A shy Oxford mathematician who spent his professional life defending Euclid against modernizers wrote, almost by accident, the strangest books in the English language. For a century and a half we have explained them badly. We have blamed opium, blamed migraine, blamed a temperament we would rather not examine too closely. Every one of those explanations fails, and this book shows exactly where.

What Charles Dodgson actually built was a laboratory. He worked in the decade when mathematics severed the ancient bond between formal correctness and recognizable meaning, and he disliked the severance intensely. So he demonstrated it. He took a world with functioning grammar, functioning logic, and functioning manners, and removed one hidden assumption at a time to see what would collapse. Alice does not fall into chaos. She falls into a controlled experiment.

The Logic of Wonderland reconstructs the man behind the machinery, then takes the machinery apart. It catalogs the devices that manufacture paradox, tests whether nonsense can be produced mechanically, and asks the question nobody has answered convincingly: why did this survive when so much cleverer Victorian writing did not. The answer turns out to involve an unexpected principle. A saying travels through time by keeping one relation and discarding its context. Nonsense travels by doing the reverse, and travels further.

The final third of the book puts thirty of Carroll's most famous paradoxes through a formal method the author has previously applied to Daoist maxims, the sayings of the Gospels, and ordinary proverbs. Some yield laws already known to science. Some yield laws nobody has stated. And some, examined with complete honesty, yield nothing whatsoever. That empty basket is the most valuable result in the book, because a method that always finds something is a method that can never be wrong.

Anything with structure can be formalized.