Escapees from an Exhibition: Some Curious “Alice in Wonderland” Items…

Alice once fell asleep and she was dreaming. / When she awoke, she started screaming... "Jabberwocky: Novelty Fox Trot Song," [©1921]. (Cotsen SM 1965)

Alice once fell asleep and she was dreaming. /
When she awoke, she started screaming… “Jabberwocky: Novelty Fox Trot Song,” [©1921]. (Cotsen SM 1965)

Exhibitions of illustrated books, manuscripts, ephemera and other “curiosities” are great ways of highlighting certain aspects of “rare” collections that usually don’t otherwise see the light of day. This is certainly true for items relating to Alice in Wonderland, due to the book’s ongoing popularity and all the “variations on the original theme” by later illustrators, pop-up book designers, and manufacturers of collateral marketing paraphernalia. Imagine seeing a Through the Looking Glass biscuit tin once owned by Lewis Carroll’s sister! Or depictions of Alice as a 1920s flapper girl or as grown-up woman waking from a nightmare dream in a musical score. Or a number of later illustrators’ reinterpretations of John Tenniel’s original illustrations for Alice.

One problem, though, is that an exhibition (particularly a “live” one) can never accommodate everything. There are usually just too many books and items to display them all! Selecting from among all these items was one of the (fun) challenges in curating Cotsen’s “Alice after Alice” exhibition, which will soon be ending its run (extended from its original July 15 end-date). With that in mind, I thought it might be amusing to feature here some of the “also-rans” and items that we just didn’t have room for in the display cases.

First up, is perhaps Cotsen Library’s smallest version of Alice, measuring just 7 cm (2 ¾ inches) in height: a 1998 Russian edition, Alisa v strane chudes. The pictorial paper dust-jacket shows a smiling Alice with a somewhat modern, but essentially timeless look — fitting perhaps with the timeless beginning of Alice: “All in the golden afternoon…”

Minaiture Book version of Alice

Cover of Russian miniature edition of “Alice” — Alisa v strane chudes — with a penny for size comparison (Cotsen 153255)

Alice

Alice as imagined by illustrator Ekaterina Shishlova

But things really get interesting when we open the book and see Ekaterina Shishlova’s language-transcending, process-printed color illustrations, which accompany the Russian text. In one, Alice herself is shown as a doe-eyed, brown-haired girl, full of perplexity, when trying to decide what to make of the key after she tumbles down into Wonderland. An interesting ‘take” on a character depicted many different ways by various illustrators in the 150 years since the first edition (a number of which were featured in the “Alice after Alice” exhibition)..

But I think Shishlova’s real genius manifests itself in her depictions of Alice tumbling down into Wonderland and a too-large Alice peeking through the tiny door.

timblign alice

Alice tumbles down into Wonderland

In the first, Alice seems to be tumbling down into a well-cum-malestrom, along with a framed picture (the river-bank scene where her sister had been reading to her?) and some leaves from tree Alice was sitting under; you can almost feel the downward motion! Note the tiny circle of sunny sky at the top of the well. And how about Alice’s hand, foregrounded so it looks like the disembodied hand of some giant? Brilliant!

Alice4-Russian2

“Big” Alice peering though the tiny door…

I also particularly like Shishlova’s depiction of Alice peering through the door she’s too big to go through before swigging from the “Drink Me” bottle. The garden seems full of mysterious plants, befitting an enchanted place; and note the hint of red from the Queen of Hearts garden to come.  And how about Alice’s huge eye peering through the door? While great in and of itself, this illustration seems especially perfect for a miniature book!  A big eye peering into a brave new miniature world…

"I'm late, I'm late..."

I’m late, I’m late…

Other wonderful depictions of Wonderland characters in this book include the White Rabbit, wearing what looks like a red-and-blue livery of some sort with a giant floppy hat, mouth agape, and holding his packet-watch, which looms large in the foreground and features a cameo portrait of a harridan-like woman. Is it the Queen of Hearts?

Queen of Hearts

Shishlova’s Queen of Hearts

Speaking of the Queen, take a look at Shishlova’s reimagining of her — a comically scary figure, recalling the proverbial evil step-mother of fairy tales, here with a fawning courtier draped over her. Definitely recognizable as the Queen of Hearts, but also quite distinctive, in the best tradition of illustrators’ reimaginings of Tenniel’s originals!

Apart from the specific delights of this tiny Russian edition, it also serves as a reminder that Alice has been translated into some 174 different languages, including Afrikaans, Latin, Cornish, Welsh, and Tongan.

AliceLetters2

“26 Letters of Lewis Carroll,” fanned out for display, as per the book designer’s suggestion. The Q image is (of course!) the Queen of Hearts (Cotsen 46698)

Another “curious” item that didn’t quite make it into the exhibition is titled Twenty-Six Letters of Lewis Carroll, a 1998 limited printing of 26 letters that Carroll actually wrote to various children, including Alice Liddell (the “real” Alice) and Queen Victoria’s granddaughter. What makes this collection so interesting is the presentation. Each of the letters — one for each letter of the alphabet — is housed within an envelope with an illustration based on a Tenniel original: the whole collection of illustrations forming something of a rebus alphabet (A is for Alice, B for beeQ is for Queen…).  All the envelopes are bound together within a bright red “piano hinge binding,” designed so that the letters can be fanned out for display in a semi-circle. (The bound collection even comes with a descriptive sheet from the book designer, Linda K. Johnson, suggesting display options–no “mere” child’s toy, this!)

TC

The list of letter recipients: from A (Alice Compton) to Z (Zoe Dodgson)

Carroll corresponded with a large number of “child friends” throughout his career and wrote special Christmas or holiday letters or messages to some, including Alice. The pictorial Table of Contents page provides some of of the scope of this correspondence.

Let’s take a look at just two of the letters: Carroll’s letter to Alice Lidell and her sisters and his letter to Princess Alice, Duchess of Altlone (aka. granddaughter of Queen Victoria, who is sometimes regarded as Tenniel’s inspiration for the Queen of Hearts).

Alice

My dear Lorena, Alice, and Edith…

The letter to the Liddells: Lorina, Alice, and Edith (addressed to them essentially in order of their ages) is housed in an envelope with an illustration of a lion (L is for Lion) and the letter itself has the lion illustration too, as you can see. It’s addressed to “My dear…” as were many of Carroll’s letters to children. He didn’t write to children as a celebrity author or a condescending adult, but rather as a friend, which is probably one reason he was so popular with them.

As you can see, the letter also contains an acrostic poem, the first letter of each line spelling out a letter in the three girls’ names — Lorina, Alice, Edith — Carroll loved all sorts of puzzles, based on words and math alike. He actually wrote the original version of this letter on the flyleaf of a book he gave the girls as a Christmas present: Catherine Sinclair’s Holiday House (with no lion pictured, though!). The stilted formal style of this letter, although typical of both the time and some of Carroll’s other writings, is quite unlike that in Alice — probably a good thing in terms of the lasting appeal of the book!

p

My dear Princess…

In another letter — P for Princess (Alice), illustrated here with a crowned regal-looking version of Wonderland’s Alice — features a letter Carroll actually wrote to Princess Alice, Victoria’s granddaughter, as well as another acrostic poem. The letter has a remarkably conversational tone (quite unlike the poems), which is doubly remarkable since Carroll was writing to a royal princess at a time when the social bounds between “commoners and royals were quite pronounced. Carroll had actually met Princess Alice previously, something he alludes to in his letter (“before you’ve forgotten me…”). After the 1865 publication of Alice, his celebrity as best-selling author allowed him an entree to social levels quite impossible for a math don (his “day job” as Charles Lutwidge Dodgson), something he clearly relished.

The original letter accompanied a “Through the Looking Glass Biscuit Tin” that Carroll sent to Princess Alice, after he had licensed Barringer, Wallis & Manners to produce the tins as a purchase incentive for biscuits (“cookies” to those of us in the USA). Although Carroll complained about the firm’s commercialism in using the tins to encourage purchase of their products, this didn’t stop him from requesting several hundred freebies to give away to various people!

AliceLetters5.3

Whenever your brother Charlie is very naughty, just pop him in [the biscuit tin] and shut the lid!

Apart from the social-climbing aspect of this letter, what makes it interesting to me is Carroll’s tongue-in-cheek advice to Princess Alice: the idea that she should “pop” her annoying little brother, Charlie, into the tin and shut the lid whenever he was “very naughty”! Take a look at the highlighted text. Imagine an author passing along that sort of advice to a kid today!

Princeton has one of these original biscuit tins in our Parrish collection, ours formerly owned by Carroll’s sister, Louisa. Even though the tin is displayed in Cotsen Library’s “Alice after Alice” exhibition, I thought you might like to see it here — from several different angles, something not really feasible in the actual “static” exhibition.

Tin1

Front of the “Looking Glass Biscuit Tin”: Alice & the Knights (Parrish Dodgson 967)

Tin2

One side of the tin: Alice & Humpty Dumpty

Tin4

Side two: Alice, the White King, and “the Messenger”

Tin3

Back of the tin: Alice, Tweedledee & Tweedledum, and the Red Queen

 

top

Top of the tin: Alice goes through the looking glass

A final “escapee” from the exhibition is a Jecktor Company Alice in Wonderland movie filmstrip from 1933. As you can see, it’s an early form of a movie, printed on a translucent paper strip with two rows of images; it’s wound on a wooden spool and would probably be about 2 feet long if fully unrolled.

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“Alice in Wonderland” filmstrip (#165) by Jecktor Co., 1933 (Cotsen 40848)

But when looking at the Jecktor Alice more closely for this blog posting, I noticed a curious thing: the images on the top and bottom of the filmstrip are slightly different — I’d assumed that the parallel images would be the same, creating some sort of “stereo” or three-dimensional effect when viewed while they moved in some way. (Take a look at the photos above/below and you’ll see what I mean.) So I did what most of us do these days when looking for basic information; I looked online.

movie

“Alice in Wonderland” filmstrip: Alice tumbles down into Wonderland… (note the differences between the images on the top and bottom rows)

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Jecktor projector and movie-strips (image from: http://www.icollector.com/)

I learned that Jecktor (based in New York City at 200 5th Avenue, close to the Flatiron Building — quite a toney address now) was an early manufacturer of home movie projectors and gramophone-projector combos gizmos in the 1930s — Jecktor/projector, get it? They made at least 12 filmstrips of popular children’s titles, including Mickey Mouse, Cinderella, and Tom Sawyer. These filmstrips were designed to be played back using an ingenious, but very unusual-looking, playback device (that combines aspects of a hand projector with a gramophone in some cases). It even had its own US patent: #1,929,353. Take a look at it!

The projector had two lenses and a shutter that flipped the projected image from top to bottom row, and back again, when the film was hand-cranked through the projector, thereby creating the effect of animation (not unlike a flip-book, but much more mechanically complex).

qalice

“Alice” filmstrip: sequence showing Alice shrinking and getting taller…

So that’s why the images on the top and bottom rows are different — shifting from one to another enhanced the  “moving picture” effect that the changing images in each parallel row create as the film was unrolled. (If you’d like to find out more about these filmstrips, the projector, and see an animated clip of Alice, take a look at the YouTube clip from the University of Texas’s Ransom Center, which also explains more about how it all works and describes a conservation project on their own Alice filmstrip for a recent exhibition.)

projector 2

“Talkie Jecktor” projector and gramophone unit (image from” Skinner Auctions, https://www.skinnerinc.com/)

But that’s not all. Some of these projectors also had a record-playing device on top, which enabled playing of what looks like a 78 rpm record, presumably as some sort of a musical soundtrack or perhaps even some sort of dialogue, although synchronizing the movie and filmstrip would have been very very difficult. In the 1930s, commercial movies with soundtracks were still newfangled technical marvels, so I would have guessed that the record would play music — not unlike that heard in many cartoons in the 1940s-1960s — early Mickey Mouse, for instance. (Sometimes the accompanying music was classical music too — William Tell Overture, anyone?) But the box identifies the projector-cum-gramophone as a “Talkie Jector,” so maybe the record did indeed play dialogue? But I prefer to think of Alice in Wonderland set to classical music. What a combination! What music would you select?

Notes from a Summer Traveler in China and Great Britain

Part I: Children’s Literature Symposiums

At the invitation of Ocean University of China, I traveled to Qingdao, Shandong Province and attended an international children’s literature symposium held in June 4-5, 2016. The trip kicked off a refreshing journey of witnessing a global engagement with children’s books and materials. In Part I of “Notes from a Summer Traveler,” I will share my experiences at two children’s literature meetings held in China and UK; In Part II, I will present a photo album of my delightful encounters with children’s materials in China and elsewhere.

Qingdao, China

View from a seashore park in the coastal city of Qingdao. Once a German colony, Qingdao is famous for its beer industry. People who are not familiar with the word “Qingdao” may recognize its alternative spelling “Tsingtao” on emerald beer bottles from the city.

The International Symposium for Children’s Literature grew out of a biennial “China-U.S. Children’s Literature Symposium” that began in Qingdao four years ago. It has yielded two conference proceedings, Representing Children in Chinese and U.S. Children’s Literature (Ashgate, 2014) in English and The Image of the Child in Chinese and American Children’s Literature (China Social Sciences Press, 2015) in Chinese. The 2016 symposium attracted children’s literature scholars as well as Chinese educators from teachers colleges and K-12 schools. (Chinese children’s librarians were regretfully not involved, a reflection of the situation that Chinese library schools generally do not provide professional training in youth services at this point.) Presenters included Cao Wenxuan, He Weiqing, Li Xuebin, Nie Zhenzhao, Tan Fengxia, Tang Sulan, Wang Lijun, Xu Yan, and Zhu Ziqiang (China); You Peiyun (Taiwan); Okiko Miyake (Japan); John Stephens (Australia); Claudia Nelson, Eric L. Tribunella, Joe Sutliff Sanders, Karen Coats, Marilynn Olson, Mark I. West (USA); and myself. Their papers addressed the theme of the symposium, “Children’s Literature: Theory and Practice,” from multiple perspectives; reviewed the history and latest development of publishing for children in China; investigated the relationship between children’s literature and education; ventured into the intersection between children’s literature and sexuality; and put nursery rhymes, poetry, picture books, fiction, nonfiction, and family films under the critical lens of feminist studies, reader response theory, cognitive science, cross-cultural studies and other theories.

Cao Wenxuan

Professor Cao Wenxuan presented on children’s literature and Chinese language education. (photo courteous of Ocean University of China)

草房子

Children’s fiction by Cao Wenxuan: The Straw House.

The most popular speaker at the symposium was Cao Wenxuan, both a children’s author and a professor from the Department of Chinese Language and Literature at Peking University. Cao won the 2016 Hans Christian Andersen Award in April, making him the first Chinese winner of the prestigious international children’s literature award since it was first given sixty years ago in 1956. (Not a minute passed without a young starstruck graduate student of Ocean University requested to have a photo taken with the professor.) Cao is a fascinating writer who has articulated unusual and intriguing ideas about the mission of children’s literature. He does not think children’s literature should necessarily amuse young readers, but it should cultivate aesthetic sensibilities in them, shape their characters, and strengthen their resilience. Parents and educators are not obligated to hand over happiness to children; instead young people should be taught grits to endure suffering and setbacks in a graceful manner. In his novels he dares to adopt a slow pace, write dialogs sparingly, and describe nature and environment at length–all the features that would have seemed to be the enemy of children’s attention span. In a world that is full of distractions flashing from screens of every which size, Cao creates a calming literary space that invites meditation from those readers who are able to stay with his subtle narratives.

The House of Sixty Fathers written by Meindert DeJong and illustrated by Maurice Sendak. Harper, 1956. (Cotsen 39317)

Claudia Nelson gave an insightful feminist reading of The House of Sixty Fathers written by Meindert DeJong and illustrated by Maurice Sendak. (Incidentally, DeJong and Sendak were the first American winners of Hans Christian Andersen Award for writing and illustration respectively.) First published in 1956, the Newbery Honor title is still in print but has received sporadic critical attention. The story is set in wartime China. A Chinese boy is separated from his family and, as he desperately tries to flee from the Japanese-occupied territory, meets an injured American fighter pilot. Nelson analyzed how male and female characters in DeJong’s book do not conform to gender stereotypes. Instead, regardless of their age and gender, each transitions fluidly among different roles–savior, protector, caregiver, adult, and child. The House of Sixty Fathers thus deviates from those American children’s texts of the 1950s that model “appropriate” gender roles. The book is an anomaly in another dimension. DeJong based the story on his experience of serving in China during World War II as historian for the American Composite Wing of the Fourteenth Air Force. Among the limited number of American juvenile novels that are set against the backdrop of the Sino-Japanese conflict, this is a rare title that was released during the Cold War, when US and Japan were close allies against Red China.

Sanger, April 1922. Image source: http://pic.caixin.com/blog/Mon_1105/07399011305797645.jpg

A photo taken during American sex educator Margaret Sanger’s visit to China in April 1922, when she was invited to give lectures on birth control. Her writings on how parents should teach children about sex were highly influential during the Republic of China. Accompanying her in the photo were Dr. Hu Shi (left) and Dr. Zhang Jingsheng (right), a pioneer Chinese sex educator.

My presentation was titled “Theory and Practice of Sex Education for Youth during the Republic of China (1911-1949).” Using primary materials housed at the Cotsen Children’s Library and digitized texts that were increasingly available, I traced China’s sex education movement that began in earnest during the 1920s. The driving inquiry of this project was how theories and ideas in sex education were (or failed to be) translated into information sources targeting youth.

The Reproduction of Living Things by biologist Zhou Jianren. Shanghai: Commercial Press, 1935. Intended for fourth-grade readers. Zhou was the most prolific writer and respected voice on sex education during the Republic of China. (Cotsen N-000418)

Threatened by Japan’s escalating aggression toward China in the 1890s and after, Chinese elite intellectuals pleaded for drastic social changes in order to strengthen national defense. The need for producing healthy babies and physically strong citizens became the fundamental drive in the sex education movement of the Republic of China. Theoretical literature on sex education imported a vast amount of Western and Japanese learning on the topic, and agreed upon an agenda that was deeply concerned with the physiology and hygiene of reproductive systems, control of sexual impulse, and ethical sexual behavior. My study of children’s textbooks, magazines, and books, however, found that numerous finer points present in theoretical discussions were lost in practice. Though far from being satisfactory, juvenile literature proved to be a nimbler carrier for sex education information than curriculum materials, responding to the earliest appeal and providing richer, more accurate and engaging health information than a child would learn in school.

Leeds, UK. “Free Wifi” indicated on the front window of the double-decker, so I knew this was not the Knight Bus it made me think of at first.

At the invitation of the University of Leeds, I attended Children’s Literature Day, a symposium hosted by the White Rose East Asia Centre, and gave a keynote speech on the past and present of Chinese children’s literature based on much of Cotsen collection materials. It was an inspiring meeting with a vibrant community of people who were dedicated to teaching and translating Chinese fiction. The British national curriculum has promoted the use of “authentic sources” in language and literature classes, raising interests in foreign language texts and their English translations. One goal of the meeting was to generate a list of recommended works of Chinese children’s literature for general interest, for translation, and for teaching. The symposium was organized also partly in the wake of the Hans Christian Anderson Award for Cao Wenxuan.

Among the speakers was Dr. Helen Wang. When she was not curating East Asian money for the British Museum and busy writing about it, Wang translated Chinese children’s books into beautiful English text so that young readers from around the world could enjoy the same story. Wang is translator of Bronze and Sunflower, a major work by Cao Wenxuan.

Bronze and Sunflower

The English edition of Cao Wenxuan’s Bronze and Sunflower, translated by Helen Wang. Walker Books, 2015.

Helen Wang

Dr. Helen Wang, Curator of East Asian Money at the British Museum and a prolific translator of Chinese children’s literature.

Speaker Anna Gustafsson Chen is a Swedish translator of Chinese literature, best known for having translated Nobel Laureate Mo Yan’s fiction. She is also a former librarian who worked with the international library section of the Stockholm Public Library. Chen’s talk was a rare opportunity to learn about publishing and translation of children’s literature in Sweden.

Waterstone

Waterstones, a bookstore in Leeds (photo taken on July 3, 2016).

How can one walk on the street of Britain without chancing upon anything relating to Harry Potter? While Helen, I, and an incoming doctoral student of Leeds took a walk we spotted this sign in front of a bookshop, which was well stocked with children’s books. Happy Release Day!