Abstract

Abstract:

The two Alice books (Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass) have, from my earliest childhood, supplied the metaphors, images, and phrases with which I have explained my life to myself. The themes of hallucinogenic mushrooms and dreams dreamt have inspired several of the books I have written. Alice's ambivalence about eating creatures with whom she has conversations has haunted my own guilty carnivoraciousness. The forest where things have no names eases my own encroaching lethologica and prosopagnosia. And all the gentle jokes about death comfort me as I approach the end of this particular dream.

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