Alice in Wonderland was my favorite story growing up. The mishmash of strange creatures, the curiosities of Wonderland, I found such beauty in the strangeness of it all. I’m not really sure why it had such a profound impact on me as a child. Possibly because I was looked at with such disdain and fear by my fellow classmates or studied like a curious specimen by doctors. I just felt at home in the original books, and the Disney adaptation. I even wanted to change my name to Alice when I got older.
When the Tim Burton adaptation came out, everyone jumped on the Alice in Wonderland train. It was amazing, seeing the piece I loved get so much recognition. However, like everything I love, I encountered gatekeepers right off the bat (see my article Gatekeeping Doesn’t Make You A God, It Just Makes You An Asshole). It saddened me, seeing people shamed for their love of a world full of curiosities. I wasn’t the only one who found the world beautiful, and it didn’t matter that these people only cared about the Tim Burton adaptation. They still shared in a love of mine, and that was all that mattered.
One of my favorite book series is a sort of spin-off from the original Carroll books. They’re by A.G. Howard and follow the descendants of Alice Liddell, after she came back from her trip down the Rabbit Hole.
I would love to see any one of the adaptations of Wonderland be real. As a kid, I’d pretend I went down the Rabbit Hole and had tea parties with the characters. As an adult, I’d love to write an adaptation myself one day. Creating worlds is a favorite pastime of mine, and I love exploring odd cultures and customs within them.
