I love Lewis Carroll's work, but sometimes I just have no freaking clue what he's talking about. I experienced this sensation of vagueness a few times during my reading of the Sylvie and Bruno books, but I felt it most while reading some of the poems in Phantasmagoria.
But what I could understand I really enjoyed. I really loved Hiawatha's Photographing, Melancholetta, Size and Tears, and The Lang Coortin', although some of these poems have strangely inconclusive endings. It's interesting to see Carroll's last poem in this book, Fame's Penny Trumpet, where he's really, really mad at academic big-wigs.
Make sure you read Alice before even attempting to read this.Get more detail about Phantasmagoria and Other Poems.
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