Where The Wild Things Are is one of those truly rare books that can be enjoyed equally by a child and a grown-up. Max dons his wolf suit in pursuit of some mischief and gets sent to bed without supper. Fortuitously, a forest grows in his room, allowing his wild rampage to continue unimpaired. Sendak's color illustrations are beautiful, and each turn of the page brings the discovery of a new wonder.
The wild things - with their mismatched parts and giant eyes - manage somehow to be scary looking without really being scary; at times they're hilarious. Sendak's defiantly run-on sentences - one of his trademarks - lend the perfect touch of stream of consciousness to the tale, which floats between the land of dreams and a child's imagination.
This Sendak classic is more fun than you've ever had in a wolf suit, and it manages to reaffirm the notion that there's no place like home.
Where the Sidewalk Ends»