Wild Rumpus

When I was a kid, two of my favorite books were Chicken Soup with Rice and Where the Wild Things Are, both products of the wondrous imagination of Maurice Sendak.

I'm told that when I was two or three, after being read Chicken Soup with Rice for the millionth time as a bedtime story, I declared that Chicken Soup with Rice comes out of a can.




The movie version of Where the Wild Things Are (directed by Spike Jonze with a script by Jonze and David Eggers) a few years back was polarizing. I know a lot of people who completely hated it -- some thought it was too on-the-nose and filled with psychobabble. Others were shocked by how unhappy the monsters were.

For me, the blending of id-filled adventurousness and the growing awareness of loss was heartbreaking.

The loss of Maurice Sendak this week at age 83 was a sad occasion.

And I'm sure I'm not the only one who was reminded of childhood -- with all the excitement, amazement, and danger that entails.

Thanks for so many decades of great stories and pictures (not to mention sets for plays and operas).

You will be missed.