Maurice Sendak, author of such “dark” classics as Where the Wild Things Are, passed away. One of the most memorable books of my own childhood and (likely, since we read it so much) my daughter’s, is Where the Wild Things Are, a story of energy and anger and the potentially dark forces within frustrated people. Fantasies are always better than punching a hole in the wall, or punching your mom.
While many a bad film has prevented at least some folks I know from reading great books (e.g., The Perfect Storm, whose movie was just, well, wow, terrible), the semi-recent film was particularly enjoyable. I won’t blather on about how it expanded on some of the psychological self-exploration of the book. But I will say that both I and my daughter enjoyed it. And she is particularly enamored of the soundtrack, featuring one of her favorite songs, “All Is Love.”
Rest in peace, Mr. Sendak.