From Through the Looking-Glass, by Lewis Carroll.

http://www.comixology.com/Huck-Finns-Adventures-in-Underland-1/digital-comic/DIG003329 

This comic series was my first foray into writing all-ages comic books. My previous work has been in many other genres: crime, horror, and the occasional thriller. As well as the silliness that shows up here on a weekly (we’re trying) basis. Some might call it comedy, some might not be as kind, and some might just spit in my general direction. In any event, let’s get back to the subject at hand, how Huck Finn’s Adventures in Underland came to be (Just in case you were wondering).

After a misstep or three, I decided to write this as an all-ages comic book, instead of a horror/fantasy, which it was originally intended to be. I was excited at the prospect of working on something that my children might actually be allowed to read. Not to mention, that I relished the opportunity of introducing them to Mark Twain, Lewis Carroll, H.P. Lovecraft, and especially Huckleberry Finn. In my mind, I imagined this comic book as my gift to them. What actually happened was a bit different.

As pages came in, and the comic book started to progress in the way they usually do (script, layouts, pencils, inks, colors, and letters), both of my boys began sharing in this developmental process with me. Popping in and out of the room, Peeking around me at the computer screen, and asking a never ending barrage of questions. All the while, I tried to patiently look over the beginning stages of pages, as well as the end product, when the time came. I didn’t realize it then, but looking back, they were actually—in their own unique ways—helping oversee the creation of this comic book.

And after each of the first three issues had finally been finished, we sat at the computer and read each one together—unfortunately, I don’t hold a candle to the master narrators at audible… although, I have picked up a few of their tricks.

My boys seemed to enjoy the first issue, and immediately had questions, as well as quite a few suggestions for the second issue. Which in turn, had me rethinking my future scripts just a tad. After reading the second issue, these suggestions only increased, as well as taking the occasional odd turn. And after the third issue, odd became the norm. Although, I must confess, I can’t say this surprised me.

After all, we’re talking about a four-year-old, and a six-year-old, who consider eating chicken nuggets and drooling over an endless marathon of SpongeBob SquarePants to be on par with heaven. Whereas, I would rather stick my head in a wood chipper, then listen to that spongy bastard barf words at me for any prolonged period of time. Chicken nuggets are okay, though.

Suffice it to say, not all of their ideas were home runs. Still, some of their input, and more importantly, the little moments that they took a special liking to, began to squeeze their way more and more into this comic. And what started as a rather straightforward mashup, went decidedly off course… a metamorphosis of sorts.

So, as of writing this (at five in the flipping morning), I’m proud to say that Huck Finn’s Adventures in Underland is definitely written by me. Its pencils and inks are most certainly handled with flair and dedication by Gabriel (Gabo) Peralta. Its colors are without question, blended beautifully by Felipe Gaona. Its letters have undoubtedly been placed with precision and care by Peter Simeti. And, its gorgeous covers are created with exquisite craftsmanship, by none other than the talented Brian Level.

But, it was Aleks and Maks who brought this book to life. And I hope you enjoy the series as much as we do working on it.

Thanks for reading,

Nik

Mother always said I was witty at a moment’s notice, but something tells me she wouldn’t appreciate that one. Sometimes, I can’t help the thoughts that crawl into my ear. It seems the traveling musician Mother hired for my sister, Eleanor’s wedding, has decided to hang himself on my favorite climbing tree. I stare at the bloated, blue figure until I hear footsteps crinkling and cracking the fallen leaves. I slowly turn around on my heels, making sure to plaster a frown to my face as the occasion merits sadness.

“Mary!” Mother curses, paling. Father and Eleanor are at the tail, but not quite close enough to fully realize the scene.
Father sets himself silently behind me. Then there’s a high-pitched squeal of terror from Eleanor. I turn around and witness her fainting. I try not to roll my eyes at her ridiculous sensitivity.

“Jaqueline, get away from there,” Mother finally notices me poking the corpse with a fallen branch. At her reprimand, I quickly drop the branch, backing slowly away on my toes.

“The wedding is ruined!” Mother says.

Yes, even though we all know Eleanor will surely die of shock once she finds out what is expected of her in the marriage bed! I chuckle inwardly at this thought, attracting everyone’s attention. They all stare at me and I curse myself for attracting their attentions.

“Do you not think now is an inappropriate time for a laugh?” Mother scolds me again. I immediately purse my lips into a solemn expression. Her threatening gaze lingers on me a moment longer.

“Sometimes, I think you’re possessed by the Devil, Jackie, ” my sister says, as she recovers from her shock, our maid, Isabel, fanning her as she lay in a pile of dead leaves.

“Now that’s quite enough! Everyone back in the house,” Father says, taking charge of the situation like the admiral he is.

Mother couldn’t be happier to herd Eleanor and me back to our samplers, and Eleanor couldn’t be happier to be led. I, on the other hand, am a bit miffed that I won’t be climbing trees this afternoon. I wish I wouldn’t have startled and screamed earlier, attracting everyone’s attention to the spot in the first place. I could have lived with the rotting corpse, probably. Damn depressive minstrel! I will have to find a way to escape an entire afternoon of sewing in mother’s parlor, while she writes letters to every musician, singer, and acting troupe in Edinburgh, trying to get a replacement in a week’s time. And how I loathe sewing! I hope they cut him down soon so that mother will let us go for a stroll in the garden. That way, I can slip away into the forest while Mother and Eleanor are “oohing and aahing” over the roses! It’s much too stuffy and dry inside and nice outside to sit and sew the whole afternoon.

*                                   *                                    *                                        *

I started working on this story series a few years ago when I had an account on Mibba, and have decided that perhaps I will give it another try. I will try to post the next chapters regularly.

During the  Tea Party in Alice in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter asks: “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

No answer is given in the book (would an author dare try that today?) and smart as Alice is she can’t figure it out.

Over the years academics have pondered the problem and some have come up with one possible answer:
‘Because Poe wrote on both’.

Have to admit, not exactly LOL funny, but you can read Edgar Allen Poe’s poem The Raven by clicking HERE.

Alice in Bedlam, written by The Green Room’s very own Katrina Case, and directed by Lauren Jacobs, was a unique and challenging show to produce for two main reasons. First, it was a “moveable feast” which means the audience physically moved from room to room depending on where each scene took place. Secondly, it was a found theater space. The production took place in an old mill in Taylors, SC. Both of these aspects presented unique challenges to the production crew, but they were used to enhance the story rather than distract you from it.

photo credit: Matt Jones

Let’s examine the story itself for just a moment. I found the adaptation from Lewis Carroll’s “Through the Looking Glass” to be quite fascinating. Upon entering Bedlam, a hospital for the mentally ill, the audience is met with loud screams and noises from the Bedlam patients scattered throughout the hospital. The character Charles Dodgson, played by Johnathan Schofield, has been admitted to Bedlam due to his unpredictable epileptic seizures. He is visited regularly by his sister, Lorina, and his niece, Alice, played by Diana Little and Jessica MacQuarrie respectively. When Charles sees Alice, he recounts poems of the sea and sands which the Walrus and the Carpenter could not possibly sweep up. Back at home, the audience meets Alice’s older sister, Sarah, and her Aunt Hannah, as well as Edna, the house maid. After an upsetting and difficult argument with Lorina, Alice questions her mother’s motivation for placing her Uncle Charles in Bedlam, and what her world would be like if there were true examples of love around her. “Through the Looking Glass” is alluded to when Alice describes her desire to experience the world in the looking glass – that world in the mirror which seems to be identical, yet so very different. Alice decides to go back to Bedlam the next day and bring her uncle back home with the help of her Aunt Hannah. Upon her return home, she challenges her mother’s practice of “love” towards others. Alice questions her mother’s “love” for her brother and even for herself and Sarah. The play concludes in a small chapel. Lorina and Charles have their first encounter outside of Bedlam and it is still difficult for her to embrace her brother, but the slow process of change has begun. Charles then concludes his tale of the Walrus and the Carpenter, clasps Alice’s hand, and they exit the scene. The play was well written and beautifully painted a picture of both the need for and practice of self-sacrificial love.

photo credit: Matt Jones

The vast space was used quite well. As an audience member I only had one small quibble with the space. Because it was so vast, there was a pretty noticeable and somewhat distracting echo in the Bedlam scenes. However, the actors compensated for this quite well and really made a deliberate effort to be clear with their words. The fact that it was an old mill with rust stains, broken windows, creaky floors, and pale green walls only added to the atmosphere of an unwelcoming insane asylum. The furniture used in Alice’s home adequately suggested the period as well as created a unique and visually appealing juxtaposition with the background of the mill walls and floor. Lighting of course was steady flood lighting. I would have liked to see colder lighting for the scenes in Bedlam rather than the warmer yellow hues that were used. Also, perhaps a different angle in which the lights were hung to create more shadows would have been an interesting choice. It wasn’t spectacle, but it was appropriately simple for the style of the production.

photo credit: Matt Jones

I absolutely loved the costume design. It was such an interesting collage of period dress, hint of steampunk, and modern design. The designer, Meghan Reimers, showed resourcefulness by transforming pieces that seemingly didn’t fit into the production design to create a beautiful ensemble. I found that the costumes were not over the top or out of touch with the overall style of the play. They were visually appealing but not distracting. Well done!

photo credit: Matt Jones

I thoroughly enjoyed my experience in Bedlam as I watched Alice and Charles’ story unfold. I completely forgot that I was standing for the entire time. I didn’t find the movement from scene to scene to be detracting from the flow of the play. The director handled those tricky transitions beautifully. I found myself disappointed at the end. No, not disappointed in the production, but disappointed that the story had already ended. I wanted to see more! I wanted to linger in the story, see more of those vivid and fascinating characters I had met in Bedlam, eavesdrop on more of the private conversations Alice had with herself as she wrote in her small journal, and hear more of Charles’ stories. I was fully caught up in the story and enjoyed the experience of moveable feast! Job well done to all who were involved!

photo credit: Matt Jones

By Jessica Bowers

I love full moon nights. How many full moons have there been in my life?

I am drawn outside by the full moon. I especially love sighting the moon through the branches of a tree, or seeing the moon over the waters of a lake or pond or sea.

Moonlight on water…as Lewis Carroll writes, “‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe.” For a long time I wondered what the word brillig meant, until I saw moonlight on water.

There is something about being under the moon, under the stars, and under the heavens that makes me feel so human, so connected with God. I look up in wonder, in thanksgiving, at the glory of God’s creation.

I am especially moved when migratory birds go by under the moon, calling out to each other, reminding me of our own journey home. That home can only be in God, who is, in words of R. Alan Culpepper, “always elusive, fleeting, dancing at the edge of our awareness and perceptions,” calling us to something more than the usual, the mundane, calling us to beauty, calling us to all things alive.

Beautiful and alive…. Now, I know you won’t argue with me about the moon’s beauty, but here’s a question for you: Is the moon dead or alive?

Let me whisper this to you, because it is a well-known secret: It is alive. It is a part of us, just as the sun and the stars and the planets are a part of us.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God,” John wrote. “He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.”

It is through Christ we are alive in a living universe, and we are alive in God.

 At night when I step out into the back yard, I am often greeted by the plaintive cry of the heron who has settled beside the pond across the street. As I raise my eyes to the moon breaking through the clouds overhead, I thank God for my gray, clumsy friend and for one more thing coming alive through Christ in me.

The world is alive with God’s presence. Indeed, as John has written, “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him.” But we may know.  We may know him by just lifting our eyes.

–Cedaredge, Colorado, 2002

I recently watched Alice in Wonderland for the millionth time, both the Disney animated version and the 1985 movie (featuring an all-star cast including Ringo Starr, Sammy Davis Jr., Shirley Winters, and Lloyd Bridges). This prompted me to break out the Lewis Carroll tome and delve deep into this most whimsical and wonder-filled tale. It occurred to me while watching both films, and subsequently reading the text, that Alice’s experiences in the strange land of Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass are not so unlike those of a nanny entering the world of kiddos.

• Children are like Cheshire Cats. At times when avoiding blame, evading responsibility, or simply through misunderstanding kiddos have a knack for bearing a striking resemblance to the cat with the disappearing/reappearing body, and the frustrating habit of never giving Alice a straight answer. As a Supernanny I know that sometimes I have to ask children exactly the right question or I may not get a sensible, or not nonsensical answer. I’ve learned to ask, “Did you spill the paint by accident?” is met with a more honest answer than, “Who spilled the paint?”
• Just like in Wonderland, Kiddoland is home to the order of opposites. While in Wonderland up is down, right is wrong, and nothing is as it seems, in Kiddoland when Rebel answers, “No wet diaper,” Doc explains that, “That means it is a wet diaper.” Curioser and curioser! Or as we say in Austin: Weirder and weirder!
• Upon arriving at a tea party, Alice is met with much rudeness by the Mad Hatter and the March Hare, not unlike how charges respond to nannies and supernannies alike at first. It takes time to win them over and imminent separation anxiety is the source of much resentment to even the cheeriest nanny in the beginning. I’ve had my fair share of mornings when I arrive excited to start my day, but am greeted by kiddos perched at the breakfast table eying me suspiciously, knowing that if I’m there, mommy/daddy won’t be for long…
• The Mad Hatter and March Hare’s penchant for taking words literally is another attribute also found in kiddos. When I asked Rebel to, “Say ‘yes’ nicely, Rebel,” he obliged saying, “Yes nicely Rebel.”
• Working with kiddos and trying to understand them is much like solving riddles. While Alice ponders the Mad Hatter’s query of, “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” I must listen closely for clues to answer the kiddos’ conundrums. One day, while unbuckling Doc from his car seat he told me, “My feet feel like sparkling bubbles.” I surmised after a few Cheshire Cat-minded questions that his feet had fallen asleep during the car ride home from the park.
• Alice receives an unlikely (and unwelcome) lesson in manners from the rather rude  twins, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum who seem happy to point Alice’s every misstep, oblivious to their own. I can recall one instance in particular when a five year-old scolded me similarly, “Miss Cheryl, you did NOT say please. You should mind your manners,” to which, not missing a beat, I countered, “With all the due deference I can muster for a boy with his finger shoved in his nose to the knuckle, you’re right, kiddo, ‘will you please use a tissue?’”
• Raging out like the Queen of Hearts is what we in the industry call tantrum-throwing, and just like with the Queen of Hearts, the source of fits can be something as arbitrary as roses the wrong color, or a nanny grabbing the wrong shirt/marker/snack.

Luckily, unlike Alice, a nanny can find her way out of Wonderland anytime she chooses through the reverse rabbit holes of reason and responsibility, and by remembering that even in Kiddoland, supernannies make the rules.

1985 movie version

The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright–
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done–
“It’s very rude of him,” she said,
“To come and spoil the fun!”

The sea was wet as wet could be,
The sands were dry as dry.
You could not see a cloud, because
No cloud was in the sky:
No birds were flying overhead–
There were no birds to fly.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Were walking close at hand;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of sand:
“If this were only cleared away,”
They said, “it would be grand!”

“If seven maids with seven mops
Swept it for half a year.
Do you suppose,” the Walrus said,
“That they could get it clear?”
“I doubt it,” said the Carpenter,
And shed a bitter tear.

“O Oysters, come and walk with us!”
The Walrus did beseech.
“A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Along the briny beach:
We cannot do with more than four,
To give a hand to each.”

The eldest Oyster looked at him,
But never a word he said:
The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
And shook his heavy head–
Meaning to say he did not choose
To leave the oyster-bed.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat–
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn’t any feet.

Four other Oysters followed them,
And yet another four;
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more, and more, and more–
All hopping through the frothy waves,
And scrambling to the shore.

The Walrus and the Carpenter
Walked on a mile or so,
And then they rested on a rock
Conveniently low:
And all the little Oysters stood
And waited in a row.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said,
“To talk of many things:
Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–
Of cabbages–and kings–
And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”

“But wait a bit,” the Oysters cried,
“Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
And all of us are fat!”
“No hurry!” said the Carpenter.
They thanked him much for that.

“A loaf of bread,” the Walrus said,
“Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
Are very good indeed–
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
We can begin to feed.”

“But not on us!” the Oysters cried,
Turning a little blue.
“After such kindness, that would be
A dismal thing to do!”
“The night is fine,” the Walrus said.
“Do you admire the view?

“It was so kind of you to come!
And you are very nice!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“Cut us another slice:
I wish you were not quite so deaf–
I’ve had to ask you twice!”

“It seems a shame,” the Walrus said,
“To play them such a trick,
After we’ve brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick!”
The Carpenter said nothing but
“The butter’s spread too thick!”

“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

“O Oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?’
But answer came there none–
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s manuscript of The Great Gatsby. [via]

Handwritten page of The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. [via]

Mark Twain’s handwritten manuscript pages from the beginning of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. [via]

A page from the manuscript of Sartre’s Nausea. [via]

From John Steinbeck’s handwritten manuscript of The Grapes of Wrath. [via]

From William Faulkner’s manuscript for A Light in August. [via]

A draft of Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. [via]

From Charles Dickens’s manuscript for A Christmas Carol. [via]

Lewis Carroll’s original manuscript for Alice’s Adventures Under Ground. [via]

A manuscript page from the 14th chapter of Arthur Conan Doyle’s Hound of the Baskervilles. [via]

The manuscript for Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary. [via]

Edith Wharton’s manuscript for The House of Mirth. [via]

A manuscript page from Franz Kafka’s The Trial. [via]

From W. Somerset Maugham’s manuscript for Of Human Bondage. [via]

The original manuscript of The Thousand and One Nights. [via]

First page of Vladimir Nabokov’s first draft of Invitation to a Beheading (Приглашение на Казнь). [via]

George Eliot’s manuscript of Middlemarch. [via]

Victor Hugo’s manuscript for The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Notre Dame de Paris). [via]

The first page of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise. [via]

Charlotte Brontë’s fair copy of Jane Eyre, written out by hand to be sent for publication. [via]

A manuscript page from Marilynne Robinson’s Gilead. [via]

The original manuscript of Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince (Il Principe). [via]

The last page from Marcel Proust’s manuscript of A la recherche du temps perdu. [via]

From Jane Austen’s original manuscript of Persuasion. [via]

Manuscript fragment of James Joyce’s Ulysses. [via]

Lady Lazarus

This 1991 film by experimental feminist filmmaker Sandra Lahire is centered around Sylvia Plath’s famous poem “Lady Lazarus,” taking its audio from Plath’s own reading of the poem, as well as “Cut,” “Daddy,” “Ariel,” and “Ouija,” as well as excerpts from a 1962 interview. Lahire describes the film, the first in a trilogy of Plath-related films she would shoot over the next few years, as “a visually woven response to Sylvia Plath’s own readings of her poetry… which celebrates her macabre humour and cinematic vision. A carousel of images in windows, an atmosphere of constant metamorphosis; her poetry as cinema.”

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

As you probably know, the Coen brothers’ 2000 comedy was based on Homer’s epic poem the Odyssey, with George Clooney as Ulysses Everett McGill, the modern Odysseus. Somewhat surprisingly, at the time of filming, neither brother had actually read the classic poem — in fact, the only person on set who had was actor Tim Blake Nelson, who holds a degree in Classics from Brown University.

Mulan

But of course — the favorite Disney film of those who like their princesses with sword in hand is based (however loosely, you know who we’re dealing with) on sixth-century Chinese poem the Ballad of Mulan.

The Nightmare Before Christmas

Tim Burton’s genre-busting classic began life as a poem written by the director in 1982, while he was working as an animator at Disney. Eight years later, he signed a deal with the company to turn the poem into a production, and everyone’s favorite Halloween/Christmas movie was born. Read the original poem here, or just listen above.

Braveheart

Fun fact: Mel Gibson’s best movie was based on an epic poem by 15th-century minstrel Blind Harry, entitled “The Actes and Deidis of the Illustre and Vallyeant Campioun Schir William Wallace,” or simply “The Wallace,” which sings of the life and deeds of Scottish freedom fighter William Wallace. In defending the historical accuracy of the script, writer Randall Wallace apparently said, “Is Blind Harry true? I don’t know. I know that it spoke to my heart and that’s what matters to me, that it spoke to my heart.”

The Man From Snowy River

Australian bush poet Banjo Paterson first published “The Man From Snowy River” — an exciting story of a horseback pursuit — in The Bulletin in 1890, and he and his poem are commemorated on the Australian ten-dollar note. They are also commemorated in two films, a silent black-and-white version released in 1920, and an award-winning 1982 drama, which held the dubious title of the most popular Australian film of all time until the release of Crocodile Dundee.

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The White Cliffs of Dover

This 1944 film was based on The White Cliffs, Alice Duer Miller’s unprecedentedly popular novel in verse. The long poem, which followed a young American girl who falls in love with an Englishman who goes off to fight in WWI, sold almost a million copies after its publication in 1940. Apparently, even Winston Churchill read it.

Beowulf

Okay, this is not a great film. But it seemed wrong not to include a mention of Beowulf here, given that it’s an Old English heroic epic written sometime between the eighth and 11th centuries that has somehow wiggled itself into our modern cultural consciousness. It has been adapted for the screen at least half a dozen times, including the above 2007 motion capture version written by Roger Avary and Neil Gaiman, which deviates rather wildly from the original text.

Jabberwocky

Terry Gilliam’s 1977 fantasy film is loosely based on Lewis Carroll’s famous nonsense poem of the same name, published in his 1871 novel Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There.

The Raven

Edgar Allan Poe’s most famous poem has seen numerous film adaptations, not to mention hundreds of nods and references across popular culture. Fun fact: Boris Karloff stars in both The Raven (1935) and The Raven (1963) — the two films only connected by title and references to Poe’s work (the former features an interpretive dance of the poem; the latter is a comedy). And that doesn’t take into account The Raven (1915) or The Raven (2012).

The first thing I would like to consider is abstraction in relation to numbers, which strikes me as being fundamental to the discovery of mathematics. To help us here we might imagine, in the style of Wittgenstein, a couple of ‘primitive societies’ whose use of number differs from our own.

In the first, counting is only ever done in the presence of objects: these people have no notion of mental arithmetic or ‘counting in your head’ – to say ‘1, 2, 3, 4’ when there is nothing there to count would seem to them as bizarre as if I were to say ‘monkey hat potato bicycle’ out of the blue, with none of these things being present. For them, numbers are not at all abstract – they are a property of concrete objects, unthinkable apart from them.

The next society takes the view (not unreasonably) that only similar things can be counted: sacks of wheat, say, or earthenware oil jars in a storehouse can be enumerated, but if someone is confronted by a dozen objects all different, he will point to each in turn and say ‘one, one, one…’  on the grounds that they are all different, so don’t amount to anything together. After all, no-one can say that a jar of oil is the same as a sack of wheat, can they? That would be absurd! Then one day someone, in a flash of inspiration, sees that although the objects are different, the ‘ones’ are the same, so a second teller is introduced to count the number of times the first says ‘one’ (perhaps by making marks on a slate). He is then able to say ‘there are twelve ones there’.

This will give rise to a joke, a riddle: ‘why is a monkey like a hat?’ to which the answer will be ‘because they’re both one!’ (at which all laugh heartily). (You might even imagine quick children demonstrating this to their slow parents – monkey = 1; hat = 1; 1=1, so monkey = hat! – and the parents being amazed at their children’s sagacity – ‘the things they learn in school these days!’). (Come to think of it, that might be the solution to the Mad Hatter’s riddle, ‘why is a raven like a writing desk?’ – Lewis Carroll (or rather C L Dodgson) was a mathematician)

But what interests me here is that this is the beginning of abstraction, to see that one of anything is equal to one of anything else, at least as far as counting goes – it is the dawning of the realisation that you can carry out operations with numbers without reference to what they are ‘numbers of’.

Full abstraction is the emancipation of number: it is no longer the property of objects, it is something in its own right. Nobody asks ‘what does 1 stand for here?’ or on being told to add five and five, demands ‘five of what?’ And it is when you reach that stage that you begin to discover the amazing things that you can do with numbers, the complex network of relationships that exists between them.

Another interesting thing has happened here: we have extended the meaning of ‘existence’, discovered a new order of reality. Numbers seem to exist just as surely as ravens and writing desks – if not more so – yet not in the same way. We feel sure that the propositions of arithmetic, and all the other properties of numbers, hold good always and everywhere; if all knowledge of them was lost, we feel sure they could be discovered again and that they would be the same – in fact, they seem to be unchanging and imperishable. It is little wonder that Pythagoras and his followers made a religion of them.

Which gives rise to some interesting speculation: what other properties can we abstract from their original setting and treat as things in their own right? will those exist in the same way that numbers seem to? and will they form part of a complex network of relationships that stands to them as mathematics does to number? In particular, is this something that we can do with language and words?

Could be worth investigating further, maybe. But meantime, at least you know why a raven is like a writing desk.

Strawdog’s Hugen Hall jumps through the looking glass with this impossible production featuring a cast of 12, Jaberwockies, Bandersnatches and SNARKS!

CHICAGO – Anderson Lawfer, artistic director of Strawdog Theatre Company’s Hugen Hall, is proud to announce the world premiere of The Hunting Of The Snark, based on the poem by Lewis Carroll and directed by Josh Sobel, May 6 – May 28 at Strawdog Theatre Hugen Hall, 3829 North Broadway Street. The performance schedule is Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays at 8 p.m.; May 20 and 21 performances are at 9 p.m. Opening/Press Night is Monday, May 6 at 8 p.m. Tickets are $15. Tickets may be ordered online at strawdog.org or by calling OvationTix toll-free: 866-811-4111.

Based on the classic Lewis Carroll poem, The Hunting Of The Snark, is a family friendly show inviting its guests to come aboard for a tall tale of mischief and mayhem, of high sea hijinks and impossible voyages, of an improbable crew and an extraordinary task, of an inconceivable creature in a peculiar land, and of the unquenchable thirst for adventure. A design and ensemble-based piece mixing theatrical influences from Chicago and around the world; Strawdog stretches, flexes, trips over a ladder and treats the audience to a hilarious and touching take on one of the world’s best loved poems.

“Lewis Carroll’s larger-than-life and nonsensical poem just begs to be brought to life, and I’m beyond excited to have the chance to do so with Strawdog,” says director Josh Sobel. “This is a magnificently imaginative, funny and harrowing story of adventure and tomfoolery, and we are taking the opportunity to up the ante on the imagination factor. Presenting the tale of this fantastical hunt environmentally in the intimate Hugen Hall, using minimal props and maximum creativity, we look forward to letting the story, the characters, and the audience’s imagination all run wild.”

The cast features some of Chicago’s brightest young talent including Andrew Bailes (Banker), Emily Gann (Barrister), Sarah Rose Graber (Baker), Kaitlyn Majoy (Bonnets), Errol McLendon (Narrator), Julia Meese (Beaver), Michael Mercier (Bellman), Casey Pilkenton (Butcher), Ed Porter (Boots), Alexis Randolph (Bard), Christian Stokes (Billiard-maker) and Suzanna Ziko (Broker).

The production team features Michelle Underwood (projection design), Gregor Mortis (sound design), Nic Dimond (set design), Jeffrey Glass (lighting design), Joanna Melville (costume design), Aileen McGroddy (movement director), Leah Tirado (music director), Kelsey Rhiann Shipley (assistant stage manager), Alex Huntsberger (dramaturg/assistant director), Michelle Maier (stage manager) and Morgan Gire (production manager).

ABOUT LEWIS CARROLL

The Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (January 27, 1832 –J January 14, 1898), better known by the pen name Lewis Carroll, was an English author, mathematician, logician, Anglican clergyman and photographer. His most famous writings are Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and its sequel Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There as well as the poems "The Hunting of the Snark" and "Jabberwocky". His writings have delighted audiences ranging from children to the literary elite, and his work has become embedded deeply in modern culture, directly influencing many diverse authors and artists.

ABOUT JOSH SOBEL, director

Josh Sobel currently serves as Literary Manager of Strawdog Theatre Company and has worked administratively with Victory Gardens Theater, A Red Orchid Theatre, New Leaf Theatre and Redtwist Theatre. Chicago directing credits include The Xylophone West (Fine Print), American Agency (Abbie-Fest XXIII), Still Life Of A Moving Picture (Reading, New Leaf), and pieces in The One-Minute Play Festival (Victory Gardens) and Chicago Madness (Mortar/Pegasus). Assistant credits include work at The Eugene O’Neill Theater Center, Victory Gardens, A Red Orchid, Bohemian Theatre Ensemble, New Leaf, and The State. Upcoming directing projects include Miracles In The Fall at Polarity Ensemble Theatre and Bethlehem by Octavio Solis at Proxy Theatre Company (San Antonio, TX). Sobel is the recipient of a Stage Directors and Choreographers Foundation Observership on Hamlet at Writers’ Theatre and is an Associate Member of SDC. He served as associate director of the National Theater Institute summer Theatermakers program from 2010 – 2012, and currently teaches Dramatic Literature at Shimer College.

ABOUT ANDERSON LAWFER, Hugen Hall Artistic Director

Anderson Lawfer is a Strawdog Company Member since 2002, appearing recently in Conquest of the South Pole and The Master & Margarita. He also directed Hugen Hall’s critically acclaimed Pontypool and Kill Shakespeare. He is the host of Theatre Wars! at Strawdog and the late night hit The Game Show Show…and Stuff! Lawfer is also the curator of the Chicago theatre insider blog “Eric and Andy’s Reviews You Can Iews.”

ABOUT STRAWDOG THEATRE COMPANY

Since its founding in 1988, Strawdog Theatre Company has offered Chicagoland the premiere storefront theatre experience and garnered numerous Non-Equity Jeff Awards with its commitment to ensemble acting and an immersive design approach. The celebrated Company develops new work, re-imagines the classics, melds music with theatre, asks provocative questions and delivers their audience the unexpected.

The current Strawdog ensemble includes Hank Boland, Michael Dailey, Anita Deely, Paul Fagen, John Ferrick, Kyle Gibson, Sarah Goeden, Aly Greaves Amidei, Carmine Grisolia, Kyle Hamman, Tom Hickey, Shannon Hoag, Jordan Kardasz, Anderson Lawfer, Sean Mallary, Kat McDonnell, Joanna Melville, Gregor Mortis, Mike Mroch, Michaela Petro, Mike Przygoda, John Henry Roberts, Justine C. Turner, and Jamie Vann. Strawdog’s Interim artistic director is Hank Boland and general manager is Mike Mroch. Notable Strawdog alums include Elizabeth Auman (TimeLine), Alexandra Billings (actress, cabaret star), Nancy Bishop (casting director), Chrisanne Blankenship (director), Becca Cardo (voice-over artist), Kristin Caskey (Fox Theatricals), Scott Cummins (actor, director) and James Denton (Desperate Housewives).

ON STRAWDOG’S MAIN STAGE:

Big Love by Charles L. Mee
Directed by Matt Hawkins

April 21 – May 25

Strawdog Theatre Company, 3829 North Broadway Ave.

Strawdog.org

Tickets: $15 Students/Seniors/Previews; $28 Regular; Benefit Preview $50

Schedule: Previews: Thursday, April 18 and Friday, April 19 at 8 p.m.; Benefit Preview Saturday, April 20 at 7 p.m.

Regular Run: Thursdays – Saturdays at 8 p.m.; Sundays at 4 p.m.

The term “battle of the sexes” gets a whole new meaning when a group of brides-to-be on the run from the altar face down their jilted grooms at an Italian villa. Strawdog Artistic Associate Matt Hawkins, director of The House Theatre’s Cyrano and Strawdog’s award winning smash hit Red Noses returns (triumphantly) to the mainstage with Mee’s poetic, madcap riff on love, violence and gender roles.

All productions, plus ongoing late night offerings, are presented at Strawdog’s space in the heart of Chicago’s Lakeview neighborhood, 3829 N. Broadway Street. Tickets are available at .773.528.9696 or www.strawdog.org.

The neighborhood has limited paid parking and is easily accessible by public transportation (via the Red Line Sheridan stop, plus 36-Broadway, 80-Irving Park, and 151-Sheridan buses).

The Hunting Of The Snark, based on the poem by Lewis Carroll and directed by Josh Sobel, May 6 – May 28 at Strawdog Theatre Hugen Hall, 3829 North Broadway Street. The performance schedule is Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays at 8 p.m.; May 20 and 21 performances are at 9 p.m. Opening/Press Night is Monday, May 6 at 8 p.m. Tickets are $15. Tickets may be ordered online at strawdog.org or by calling OvationTix toll-free: 866-811-4111.

# # #

Strawdog Theatre Company is supported in part by The Richard H. Driehaus Foundation, the Gaylord and Dorothy Donnelley Foundation, the Alphawood Foundation, Chicago Department of Cultural Affairs, the Illinois Arts Council (a state agency) and the annual support of businesses and individuals.[end]

Question from TheAsian : http://theasianreloaded.wordpress.com
How much wood could a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?

This is an answer you have to hear, not read:  How much wood?

Question from DavidPatrickOC : http://davidpatrickoconnor.wordpress.com
I find the little imperfections in myself are what make me, if you could change (only a small one, nothing too deep) a habit, tic or physical flaw- mental blip, etc what would it be and what would you like it to become? If you were to ask your partner, what would he suggest…if he had sense he will say change nothing.

I agree with you about imperfections! I’m partial to even my smallest flaws.  There is something to be said for positive change, though.   I suppose if I could change anything, it would be my willingness to be in the spotlight. Sometimes I am afraid that my desire to stay out of the spotlight has caused suffering– maybe I could have helped solve problems if I took the flashier roles offered to me.

Dave, of course, would say I was already practically perfect in every way.

Nah, just kidding.  Dave and I started our relationship as friends and business partners, and the honesty that goes along with those roles has never diminished– not even when we became more.

If Dave was going to change something about me, it’d be my willingness to be completely ignorant on certain topics.  It’s not unusual to hear me say something completely daffy about the things I don’t really care about– football, science, driving, dogs, gardening.  For example, the other day I realized I didn’t know how lightning is created.  There are random chunks of knowledge missing from my brain for no other reason than I wasn’t interested enough at the time when I should have learned it.  The worst part is, once I decide it’s not important to me, it stays unimportant to me (usually).  So even after Dave painstakingly described lightning to me, I still couldn’t tell you why it happens.

Though I could probably make up a decent story about it…

How is a raven like a writing desk? And, what advice would you give fledgling bloggers as far as making connections and finding an audience?

I always feel like it’s a slight to Lewis Carroll to answer his nonsensical riddle with anything other than “I haven’t the slightest idea” or “Monkey sushi trainset balooza!”.  But there are two answers to this riddle (not created by me) that I’ve always been fond of: “Poe wrote on both”, and “Because there is a B in both and a N in neither”.  Ah, wit. It is my favorite of characteristics.

I still feel like a fledgling blogger myself (a blodgling?).  Every blogger has different readers, and wants different types of readers, so universal rules usually don’t apply– but I do have one that does:  Fall a little bit in love with your readers.  Every single one.

If you do that, you’ll never undervalue them.  You’ll stop worrying about spam, pingbacks, copyright, word count, etc.  You’ll love their friends for loving them, and then their friends will probably love you for the same.  You’ll see your readers clearer– as their idealized self– and you’ll better sense how to talk to them and reach them, using the topics you already want to write about.

All that love will push you out into the ‘sphere more, and there you’ll find all sorts of wondrous folk just waiting for a reason to fall a little bit in love with you right back.

Good luck!

_________________________________________________________

You can ask anything you want, too– the Riddle Me This post is still open for questions.

And as they say, it’s only a matter of time. Only a matter of time before I gather my wits and find my way back to reality. But I suppose it’ll just have to wait. After all, who’s to say this isn’t reality? Maybe it’s only my perception that’s gone all wonky. Maybe I’m alright… If I could get a damn moment of peace to just sleep. Just a few minutes, just to rest my eyes. That would be enough. And enough is all I need…

Blair Taggart is a man of few words and less coherence, an advertiser by name and writer by lifestyle. He jots down his travels in what he calls Every-mans Land, a place that even he isn’t quite sure really exists. The more he progresses through his writing, falling deeper and deeper into this strange, unearthly place all his own, the more alienated Blair becomes while not lost in his own imagination. Blair finds himself wondering if a man can make a living of obsession… or insanity.  Hell, he always has been an optimist.

Uncharted territory is a work of complete fiction. Any references to real persons or places are completely coincidental.

~Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

If you like this quote, please subscribe to my blog for similar quotes

For now, this is perfectly appropriate for today.

He thought he saw a Buffalo
  Upon the chimney-piece:
He looked again, and found it was
  His Sister’s Husband’s Niece.
“Unless you leave this house,” he said,
  ”I’ll send for the Police!”

He thought he saw a Rattlesnake
  That questioned him in Greek:
He looked again, and found it was
  The Middle of Next Week.
“The one thing I regret,” he said,
  ”Is that it cannot speak!”

He thought he saw a Banker’s Clerk
  Descending from the bus:
He looked again, and found it was
  A Hippopotamus.
“If this should stay to dine,” he said,
  ”There won’t be much for us!”

He thought he saw a Kangaroo
  That worked a coffee-mill:
He looked again, and found it was
  A Vegetable-Pill.
“Were I to swallow this,” he said,
  ”I should be very ill!”

He thought he saw a Coach-and-Four
  That stood beside his bed:
He looked again, and found it was
  A Bear without a Head.
“Poor thing,” he said, “poor silly thing!
  It’s waiting to be fed!”

He thought he saw an Albatross
  That fluttered round the lamp:
He looked again, and found it was
  A Penny-Postage Stamp.
“You’d best be getting home,” he said:
  ”The nights are very damp!”

He thought he saw a Garden-Door
  That opened with a key:
He looked again, and found it was
  A Double Rule of Three:
“And all its mystery,” he said,
  ”Is clear as day to me!”

He thought he saw a Argument
  That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
  A Bar of Mottled Soap.
“A fact so dread,” he faintly said,
  ”Extinguishes all hope!”

- Lewis Carroll

Poking out of the dream layer that covers Sylvie and Bruno are stanzas from this poem, which, with its mathematical structure and deadpan delivery, almost becomes the most sensible part of an otherwise fantastical story. Actually, the poem is the invention of a mad gardener who hobbles throughout the fairytale and delivers his song in short spurts (its stanzas sometimes separated by several chapters).

“The Mad Gardener’s Song” is Carroll’s last masterpiece, a nonsense poem that seems to, somehow, make its own sense. It embodies the duality of a man obsessed with mathematics — logical, knowable, systematic — and the extreme mystery of religion and God. A simple, solid structure runs underneath: x sees y; y is actually z. The structure is so strong that by the end, even if the reader feels uneasy about the impossibility of the imagery or the stacking of the non sequiturs, the poem’s logic begins to feel natural, as if the poem has answered its own absurd questions, or has at least invited the reader to relax and not worry about sense. To quote the last stanza:

He thought he saw a Argument
  That proved he was the Pope:
He looked again, and found it was
  A Bar of Mottled Soap.
“A fact so dread,” he faintly said,
  ”Extinguishes all hope”

When the Pope, who is possibly the most well-know living religious figure in the world and whom Carroll calls an “Argument” (for the duality of the known and unknown?), enters the stanza only to turn into soap, which is slippery and hard-to-grasp, the reader is forced to “extinguish all hope” in understanding all that the Pope represents. It is as if Carroll is telling the reader to accept that there are things that will always remain ungraspable, and that these things fall outside science and math and are better placed in the realm of the metaphysical. And this, of course, reflects the poems itself with its unbelievable images and silent structure ticking beneath.

“And all its mystery,” he said,
  ”Is clear as day to me!” ]]> http://bookreviewsbycharles.wordpress.com/2013/04/26/alices-adventures-in-wonderland-carroll/ Fri, 26 Apr 2013 02:19:28 +0000 cellenbogen http://bookreviewsbycharles.wordpress.com/2013/04/26/alices-adventures-in-wonderland-carroll/ Yes, I admit it. I had never read it before. I was certainly familiar with parts of it – the classic set pieces – but I’d never read the whole thing. It was interesting to read it out loud to the kids. I’m not sure they liked it, at least not as much as The Hobbit. And it’s funnier than I expected; there are a fair number of sly jokes that must have been inserted for adults. My proof that I hadn’t read it. I knew nothing about the ending (which I won’t spoil here). So, yes, it’s a good read aloud. The moments are evocative and funny. The illustrations help. Through the Looking Glass is next.

The Torah portion for this week is Emor, from Leviticus 21:1—24:23 and the Haftorah from Ezekiel 44:15–31.

There is a great quote from Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland” with a profound message. Alice has arrived at a crossroads and she doesn’t know which path to choose, so she asks advice from a Cheshire cat sitting in the trees: “Which road do I take?” she asks. “Where do you want to go?” the cat responds. “I don’t know,” Alice answers.” “Then it doesn’t matter,” says the cat.

If you don’t know where you want to go in life, then you can take any path at all, even those that may lead you to places you never intended – or wanted – to be.

This week’s Torah portion ends with the tragic story of a man who blasphemed God’s name and was punished by death. The story begins: “Now the son of an Israelite mother and an Egyptian father went out among the Israelites, and a fight broke out in the camp between him and an Israelite.” If we translate the verse, phrase by phrase, exactly as it is written in the original Hebrew, the verse is slightly different. It reads: “And he went out, the son of an Israelite mother and an Egyptian father, among the Israelites . . ..”

This slight nuance prompts the Sages to ask: Where did this fellow go? The verse says “And he went out,” but it doesn’t tell us anything about where he was headed – only that he was “among the Israelites.”

The Sages suggest that perhaps this ill-fated man had no idea where he was going either. They see him as a lost soul, hinted at by his mixed lineage – part Egyptian, part Israelite. Perhaps he himself didn’t know who he was or what he truly believed. This man was without direction in life.

And as often occurs in life today, when people have no direction, they sometimes end up on roads that lead them astray. If this poor soul had a destination in mind when he “went out” perhaps he would have passed by the fight that led him to curse God and he might have lived. But once he got off track and made a wrong turn, he started down a dangerous road and was ultimately lost forever.

The tale of the blasphemer is a cautionary one. It warns us of the consequences about speaking against God and also the danger of living life without direction. We need to be crystal clear about where we are headed in life if we want to ensure that we stay on the right track. Every decision we make and every step that we take ought to be guided by our desired destination. Wherever we go, let’s make sure that we are headed toward God.

http://www.holylandmoments.org/devotionals/living-with-direction

There are plenty of proverbs (both Biblical and otherwise) that point out the strength both physical and mental of something apparently tiny and weak.  In many cases it is through working together as a team that they make their achievements, in some they work alone but the point is that the appearance is deceptive. Just because something looks weak or its challenge looks impossible doesn’t mean that it is.

We all have the same words, granted some people invent their own, Edward Lear and Lewis Carroll were particularly prolific word generators and there is hardly a family in the land that doesn’t have its own shorthand for even the most everyday items.  We, for example, put our dirty dishes in the washdisher.  But on the whole we communicate using a prescribed set of mutually understood words.  There is nothing special about our words.  They have no innate power to change.  But change they do.

It is when they are placed together in a certain way that they power behind them is intensified.

I tried to think of some novels that had changed me, made me behave differently or changed my views or way of thinking.  It was very hard, I could think of a plethora of novels that I love, that I read again and again.  But had they changed me?  I didn’t know.  Then it occurred to me that perhaps I was not meant to know.  If I knew then the change would have been more superficial.  For the change to be fundamental, to really change me then I would not notice the change for the change would be of me.

But what about novels that change not just individuals but whole nations?  Can there be such novels.  Of course, essays and non-fiction can and do.  From Mein Kampf to The Age of Uncertainty writers have set out to change individuals and nations.  But do novelists aim to do the same?  Or do we just want to tell a story?