would not willingly
mislead your judgment I would, previous to your reading this work,
inform you that it is to be understood as an imaginary tale" (Town-
send 1977, 47). Her words continued to echo in English children's
literature for more than half a century.
Like any other canonized books for children, fairy tales that were
written for the canonized system always had a moral. Gillian Avery
states this when referring to mid nineteenth-century fairy tales:
All these early fairy tales have a strongly moral and didactic slant. None
of the writers hesitates to use the conventions of fairyland for the pur-
pose of teaching some useful lesson.... Enchantment in all these
books, is only in the nature of supernatural machinery. There is no
highly imaginative writing, no strange fairy tale settings, no original
characterisation. Invariably the supernatural is used to point the moral,
not because the writers feel an intrinsic interest in it." (1971, 323)
The moral had to suit the educational views of the time and thus had
to demonstrate that the fairies for children encouraged the develop-
78
ment of children's moral character. Cruikshank's adaptation of "Cin-
derella" that aroused Dickens's fury did this, yet was not such an
exceptional example within the children's system of the time. Thus
when the king proposed to celebrate the wedding of Cinderella and
the prince by Mis
le Asaf
fountains flow with wine, the fairy god-
mother objects, arguing that the strong wine "leads also to quarrels,
brutal fights and violent deaths.... The history of the use of strong
drinks . . . is marked on every page by excess, which follows, as a
matter of course, from the very nature of their composition, and [is]
always accompanied by ill-health, misery and crime" (Stone 1977-
80, 240). Consequently, the king "gave orders that all the wine, beer
and spirits in the place should be collected together . . . and made a
great bonfire on the night of the wedding" (Townsend 1977, 92).
Thus, despite the fact that writers (mainly of the mainstream writing
for adultemps passé oppose the demands concerning children's liter-
ature in general (the demand for a moral), and fantasy in particular,
writing for children still had to obey these demands if it wished to be
accepted by the children's system.
CARROLL'S MANIPULATION OF EXISTING MODELS
A historical overview of English literature shows quite clearly that
Alice was not the first children's fantasy story and thus could not
possibly have gained its status as a "classic" (a text of great impor-
tance) merely because it was a fantasy story. Alice was considered a
turning point already in its own time, as well as in several historiogra-
phies (see Darton 1958, Townsend 1977, Muir 1969), not because of
the introduction of the fantasy model, but because of the way the
fantasy model was handled. It was Carroll's manipulation of the ex-
isting model of the fantasy story, as well as other prevailing models in
English literature of the time, that created a new model; making the
text a classic and a subject for imitation.
Carroll very quickly became a model for imitation and several
writers admitted their indebtedness to him, as did the Australian
writer of Bertie and Bullfrogs, who wrote the following author's apolo-
gy to Lewis Carroll:
79
Dreamer of fancies thoughtful, quaint and tender,
Wonderer of wonders so grotesquely bold,
Lord of Misrule, of Nonsense sworn Defender,
Reducing to madcap laughter young and old,
Pardon a humble follower whose hand
Plucks this poor twig from out thy crown of laurel
To plant it in the fair Australian land,
And grow inspired by thee, a Christmas Carroll.
(Saxby 1969)
Historically speaking, Alice is very similar to Gogol's "The Nose" in
its handling of existing models. Gogol used models existing in several
systems, literary and non-literary, and manipulated them in several
ways in order to produce a new model; moreover, he produced a new
model that was developed through the manipulation of several exist-
ing models and was based on the distortion of already existing mod-
els (see Vinogradov 1922). Historically, it is not its position as a totally
new and previously unknown model that makes the text a "master-
piece" or warrants its consideration as a "turning point," but rather it
is the manipulation of models already existing in the system that
earns status for the text. However, the procedure, which is typical of
the adult system, is more difficult to maintain in children's literature
because of the system's strong tendency of self-perpetuation. Still, in
the case of Alice, it was the ambivalent character of the text that liber-
ed Carroll from the limitations imposed on children's literature
(particularly on children's fantasy) and gave him the freedom to pro-
duce a text based on a different model of fantasy.
CHARACTERISTICS OF ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND
AS AN AMBIVALENT TEXT
My discussion of Alice does not propose to offer an exhaustive in-
terpretation of the text, nor a detailed description of its characteristic
features. It is mainly aimed at exploring structural features that en-
dow the different versions with ambivalent character. This requires
discussion of Carroll's handling of models current at the time, es-
pecially as far as the level of moral, parody, and relations between
fantasy and reality are concerned.
80
The text is based on three different models that existed in chil-
dren's literature at the time. Carroll combined these models and, in
doing so, distorted and altered them. He combined two prominent
models of children's literature -- that of the adventure story and that
of the fantasy story -- and added them to the model of a nonsense
story (Lear's famous Book of Nonsense was first published in 1846).
The first model had been prominent in children's literature in the
preceding fifty years, while the latter two were gaining recognition.
Carroll himself seemed to have been aware of the novelty of his text
(because of the change in the conventional model). In his diary he
later wrote: "That was many a year ago, but I distinctly remember
now, as I write, how, in a desperate attempt to strike out some new line of
fairy lore, I had sent my heroine straight down a rabbit-hole" (Carroll
[1887] 1961, 165, my italics). In a letter to a friend he declared "I can
guarantee that the books have no religious teaching whatever in
them -- in fact they do not teach anything at all" (Green 1960, 51).
This was quite a provocative declaration at the time and certainly
indicated a new concept of children's literature. Thus Carroll aban-
doned the moral level, which was still considered mandatory in chil-
dren's literature (though no longer in adult literature). In this respect,
he violated an almost sacred rule of current canonized children's
literature; nevertheless, this violation was made possible thanks to
adult acceptance of the book.
Ironically, in Carroll's time children liked the book precisely be-
cause of its lack of moral. Lord Bertrand Russell, in answering a
question on whether children today still read Alice, replied: "My ex-
perience . . . is that they don't, and I think this because there are so
many more children's books now and because when I was young, it
was the only children's book that hadn't got a moral. We all got very
tired of morals in books" (Gardner 1969, 151-52). As Green claims,
the lack of moral in itself signaled the novelty of the text, though
modern norms of writing for children make it difficult to grasp this:
"Alice is so much a part of the cultural heritage of the Western World
that it is hard to realize its uniqueness or to see how startlingly new it
was.... To see how utterly different it was from all that had gone
before, one has but to read The Water Babies (1863), an absolute orgy
of self-conscious didacticism" (Green 1960, 52). However, it was not
only the lack of a moral in the text that made children so enthusiastic,
81
but also the option the text left them to realize only the more estab-
lished models and to ignore the parody on those models (parody that
appealed to adults). Thus, in Alice, Carroll parodied various elements
of several established models of children's literature, although his
main target was the popular children's verses of the time, written
during the eighteenth century and the beginning of the nineteenth.
In fact, those verses were the literary heritage of the tradition on
which Carroll and his contemporaries had grown up. In his anno-
tated Alice, Gardner even claims: "Most of the poems in the two
Alice books are parodies of poems or popular songs that were well
known to Carroll's contemporary readers" (1977, 38). For instance,
Carroll parodied two poems that had strong moralistic emphasis.
When Alice sings, "You are old, Father William," her verse is a par-
ody of the didactic poem "The Old Man's Comforts and How He
Gained Them" by Robert Southey (1774-1843). In another case,
"How doth the little crocodile / Improve his shining tail," Carroll
made a parody of one of the best-known poems (of a strong moral-
istic slant) by Isaac Watt (1674-1748) -- "Against Idleness and Mis-
chief," which was undoubtedly part of the heritage of English chil-
dren's literature of that time.
Parody, as Tynjanov (1971) argued, is typical when norms change
in the literary system and indicates the approaching end of a literary
period. In the parody, the writer bases the new model on the re-
modeling of an already exiting model, thus introducing the estab-
lished model (while abusing it at the same time), or as Erlich ex-
plained it: "This is, the Formalist critic implies, how literary change
comes about. The old is presented, as it were, in a new key. The
obsolete device is not thrown overboard, but repeated in a new in-
congruous context, and thus either rendered absurd through the
agency of mechanization or made 'perceptible' again" (1969, 258).
Parody, no doubt, contributes to the nonsense level of the text, but its
more important function is linked with Carroll's endeavor to break
the prevailing norms in children's literature. Once mocked, it be-
comes difficult for the parodied texts to be accepted again. Carroll's
manipulation of existing models resulted in the production of a new
model that served as a prototype of children's books to follow. As
MacCann claimed: "Alice set a precedent in children's books. The
influence of such imaginative and irreverent story-telling opened the
82
way for the development of the fantastic genre in children's liter-
ature" (1969, 133). This new "fantastic" genre was created when
Carroll brought into the model of the fantasy story elements of the
adventure and nonsense stories. On the whole, he did not change the
existing fantastic model by deleting elements, but rather by changing
their functions. As a result, motivation for the introduction of various
elements changed, as did their hierarchy, especially in regarding the
rules of space and time and the relations between reality and fantasy.
While children's literature was keen to distinguish between reality
and fantasy, even after imagination had been as Townsend says "re-
habilitated," Carroll deliberately blurred relations between fantasy
and reality. This diffusion is made possible by the nature of the dif-
ference between fantasy and reality. This difference is not the result
of presenting different elements but the result of their different orga-
nization, which creates different fields of reference (see Hrushovski
1979). Hence, the same elements can participate in different fields of
reference to create different worlds based on different models of or-
ganization: in one, a world organized in a fantastic field of reference;
in the other, a world organized in a realistic field of reference.
In fact, Alice manipulates the various fields of reference in order
to obscure the differences between fantasy and reality. This manipu-
lation makes it possible for the same elements to appear at first in a
dream (or something that at least can be partly explained as a dream)
and immediately afterward to be dreamt about as if they had oc-
curred in reality. The same elements take part in both occurrences;
only the dimensions through which they are seen are different.
Fantasy is then described by Carroll in terms of a real occurrence
and vice versa, and therefore it is very difficult to distinguish between
what happens in reality and what happens as fantasy. If the confused
relations between fantasy and reality at two decisive points of the
text -- the beginning and the end -- are analyzed, it will be observed
that, in both cases, it is impossible to label definitively either of the
episodes as a dream or as a real event.
The opening scene sets a pastoral view where the rabbit that
passes by could be part of the setting and the bored girl could be
asleep and dreaming. In this case, the whole story could have been
motivated as a dream and the transition from the white rabbit to the
talking white rabbit could have been explained as a transition from
83
reality to a dream. Carroll builds this option but at the same time
seems to cancel it because he does not leave anything determined
and final. Thus, Alice is not asleep, but rather tired and sleepy;
moreover, the option to see the rabbit as part of the setting (the
shores of the bank) is built in one paragraph only to be canceled in
the next:
Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the
bank, and of having nothing to do....
So she was considering, in her own mind (as well as she could, for
the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure
of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and
picking the daisies, when suddenly a white rabbit with pink eyes ran
close by her. (Gardner 1977, 25)
Carroll not only draws from the option (which was already built in
the text) of seeing the white rabbit as part of the setting, but he is also
keen to draw attention to the rabbit's appearance by having Alice
comment on it, thus "making strange" the dual existence of the ele-
ments mentioned: "There was nothing so very remarkable in that;
nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit
say to itself, 'Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!' (when she
thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have
wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural)"
(Gardner 1977, 25-26). Moreover, Carroll uses the order of events
introduced in order to make us accept the situation; only then does
he point to the abnormality of the entire situation. Alice does not
marvel at the rabbit talking to himself, but she does marvel at the
rabbit taking out his watch. Of course, both acts of the rabbit are
equally strange. The fact that Alice marvels at only one of them not
only draws attention to the peculiar situation but to the possible
world built into the text as well (Pavel 1976). The meta-text tech-
nique -- "when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that
she ought to have wondered at this," -- not only gives legitimation to a
reconstruction of the situation, but also calls attention to the world
presented in the text. This is a possible world with its own rules
which are so coherent that they might mislead us to believe that they
are really valid and possible. Carroll first makes us believe them to be
possible; only later does he occasionally digress from this presenta-
84
tion and calls for a comparison between the "real" world and the
possible world.
On the other hand, Carroll deliberately confuses the two worlds --
and in the most decisive points of the text; that is, he does it not only
at the beginning of the story, but at the end as well. For example,
Alice grows back to her normal size when she is still with the cards.
In other words, she comes back to the "real" world when she is still
in the possible world of fantasy. This confusion of the two worlds is
described in detail as a long process, hence making the coexistence
of the two worlds endure for quite a long time:
"If any one of them can explain it," said Alice, (she had grown so
large in the last few minutes that she wasn't a bit afraid of interrupting
him)....
"Who cares for you?" said Alice (she had grown to her full size by
this time). "You're nothing but a pack of cards!" (Gardner 1977, 159,
161)
To make matters even more confused, Carroll does not end the story
when Alice wakes up; rather, he leaves the question of whether or not
it was a dream open, and even makes Alice's sister dream the whole
story again. Thus, while he opened the story by framing it into an-
other story, he uses the sister's dream to reframe the entire text into
"a dream within a dream": "But her sister sat still just as she left her,
leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking
of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began
dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream. . ." (Gardner
1977, 162).
This complicated technique totally blurs relations between the two
worlds. Alice's sister dreams about Alice's adventures, as if they were
of real substance, whose existence equals that of the real world. In
such a way, Carroll questions the boundaries between the two di-
mensions. If a dream can be dreamed about, as if it were real, con-
versely, reality can be described as if it were a dream. The two di-
mensions exist equally and are equally "real." Evidence of this can be
seen when Alice's sister dreams about Alice and about her adven-
tures in the same sequence, without distinguishing between them at
all:
85
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 sup-
pressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sob of the
miserable Mock Turtle.
So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Won-
derland, 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. (Gardner 1977, 163-64)
The blurred distinction between real and unreal and the transition
from one to another can be "explained" only in accordance with the
conventions of a nonsense story, where motivation other than the
logical is permitted. Thus, the transition from reality to fantasy and
vice versa cannot be logically explained (unless the internal "logic" of
the story is accepted). The same rule holds true for the description of
space and time in the text. The text sets its own code for the time and
space, and builds them accordingly. Thus, the transition from one
space to another is not based on a realistic model, but more often
than not on metonymic relations. Alice, for instance, is at one mo-
ment inside a room, then the room becomes a small pool (the pool of
tears), and later the pool becomes part of the outside world. Again,
Carroll emphasizes the peculiar transition by having the transition
based on a realistic model canceled. Alice cannot get out through the
door:
And she ran with all speed back to the little door; but alas! the little
door was shut again, and the little golden key was lying on the glass
table as before. (Gardner, 1977, 39)
86
As she said these words her foot slipped, and in another moment,
splash! she was up to her chin in salt water.... However, she soon
made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept. (40)
Just then she heard something splashing about in the pool a little way
Off. (41)
Alice led the way, and the whole party swam to the shore. (44)
The fact that Carroll suggests several options and then draws back
from them, does not cancel them, because once presented, they are
built into the text (see Perry 1979). Usually those options (canceled
later) that are part of the more established model allow Carroll (de-
spite the distortion) to leave open the choice of reading the text either
as a simple fantasy story or even as a simple adventure story. The
reader, in a sense, can realize only the well-known established ele-
ments and thus can construct the established model only.
Carroll's other versions, especially The Nursery Alice, support the
view that the features described above (such as a blurred distinction
between reality and imagination, spatial transitions) are characteristic
of the ambivalent text and, in fact, contribute to its ambivalent
nature. When Carroll (as well as the translators/adaptors) adapted
the text for children, he totally omitted the features described above,
and instead, acted as follows. First, Carroll totally changed the tone
of the text. He adjusted it to the condescending authoritative tone,
which was typical of conventional didactic stories of the time, and
especially to those intended to be read to children and not by chil-
dren. This tone has nothing whatsoever to do with Alice Liddell, as is
often suggested, who was thirty-seven when The Nursery Alice was
published. Rather, it has to do with the conventional tone of chil-
dren's books at the time, of which Carroll was undoubtedly aware,
for he maintained a similar tone in his intentionally didactic story of
Sylvie and Bruno. In The Nursery Alice, Carroll says: "You'll never
guess what it was: so I shall have to tell you" (Carroll 1966, 7). The
second action Carroll took was the omission of all the elements of
satire or parody. This is very obvious in the case of the systematically
omitted poems. The satirical poems, which had mainly contributed
to the parody level, were left functionless in a version meant for chil-
dren only. Finally, Carroll made Alice a simple fantasy story, based on
the conventional model of the time. The distorted relations between
87
space and time, fantasy and reality, were restored since Carroll was
eager to distinguish between reality and fantasy and thus no confu-
sion was permissible. In each of the texts the author manipulates the
relationship bewteen time and space on the one hand, and reality and
fantasy on the other. In Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Alice's fall
into the rabbit hole takes a long time, more than realistically possible
according to the laws of gravitation. The sense of this continuous fall
is created by Carroll's special manipulation of time and space. By
combining elements of both, Carroll described time in terms of
space, changing the rules of time. Carroll emphasizes the continuous
fall by having Alice pick up a jar of marmalade. The passing time is
then described by the elements of space -- the shelves: "She took
down a jar from one of the shelves as she passed: it was labeled
'ORANGE MARMALADE but to her great disappointment it was
empty" (Gardner 1977, 27). Alice even finds time to put the mar-
malade back on the shelves, an act that reinforces the sense of the
slowly passing time: "So [she] managed to put it into one of the
cupboards as she fell past it" (Gardner 1977, 27).
On the other hand, the peculiar sense of space (which by itself is
used for describing time) is created by Carroll's special motivation of
spatial elements, which deviates from conventional presentation.
Carroll does not base his description on realistic models, but on met-
onymic relations, and more specifically, metonymic transfers from
one element to another, which are impossible or unthinkable in terms
of realistic models. Carroll uses metonymic transfer in the descrip-
tion of the space of the rabbit hole, which suddenly turns into a well;
thus the transfer from one space to another is deliberately confused.
In realistic terms, this transformation could not have been possible.
There simply was no room for any of the mentioned spatial elements
except for grass and stone. Yet Carroll manages to create a descrip-
tion that allows for such transformation and for the mentioning of
certain items such as shelves without ever provoking the reader to
notice or question it. He does this in spite of the fact that the descrip-
tion lacks any realistic basis and is actually based on metonymic rela-
tions. Once Alice is underground, it is the underground that enables
the transition from the hole into a well. Moreover, once the shelves
decorating the well are mentioned, they supply the motivation for the
introduction of other elements that, in terms of realistic models, rep-
88
resent different spaces (marmalade jar -- the kitchen; maps -- the
classroom): "Then she looked at the sides of the well, and noticed
that they were filled with cupboards and bookshelves: here and there
she saw maps and pictures hung on pegs" (Gardner 1977, 26-27).
However, when Carroll (and his translators) extricated the text from
its ambivalent status (in The Nursery Alice), he deleted the sophisti-
cated handling of space and time and motivated the description of
the fall on a different basis than in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
(either on a model of a dream or on a realistic model).
Thus Carroll gives a rational explanation for the fall in The Nursery
Alice, declaring that such a long fall is possible in terms of a dream:
"If anybody really had such a long fall as that, it would kill them, most
likely: but you know it doesn't hurt a bit to fall in a dream, because all
the time you think you're falling, you really are lying somewhere, safe
and sound, and fast asleep!" (The Nursery Alice, 3). Carroll also de-
leted all the spatial description of the well and described it as a rabbit
hole, emphasizing both the difference and similarity between a well
and a rabbit hole:
. . . and she ran, and she ran, till she tumbled right down the rabbit-
hole.
. . . It was just like a very deep well: only there was no water in it.
(The Nursery Alice, 3)
Writers who adapted Alice's Adventures in Wonderland for children
were also not happy with Carroll's manipulation of time and space
and relations between reality and fantasy. They acted, from a point of
principle, precisely as Carroll did in The Nursery Alice, probably with-
out even being aware of this version's existence. Their similar adap-
tations, in fact, might well reveal more than anything else those ele-
ments that needed reformulation; only through their and Carroll's
reformulations could the text lose its ambivalent status and regain the
univalent one considered appropriate for children.
Just like Carroll, adaptors felt it was necessary to withdraw from
the blurred relations between reality and fantasy. Therefore they mo-
tivated the first scene in either realistic or dream terms, usually mak-
ing the fall very short and realistically possible. The Disney edition
shows this change:
89
Alice was growing tired, listening to her sister read. Just as her eyes
began to close, she saw a white rabbit hurry by, looking at his pocket
watch and talking to himself. Alice thought that was very curious in-
deed -- a talking rabbit with a pocket watch! So she followed him into a
rabbit hole beneath a big tree.
And down she fell, down to the center of the world, it seemed.
When Alice landed with a thump . . . (Disney 1980)
In the Octopus edition a similar adjustment was made: "She fol-
lowed him [the rabbit] down a large rabbit hole. At the bottom she
found a small table and a tiny key" (Octopus 1980). The Modern
Promotions edition also followed suit:
So she fell asleep, and this is what she dreamed.
All at once, a White Rabbit came running by.... Alice wanted to see
what would happen to it; so she ran and ran, till she found herself
tumbling down through a rabbit-hole after it.
After Alice had run a long long way underground, suddenly she en-
tered a great hall with many doors. (Modern Promotions)
In the Modern Promotions adaptation the writer used as a motivation
both the dream and the realistic explanation, though he carefully
separated the two -- Alice is dreaming the whole scene ("that is what
she dreamed"), but still the space is a rabbit hole. Moreover, she does
not fall at all, but rather runs through the hole.
Concomitantly, fantasy is motivated in the Nursery version as
something that happens in a dream; a logical explanation exists for
each event. When Alice wakes up she finds "that the cards were only
some leaves off the tree, that the wind had blown down upon her
face" (Carroll 1966, 56). Furthermore, Carroll bothers to emphasize
again that the whole story is a dream: " Wouldn't it be a nice thing to
have a curious dream, just like Alice?" (Carroll 1966, 56). Again,
translators acted as Carroll did, and explained the whole story as a
dream:
At this the whole pack flew up into the air.
Alice tried to brush them away -- and found that they were only
wind-blown leaves brushing her face. She was awake once more, and
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her sister was smiling at her. "Oh, I've had such a curious dream!" she
said.
Wouldn't you like to have a wonderful dream, too, just like Alice?
(Modern Promotions)
She covered her eyes with her hands and when she took them away
she found she was in her own garden at home. All her adventures in
Wonderland had been just a dream. (Octopus 1980)
The difference between the two versions, the opposition between the
tones, the lack of parody and satire in the Nursery version, and the
different handling of space and time and the relations between reality
and fantasy all indicate how well Carroll was aware of his implied
reader each time. This awareness of potential readers and potential
realizations of the text seem to be among the reasons for Carroll's
decision to produce both an ambivalent and univalent text. Though
the ambivalent version is seldom read by children today, it was a text
that initiated new options for children's writers and became a model
for imitation for many later children's books.
Texts
ENGLISH EDITIONS
Carroll, Lewis. [1865] 1968. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. New York:
MacMillan.
____. [1886] 1965. Alice's Adventures Underground. New York: Dover.
____. [1890] 1966. The Nursery Alice. New York: Dover.
ENGLISH ADAPTATIONS
Alice in Wonderland Coloring Book. 1972. New York: Dover.
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. New York: Modern Promotions.
Alice in Wonderland. 1980. London: Octopus.
Disney, Walt. 1980. Alice in Wonderland. Adapted by Al Dempster. Racine,
Wis.: Golden Press.
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HEBREW TRANSLATIONS
Carroll, Lewis. 1945. Alisa be'eretz ha-plaot. Translated by Avraham Aryeh
Akavya. Tel Aviv: Sreberk.
____. 1973. Alisa be'eretz ha-plaot. Translated by Bela Bar'am. Tel Aviv:
Massada.
____. 1976. Alisa be'eretz ha-plaot. Translated by Shulamit Lapid. Tel
Aviv: Yavneh.
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