There was a book lying near Alice on the table and while she sat watching the White King (for she was still a little anxious about him, and had the ink all ready to throw over him, in case he fainted again), she turned over the leaves, to find some part that she could read, "--for it's all in some language I don't know", she said to herself. .
It was like this. .
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She puzzled over this for some time, but at last a bright thought struck her. "Why, it's a Looking-glass book, of course! And if I hold it up to a glass, the words will all go the right way again." .
This was the poem that Alice read . .
. "It seems very pretty", she said when she had finished it, "but it's rather hard to understand!" (You see, she didn't like to confess, even to herself, that she couldn't make it out at all.) "Somehow it seems to fill my head with ideas--only I don't exactly know what they are! However, somebody killed something: that's clear, at any rate--" .
--Through The Looking Glass, Lewis Carroll .
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A very interesting poem is this one indeed. Translated into almost as many languages as the number of meanings the poem can have for us. Interpreted by many, this is no easy task. Therefore I shall not try, but even something written and not interpreted can be explained. What is underlined in the above is just as an appropriate starting place as is anywhere else.
Tales-- tall and short, stories, movies, books, epics, and poems made throughout our history have mentioned a story as old as the universe: the triumph of good over evil. These tales often speak of boys facing demons, monsters and other representations of evil. Devil, evil, demon, Satan, gargoyles, and poltergeists are all words that have a dark connotation to us. Much like the words Jabberwock, beware JubJub, and Frumious Bandersnatch sound demonic. "However, somebody killed something: that's clear, at any rate" In the poem, the main character, the beamish boy, seeks out a catlike character deemed Jabberwock.
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He takes the time to luxuriate in the natural beahty of the island: the "cool shade"(36) provided by the trees, the serenity of "a couple of squirrels"(36) who "jabbered at [him] very friendly"(36) as he laid back, "powerful lazy and comfortable"(36). ...
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The setting of Samuel Beckett's Waiting For Godot is much like Jean-Paul Sartre's portrait of an existential hell in the play No Exit, in that in both, torture is not physical pain, but the monotony and meaninglessness of waiting for nothing. In Waiting For Godot, Vladimir and Estragon repeatedly ...
