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enjoying childhood and embracing innocence. It’s a book that has stayed with me long after my first, second, or event hundredth reading. The language is simple, the meaning is deep – rooted in the fears that children know very well and adults don’t often think about.
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Sendak’s writing style was humorous and melancholic, and he
allowed his beautiful illustrations to tell as much of the story as his well-chosen
words. I don’t pretend to know much about his life or his family, and I have
no claim to grief. Yet, here I am, grieving. In the few interviews I’ve seen
of Mr. Sendak, he has come off as an acerbically witty person with as much pain as
humor. And he’s delightfully mean. Which,
given the way he plumbed the depths of the human psyche and examined our
desires and trepidations so accurately, is no great surprise. This was a man
with a lot of weight on his shoulders.
Today, we’ve lost an American legend. Today, we’ve lost a
childhood friend.
