Ive always loved retellings of classic fairy tales. I have a bit of a collection of them. So way back when Wicked hit the book world, I was so on board. I tore through Maguire's next few novels. In hardcover. At first out of genuine appreciation for the clever twist he'd brought to the table, then inexorably through the stages of falling out of love with an author. Appreciation. Excusing them on the grounds of publisher demands. Support so they can write another awesome book that will make you fall in love again. Dropping off from buying the hardcover the second it hits the shelves, to the paperback, to the discount shelf... and finally to walking past their titles with a look of wistful regret. 
 With this, Maguire nails the coffin shut my on my whirlwind romance with his work. Its overly wordy, it treads no new ground and it flips irritatingly back and forth between storylines that never quite resolve. Our protagonist merely shadows the classic heroine's journey without really expanding upon it. There is the addition of a few pale encounters but they never reach the dizzying heights of weirdness-wrapped-metaphors with which Carrol continues to dazzle us. Above we have some social commentary that simply leaves me irritated with every single character. Yes I am fully aware that people are stupid, self-centered and uncaring, but I have only to take a trip to Wal-Mart to be reminded of that. 
 "Alice" left me with the feeling of visiting the Bronx Zoo as a child. Being escorted through the large nature habitat viewing areas, you know the animals there, but you cant see them, leaving feeling vaguely unsatisfied. 
 There's not much horse left here to beat, better give it over.