Where the Wild Things Are
As most of you will already be aware, Maurice Sendak died last night at the age of 84. There has been quite a huge outpouring of grief and reminiscence since, so in many ways it could be said I’m jumping the bandwagon here, but I want to put my two cents in. I think it fascinating that this man’s death is getting such a reaction; after all his best known work – the only one I know about – was a short children’s book written decades ago. But it’s that very book causing such a stir, because what a book it is.
I know next to nothing about Maurice Sendak; I believe he was a wonderful man with great creativity and a way of looking at the world we should probably all envy. But for me to write anything more about him would be wrong, I simply don’t know. But I do want to talk about Where the Wild Things Are. This book must have been one of the first I remember reading, and re-reading and re-reading. It’s easily one of the most important books of my childhood – even more important than the pop-up about the crocodile who tours London with a dump truck and crashes a garden party at Buckingham Palace.
This short, simple story told me some very crucial things about life. It told me I could go to fantastic places whenever I wanted. In these places I would find many things, some of them scary some of them exciting and all of them beautiful. I could be whatever I wanted to be when I got there. I could dance with monsters and be a king. I could sail seas, climb mountains, run through forests. All these things were right there, accessible at a moment’s notice – and when I’d had enough, the real world would be waiting for me, and my supper still warm.
More than that, these places, although dreamt up in my mind, were not any less true than the real world I left to visit them. So while I know so very little about Maurice Sendak I owe him a great deal. He gave my imagination credence, he told me it was good and that I should go to those places. The places are dangerous at times but I would always be safe, because those places are, in fact, part of me. Going to them validates myself, allows me to be who I am.
So today, in honour of a man you may know nothing about but who gave the world an invaluable story, go to the wild places in you. You’re supper will be waiting when you return.
Keep dreaming.
I know next to nothing about Maurice Sendak; I believe he was a wonderful man with great creativity and a way of looking at the world we should probably all envy. But for me to write anything more about him would be wrong, I simply don’t know. But I do want to talk about Where the Wild Things Are. This book must have been one of the first I remember reading, and re-reading and re-reading. It’s easily one of the most important books of my childhood – even more important than the pop-up about the crocodile who tours London with a dump truck and crashes a garden party at Buckingham Palace.
This short, simple story told me some very crucial things about life. It told me I could go to fantastic places whenever I wanted. In these places I would find many things, some of them scary some of them exciting and all of them beautiful. I could be whatever I wanted to be when I got there. I could dance with monsters and be a king. I could sail seas, climb mountains, run through forests. All these things were right there, accessible at a moment’s notice – and when I’d had enough, the real world would be waiting for me, and my supper still warm.
More than that, these places, although dreamt up in my mind, were not any less true than the real world I left to visit them. So while I know so very little about Maurice Sendak I owe him a great deal. He gave my imagination credence, he told me it was good and that I should go to those places. The places are dangerous at times but I would always be safe, because those places are, in fact, part of me. Going to them validates myself, allows me to be who I am.
So today, in honour of a man you may know nothing about but who gave the world an invaluable story, go to the wild places in you. You’re supper will be waiting when you return.
Keep dreaming.
Beautifully put and an excellent explanation of the impact of excellent children's books.
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