the hunting of the snark

After all that hellish ruckus in the infernal Malbowge of Fit the Fourth (sorcerers, falsifiers, circus folk and publishers), we shall n...

Ladies and gentlemen, the Greatest Show on Earth is not to be found under some ratty canvas tent reeking of elephant dung and stale p...

We continue with Fit the Fourth of my GN version of The Hunting of the Snark (or as I like to call it, my Precious) … The story so fa...

Dear readers and fellow Snark Hunters: I've been remiss in updating this on-going exegesis of my GN version of The Hunting of the ...

It was probable that Lewis Carroll never intended for us to have any notion of what actually went on behind the scenes of his Snark Hunt....

What a Nonsensical treat we have for you, dear reader! A hearty quatrain of Lewis Carroll’s finest Snark vintage embellished with a festi...

Judging from both the Barrister’s exasperated demeanour (played here by the Eminent Continental Steamer, Martin Heidegger) and from the g...

The circus-like atmosphere of  this  Snark hunt has turned dangerous, dangerous to a degree that Lewis Carroll would certainly never coun...

The alert reader will notice that I’ve taken the liberty of transporting Lewis Carroll’s Snark Hunt into a tautological circus ring, repl...

Huzzah! England expects the Bellman to insert his bell into his right eye. The Bellman promptly complies! Some readers might insinuate th...

Our favorite poet and Eminent Victorian Lewis Carroll has given us the late 19th-century equivalent of certain ubiquitious American psych...

A reiteration of the  Snarkic Galdor  … a type of verse-charm first overheard by the poet Lewis Carroll whilst sipping his tea and mental...

We have already nibbled upon — and spurned! —  Beatrice Hatch’s assertion  that Lewis Carroll had told her that the word  Snark  was a po...

There comes a time when even poets such as the Talented Mister Lewis Carroll draw a blank, as the saying goes. Yet such deficiencies seem...

These headless anapaests of Lewis Carroll rollick onwards in their frolicksome procession and who are we to deny their cantering allure? ...

False pretences are the bane of modern life or so I’m told. Although Lewis Carroll seems to have composed here an entire poem devolving en...