One would think the world on the other side of the looking-glass is an exact reflection of our own world. How boring and unimaginative we adults must be to think so! As Alice soon finds out, it’s as different from our world as could be.

Once again Lewis Carroll plays with words – he can’t help himself. “There is nothing like it” might sound like a figure of speech at first – but then we find out he means it literally: a nice bit of fun for the natives, I daresay, and a good exercise for a foreign reader. Yet, once again, I feel sorry for the translators.

I couldn’t say why, but I feel a little sad as I follow Alice through the looking-glass world – something I never felt when reading the “Wonderland” book. There is something melancholy in the air, like saying good-bye to one’s childhood, which is weird, because Alice is just seven and a half, and the best part of her childhood is still waiting for her. Is it Lewis Carroll’s emotion that makes its way into the imaginary world on the other side of the mirror – or is it just me? I don’t know. It’s probably coming from the Russian cartoon based on the book, which I used to watch often together with my daughter when she was very little.

It’s a beautiful book all the same, and I enjoy every line of it, especially the dialogues. It says a lot about the author’s writing skills, I should think, because the dialogues have to be the hardest part of the art of writing. In Lewis Carroll’s hands they become as sweet as music and as captivating as unsolved mysteries. Lewis Carroll’s books are a great mystery as they are.

Talking flowers, invented words, goods in a store which move away when the customer looks at them, a Knight who can’t ride his horse and even the ill-tempered Red Queen – why is it so hard to let them go, as if they were the best friends I’d ever had? Why does a fairy tale meant for children tell so much to someone who has already a child of her own? How do those simple words weave such a strong spell over a reader? And the book isn’t even very long…

Do I just miss my own childhood? My conscious mind says no, but there must be a reason for the nostalgic feeling that Lewis Carroll’s books awaken in my heart.

I remember how I first found this book in a local library when I was just starting to read in English. “Alice” was so easy to read – so much easier than most of the books I could find. And yet – who was it who said that it would be easier to move London than to translate “Alice”? I have to agree with it, because the book is full of puns built around English words that are spelled differently, but pronounced the same or very similar (“tale” – “tail”, “tortoise” – “taught us”, “porpoise” – “purpose”, etc…) and funny verses slightly similar to well-known English verses, but in fact mocking them. These would have to be rewritten in every language “Alice” is translated to, still keeping the same mocking similarity to their originals translated into the same language.

But the book is so famous and so loved that it was translated into many languages – there are, for example, several Russian translations available to this day, and my daughter has some of them. Still, they could never compete with the original.

While re-reading the book for the purpose of reviewing it, I still laughed hard at the fussy White Rabbit, touchy Mouse, ferocious Queen fond of beheading and the ridiculous trial, which, I’m told, parodies the real proceedings of the author’s time (and I’m not sure that modern ones are much better than that). I can imagine that the deep philosophical question of whether it’s possible to behead someone or something that has a head but no body could cause a serious and heated debate in certain circles. There’s definitely more in Cheshire Cat than meets the eye – and I must admit that he is my favourite character in this book.

But what I love best about the book on the whole is the air of joyful, unspoiled purity that only a child’s dream can possess. Lewis Carroll – definitely not a child at the time of writing – has done a great job of it. His book effectively pulls me out of my winter blues any day and within a few minutes – just as soon as I visualise a cake with “Eat me” written upon it.

I believe this particular fairy tale is not meant for very little kids: not under nine at any rate. But it’s very good for adults of any age, for as long as they have their inner child, however deep it mignt be hiding.