Having read Oates's "Wonderland" quartet in sequence, I believe I can discern several recurrent themes. Each character lacks a clear understanding of how to achieve personal happiness or what they truly desire. No one seems to "fit in" seamlessly; interpersonal connections are improvised and fleeting. Moreover, I scarcely sense any progression. As described in "Expensive People," the protagonist is like a "sieve," never learning sufficiently or evolving significantly, and this concept extends in "Wonderland."

However, there are differences here. In "Wonderland," for once, we center on a single protagonist, Jesse Vogel (unlike Clara, her father, and her son in "Garden," or Loretta and her two eldest children in "them"). Additionally, he is educated, thoughtful, successful, and ultimately even wealthy - an "expensive person," as Richard Everett might term it. Despite these positive aspects, this is far from a comedy, and Oates still denies us a story with a happy ending.

The novel commences with a young man fleeing his murderous father and concludes thirty years later, with the same man listening to his own daughter call him the devil. This represents a particular brand of pessimism, where a man persistently endeavors to earn his place in the world yet can never find tranquility. The story twice refers to "wonderland": Jesse's daughter comes to dread the book by Lewis Carroll, and his wife embarks on a painfully frivolous trip to a "wonderland" shopping center. Jesse starts out thin but then becomes an overeater, gains a significant amount of weight, and later loses much of it. He becomes a neurosurgeon, delving into the very thing that gives people (the illusion of?) personality. Jesse often feels as if he is actually two people, and his daughter becomes a drug addict. This book probes what defines us and how consistent our traits truly are, much like Lewis Carroll did with the bottle and the cookies in his own "Wonderland" books. "The personality is not permanent. It's absolutely unstable," Dr. Perrault remarks at one point. And I wonder - is this necessarily a bad thing?

I perceive this book as pessimistic, and Oates has stated that it was extremely painful to write (and reread), yet it has less of the nightmarish quality that I experienced in "them." This is a story about individuals attempting to come to terms with their own past, either by living with it, ignoring it, or fleeing from it. I don't think they can accept it, but they don't lash out violently against it (as Stephen and Jules did in earlier books). It is a kind of Wonderland, disturbing and perplexing, phantasmagoric in its shifting and manipulation of the reader. Here more than ever, I felt that the characters made their own choices. At times, they believed they knew what they wanted, but of course, the allure would fade or succumb to a stronger desire for something that pulled the character in the opposite direction. Strangely enough, despite the ever-changing landscape, I discovered moments of hope here, as certain characters would strive to establish roots somewhere or recover from a disaster with unexpected dignity. The personality can change, but it still retains the direction that the past has imparted, and I think this may be the key to the human spirit.

Wow...

To think I discovered this precious gem in a book borrowing kiosk while strolling with my nephew in a local park. It was truly a serendipitous moment.

Oates has an extraordinary talent for delving deep inside the quiet and desperate minds of people. She is able to articulate the inner turmoil and anxiety with a precision and vividness that sets her apart from any other author.

Her writing is not for everyone, as it can be intense and thought-provoking. However, for me, I find her stories to be almost impossible to put down.

Once I start reading, I am immediately drawn into the complex and often troubled lives of her characters.

Oates' ability to capture the human experience in all its rawness and vulnerability is truly remarkable.

Each story is like a journey into the unknown, filled with unexpected twists and turns that keep me on the edge of my seat.

I feel privileged to have come across her work and look forward to reading more in the future.

The reprise of the FP narrative in the epistolary, towards the end of the book, works better for me than the earlier section (pp. 124 - 134). As my eyes have aged, I have come to appreciate the adequate attention paid to typography. Ten pages of italics is simply too much to ask of them. Nevertheless, the writing is beautiful, albeit occasionally seeming to ramble.

Here are a few additional notes:

On page 31, Jesse would call them flies (perhaps dry flies) rather than "feathered lures."

On page 49, while doing farm work, Jesse is more likely to notice his increasing upper-body strength, and he would probably refer to it as "tightening" rather than "hardening" (and maybe "calves and thigh" rather than "legs and thighs").

On page 128, the dimensions of an area are square, not cubic.

On page 219, Trike would use the term "leonine" instead of "lionlike."

This detailed analysis helps to enhance the overall understanding and enjoyment of the book, despite the minor issues with typography and some word choices. It shows the importance of paying attention to these small details to create a more engaging and immersive reading experience.

"Wonderland" offers a truly strange and intense experience.

I can only compare it to an extended, feverish stress dream. In this dream, everything is charged, nothing is permanent. The background constantly shifts and changes, identity is complex and somewhat fluid, and both memory and reality are a bit questionable.

It wasn't pleasant at all, yet it held a strange allure for me. I devoured much of it in quick, exhausting gulps, driven by the constant underlying tension. This is fascinating because not many truly exciting events occur, nor is there something specific to wait for in the story.

However, the tension is palpable, the threat always seems imminent, even though it's not a particular threat. It's existential. The threat lies in the unraveling of a personality that is woven from trauma that has never really been dealt with. So, the trauma feels like it's always lurking, waiting.

It should be noted that the second phase of the book involves a family with significant abuse, disorder, and identity issues. Part of their issues relates to food and weight. The author either writes convincingly as someone who really hates fat people or she actually does. This is something to be aware of.

Also, I thought the author's afterword presented the point of the book in a way that didn't resonate with me. It's her book, and I suppose she's right about what she wrote. But honestly, I didn't see Jesse the way she seems to describe. And I wonder what to make of that.

Honestly, I didn't really want to read this book. I can't say it was enjoyable, but it's something I'll probably think about for a long time, and for that, I'm grateful.

Joyce Carol Oates is truly amazing.

Her prolific output is astonishing, with a vast body of work that spans multiple genres.

She is not only a master of different writing styles but also has remarkable insights into the human condition.

Fearless in her approach, no topic is too small, too complex, or too lofty for her to explore.

"Wonderland," which is part of a series, delves deep into the themes of obsessions and the various forces that shape our lives, ranging from childhood traumas to random encounters.

The story is dark and yet has a certain loveliness to it, but it is definitely not for the faint of heart.

Despite the passages that can evoke visceral pain in the reader, it is impossible to turn away.

True literary fiction, like "Wonderland," has the power to challenge our world views and, at the same time, make us identify with our deepest, often unspoken desires and fears.

"Wonderland" takes the reader on a sprawling, wild journey that is well worth taking.

In conclusion, "Wonderland" is, well, wonderful.

I truly enjoyed this up until we encounter Reva.

At that precise moment, the story seems to lose all coherence.

Jesse suddenly goes berserk for no apparent reason.

And then, out of the blue, it jumps to his rather pathetic daughter.

After that, it simply comes to an abrupt end.

It's quite disappointing because up until the introduction of Reva, the story had a certain charm and held my interest.

But once that happened, it all went downhill.

The lack of a proper explanation for Jesse's actions and the strange shift in focus make it difficult to fully engage with the story.

It feels as if the author ran out of ideas or simply couldn't figure out how to tie everything together in a meaningful way.

Overall, it's a bit of a letdown considering how promising it started.

Ever the grotesque illustrator of humanity, Oates once again horrified me with this twisted narrative.

Jesse Vogel's story begins with his escape from a father who kills his entire family and himself within the first few pages of the book. From there, Jesse traverses equally sickening paths to various family members, a state home, an adopted family that eventually abandons him, and medical school where he continues to seek mentors to fill the role of father for him.

The novel continues through his own children's lives. Oates is a brilliant wordsmith and a fantastic writer. She weaves together the most horrifying scenes with the most beautiful prose.

The novel is hefty in length and substance. Perhaps it is a bit too hefty for its story, but it is still worth the read.

Oates' ability to create such complex and disturbing characters and situations is truly remarkable. Her writing draws the reader in and keeps them hooked until the very end.

Although the subject matter may be difficult to stomach at times, the beauty of the prose makes it all worthwhile. This is a novel that will stay with you long after you have finished reading it.

I don't feel worthy of reviewing a book like this.

The life of Jesse Vogel, and the lives of those who orbit around him like satellites, are described superbly.

Oates places a magnifying glass on the details, finding the disturbing in the everyday.

Nearly 700 pages, and now I'm sorry it's over.

It's a must-read!

This book takes the reader on an immersive journey into the complex and often troubled world of Jesse Vogel and those close to him.

The author's attention to detail is truly remarkable, as she uncovers the hidden emotions and secrets that lie beneath the surface of their seemingly ordinary lives.

Each page is filled with vivid descriptions and engaging dialogue that keep the reader hooked from start to finish.

Whether you're a fan of literary fiction or simply looking for a thought-provoking read, this book is sure to satisfy.

Highly recommended!

This particular installment in the series fails to measure up to the others.

It lacks the charm, excitement, and innovation that made the previous entries so captivating.

The story seems to be a bit lackluster, with a plot that doesn't quite engage the reader or viewer on the same level.

The characters, too, don't have the same depth and development as those in the other installments.

They come across as rather one-dimensional and uninteresting.

Overall, this entry in the series is a disappointment and doesn't live up to the high standards set by the others.

It's a shame, really, as the potential was there for something great.

Perhaps in future installments, the creators will be able to recapture the magic and bring the series back to its former glory.

The writing in this book is truly exquisite. It has a certain charm that captivates the reader from the very beginning. However, some parts of it are just too close to home. They resonate with the reader on a deep level, making it almost uncomfortable at times.

It is important to note that all of the settings - especially Lockport, NY; Ann Arbor, MI; and Toronto, ON - are entirely fictional. Despite this, the author has managed to bring them to life in such a vivid way that they seem almost real. The details are so rich and the descriptions so vivid that the reader can easily picture themselves in these places.

Overall, this book is a wonderful read. It combines beautiful writing with a compelling story and fictional settings that add to the overall atmosphere. Whether you are a fan of fiction or just looking for a good read, this book is definitely worth checking out.

This book is for all of us who pursue the phantasmagoria of personality—

What exactly is personality? Can it truly be destroyed as Dr. Perrault, the brain surgeon, so boldly declared “with a tiny pin in my fingers.” According to the reciprocal determinism theory, the formation of personality is influenced by an individual’s behavioral genetics, social environment, and consequences. Additionally, there is the concept that personality possesses the power of free will and is characterized by morality. There is so much more to it, but my brain is already hurting from thinking about all of this. Yet, I find myself constantly pondering these ideas, as they fascinate me to no end. The philosophical divides and resulting debates regarding our humanity are both frustrating and wonderful. Free Will v. Determinism; Heredity v. Environment; Uniqueness v. Universality/ Active v. Reactive; Optimistic v. Pessimistic—they all have their own valid points, yet at times, they seem a bit too certain of themselves. I’m no expert, but I just can’t believe that there is a rigid set of parameters that define a personality in the “this is how it is because we say so” manner. You know, that kind of thing always makes me dig in my heels and say “No fuckin’ way.” Some people just love to have the Coke or Pepsi argument for the sake of arguing about something. Good grief, if a little bit of chocolate free will gets into your determinism peanut butter, just let it be. It all ends up in the same place anyway. (Trust me on this.)

Wonderland is an exploration of the personality, a book that I consider a “human document.” The human being is such a complex and fascinating mystery. The first time I read Wonderland, it was like taking a rocket ride to the moon. I remember being told that it was a “good one” and checking it out from the library. I tried to ignore the librarian’s gentle attempt to direct me towards something more age-appropriate, like the latest Walter Farley book since I was known for my love of horses. But I had just read Dickens and Shakespeare in school, so I knew what I was looking for. I wanted “a good one,” something real. Seriously, I had enough trouble with reality as I spent a lot of time inside my own head. And the way things were at that time, sometimes it just didn’t feel real. I wanted something to satisfy that gnawing sense of “I want more.” I wanted to jump into the deep end of the pool where I had to be bigger to touch the bottom. I’m not just talking about being physically bigger. I was probably around 14 or 15 when I put the weighty tome into the basket of my bike and rode off to a quiet place to read it. I had a favorite tree in the woods where no one would bother me. It was a fat book, but I didn’t find it daunting at all. It had a bright yellow dust jacket with a crinkly protective plastic cover, and it had that special library book smell that was associated with summer days. The book was shocking, terrifying, and yet fascinating. It was like that “adult” forbidden fruit that I got myself into when I was impressionable and testing the waters of life beyond childhood. The characters were real, too real. They were nightmarish monsters, selfishly up to no good. I couldn’t trust any of them not to cause harm or make a disaster of every moment. I held my breath a lot and sometimes ground my teeth. Some of what was going on went over my head as I found their adult actions to be baffling. But I accepted all of it as the author’s intention and trusted her wisdom to tell the story as she saw fit. I leaned forward and kept reading. After finishing this novel, I knew there was no turning back. Dang, after reading it, I wanted to be a writer of such arcane things as personality and have spent years working on my own words. I’ve wanted to re-read Wonderland for a very long time, but I didn’t want to until I had accomplished writing something that I could call my own. I also didn’t want this monumental book to become something that I would rely on too much. But nevertheless, it was there, like a distant lighthouse, an encouraging reminder, and a stern caution. Now that I have read it with the experienced eyes of someone who has delved into the mines to unearth my own “human documents” because of their exploration of ‘being’, I was actually surprised by it. And not just surprised by how much I had forgotten. The magic is still there, but it’s different for me now. It still gives me the chills in a good way. It’s just as frightening and nightmarish as ever, timeless, and ever so interesting, exploring the phantasmagoria of personality.

Did I tell you I love this book? I do.

★★★e ½

I would like to start by explaining the reason for three and a half stars (I believe, by the way, that it is the first time I have assigned less than four stars to Oates).

Given that three stars are already a full adequacy for me, they mainly summarize the state of mind that accompanied my reading of this book.

If I could have evaluated only the first part of the novel, I would surely have been more generous, but - I repeat - it is still a positive evaluation.

"Jesse was a survivor. Jesse had no personality. He didn't want a personality."

Published in 1971, Il paese delle meraviglie is the last novel of the American Epic, that is, the saga that includes four very different works but all intended to photograph the American identity over time.

In Il paese delle meraviglie, the protagonist is the fourteen-year-old Jesse Harte who will then become the student Jesse Pedersen and end up as Jesse Vogel, a respected neurologist.

It starts with the story of a scared boy by his own family.

We are in the 1930s; the Depression looms over everyone and the Harte family is as if stuck in a situation of poverty.

"Jesse wakes up, scared. Someone has passed by his bed...? And in the living room, footsteps towards the kitchen, towards the door...? Jesse's father, sleepless. Throughout the fall and winter, he had not been able to sleep most of the night."

This is the beginning.

Jesse tells how night after night he hears the steps of a man who becomes increasingly solitary and desperate until one day he celebrates the ritual so "... tragically American - the massacre of a family by the one who should be its head, who then kills himself" (from the author's afterword).

Jesse is a survivor who, from that day on, erases and rewrites the pages of his life whenever destiny tears them from his hands.

In fact, this long novel is the story of a flight.

The main themes of identity and memory are spaces from which Jesse flees to avoid meeting himself.

"Do we exist? What is 'personality'? Is it permanent or ephemeral?"

Disguises and masks will not prevent, however, his adult version from crumbling:

"On the morning of November 23, 1963, Dr. Vogel was in bed, awake, in his room at the Plaza Hotel, next to his sleeping wife, and rigid with terror, he thought of the collapse of things, their crumpling, the collapse of the skull."

From the little room of a boy in the 1930s to the turbulent 1970s on Yonge Street in Toronto

A "strange and obsessive" novel, as J.C.O. herself has declared.

Obsessive not so much in a narrative repetition but in a literal sense in its telling of the obsessions that one can be a victim of when the equilibriums that are believed to be solid turn out to be fragile scaffolds.

Strange in telling us medical stories (which, frankly, in some passages disgusted me) by getting into the neurological details.

The title "Il paese delle meraviglie" refers both to America and to the human brain, both full of wonders that can be dreams or nightmares.

An excellent novel that made me think, but the author herself confesses to having suffered in this writing.

"Il paese delle meraviglie leaves me a little breathless: the narration itself seems breathless, swept up in that vortex of existence that is our human condition."

------------------------

* "Each of us has a hidden obsession, I suppose, a sort of monster that has made our facial structures what they are on the surface, the facial mask that is proper to us, exclusive in the universe, and we try to keep this monster hidden, perhaps except from ourselves. And some of us never see the monster inside us... This is the personality that people defend. But it is only ephemeral. With a simple tiny pin between my fingers," she said, raising her hand and joining the index finger and thumb, "I can destroy any personality in about thirty seconds, sixty seconds at most."