Jabberwocky, by Lewis Carroll, illustrated by Joel Stewart

Review by: Joel Gould
Genre: Poetry

Today, the definition of poetry offered up by Google’s search engine, while lacking poetry itself, proves adequate:

poetry, ˈpōətrē/

(noun) literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ideas by the use of distinctive style and rhythm

The political events of this past week have been extraordinary. To not recognize the literal elephant in the room, would require ostrich-like determination. It has been a week of feeling and ideas. It has been a week of vomit and tears, spray painted swastikas and middle schoolers pounding, “build that wall” towards minority students. It has been a week of rage and the mocking of people who quake before the rise of a demagogue. Words sound differently today. Unfortunately, great poetry will likely follow. For now, the voice of Leonard Cohen echoes:

And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

In the previous, antebellum week, I had selected Joel Stewart’s 2003 illustrated adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky. To my mind, the poem made an interesting contribution to the discussion of our graduate class about Kenneth Goodman’s book, Reading - The Grand Illusion: How and Why People Make Sense of Print:  How our reading apparatus improbably looks past the literal building blocks of language, the letters, the words, to uncover the intentions of communication.  On the surface, The Jabberwocky is a game. In a familiar cadence, with a comforting structure, it describes a world, creatures, and a villain, using almost entirely made up words. For this poem, meaning gets made, when an adult—whose ability to improvise on the instrument of pure sound has nearly been shut down by the calcification of experience—is forced to project these syllables, with intention, to a child, whose meaning receptors are as spongy and flexible as they will ever be.  Somehow, a story emerges out of near nonsense.


Joel Stewart's illustrations are beautiful and strange; violent, yet bloodless. When the Jabberwock is sliced, his innards are revealed to be gears and springs. The young knight slays him effortlessly and carries his severed head, comfortably and haughtily. One could accuse Stewart of robbing the audience of the agency of their own fantasy. Real monsters, unfortunately, are not so easily slain.  Twill not be brillig, and the slithy toves will not gyre and gimble in the wabe for many a moon. In our dimension, the Jabberwock will indefinitely prevail.

Until the dust settles, I would recommend leaving this book on the shelf, and finding poems that speak more directly to feelings and perspectives relevant to this moment.

Here are a few alternatives:

Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
Plot by Elizabeth Willis
Sermon at Temple Israel of Hollywood, by Martin Luther King, Jr., February 26,  1965

Here is my own blind stab - a poem for my daughter.

I still don’t know what to say

You put yourself to sleep because you wanted to stop the freefall.  

It made me feel sick. 

I stood above you, shaking

And could not produce a comforting word.  

I respect you too much to lie to you

Everything is not going to be alright

Things might get dangerous

People will die

The rest of your childhood will be cast in a darker light

I am sorry

I love you

This is reality

I look forward to going to Washington

And marching side by side

And reading your signs 

And knowing what is important to you.

Be brave 

Be happy

Sing loudly

Be healthy and strong

Be kind and selfless

Love yourself confidently

Love others fiercely

Open your heart to fight for justice in small and big ways

Tell people what you think and how you feel

Together,

We will lower our shoulders to the boulder

And push

Someday,

Love will prevail