Quetzalcoatl

I started reading this to my daughter when she was a few months old in her playroom/my library (my playroom!). She was listening intently but then she started crawling and, well, all the nice playing went to pot. She wants to get everywhere. So, I finished the little book at nighttime when I’d get into bed. I’d dissolve into a world unlike any other. I was transported into the trusted, childhood memories of our favourite characters such as the white rabbit and the mad hatter. The imagery is surreal, the world we are transfixed by reminds me of the nonsense poems that I’d read in my first year of studying poetry at school, like Jabberwocky. The nights I’d read this book, I was able to remove myself from weaning, sleeping cues, nap times, play time, and able to morph into a new world that was all my own creation. Well, Carroll helped me, but it was still mine and I was still Alice. Most of the time, though, I did realise how obnoxious Alice is and how confident she was. It’s remind...