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Unbirthday

Book by Liz Braswell · 20 quotes · Alice, Wonderland, Katz

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Unbirthday Quotes

“Because, of course, the real world needs some Nonsense, sometimes," Alice had said to Katz at the Samovar, when originally revealing her plan. "Not all the time and not never. Just enough to remind us when real things things get too ridiculous to be borne. And sometimes we have to create that Nonsense ourselves." What the real world needs is an Alice," Katz had said back to her. "And Wonderland, too." That was the first time he had kissed her.”

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“They were supposed to wait an hour or so before handling the plates, but, always impulsive, Alice couldn't help herself. She snuck one into her palm, knowing that if she was caught her aunt would lecture her about how Patience and Time were the lost twin sisters of the other muses, the extra ones no one ever talks about (as compared to the more showy ones like Terpsichore and Urania).”

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“Why is a raven like a writing desk?" she prompted. "I don't know, why?" he asked gamely. "No- you asked me that, last time. I never figured out the answer myself. But I asked everyone when I woke up- er, came back to Angleland, and even read a great many books on puzzles and riddles to try and solve it. So now I have several answers. So tell me which one is right!" She began counting on her fingers. "One: because they both have quills dipped in ink." Her audience just looked at her gravely. Alice hurried on to the next. "Two: the American author, Mr. Edgar Allan Poe, wrote on both." The Dodo and the Gryphon looked at each other and shrugged helplessly. "And three- my friend Charles came up with this- because each can produce a few notes, tho' they are very flat!”

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“A shop had opened and folded out one of its horizontally shuttered windows, locking it so it formed a shelf. On top of this, a baker set out pies to cool- caramel black thistle and ginger worm- along with tiny square seedcakes that smelled amazing. Not that Alice had ever smelled a seedcake before or known beforehand what a good-smelling one smelled like; perhaps time in the bird town was changing her. EAT ME was spelled out in pine nuts upon the top of each cake. "Let me just try one of these. Perhaps I shall shut up like a telescope," she said, taking one and nibbling at it. The baker's wingy hand slapped ineffectually at her, but there were no other ramifications. The cake was nutty and buttery with a distinct taste of grasshopper.”

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“To wit: mercury is deadly poisonous. Hatters really were said to have gone mad in the nineteenth century because of exposure to mercury in their hat-making processes: in effect, they suffered long-term mercury poisoning. You cannot eat the fish from many rivers and lakes of America even today because of the deadly mercury that lies on their muddy bottoms eternally, the result of toxic industrial pollution. In this book the Hatter drinks mercury. You, dear reader, cannot. It will kill you. L. Braswell”

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“Alice of course used the camera to document anything the remotest bit mysterious. She spent her days on what she called "photo walks": looking for objects and people that hinted at a hidden, fey, or wild side, which she would try to coax out with her camera. Once she found a potential subject she worked long and hard composing the shot, sometimes with additional mirrors or a lantern if it was in a dimly lit alley. She developed these images in her aunt's darkroom and then laid them out around her own room, studying them and trying to conjure a world out of what she saw there. Sparkling dew on spiderwebs, gloomy attics, a pile of bright refuse that might have hidden a monster or poem. The elfin qualities of a child, her eyes innocent and old at the same time.”

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“The house, she couldn't help noticing, was just the right size for her in her present form, but not proportionally; it was built for a rabbit's movements and habits. Doors were fatter, rounder, and shorter. There were lovely paintings of carrots and dill artfully arranged on the lettuce-print wallpaper along with the usual long-eared silhouettes. Lovely little velvet King Louis chairs were more like tuffets for resting on with all (four) of your legs pulled up under you.”

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