Where The Wild Things Are Is An Awful Book

Where The Wild Things Are Is An Awful Book

There, I said it. It had to be said and well, I'm more than happy to do so. Where The Wild Things Are was an awful book. And no, I wasn't beaten or neglected as a child. No one hurt me. I just feel that the book was really bad and teaches nothing to children. Not one single positive lesson can be learned from this book. It really is an awful book on all levels.

I didn't always feel this way. I actually loved the book as a child. Why wouldn't I? It was reaffirming my crazy notions that I am right and my parents were wrong all along. Ha! That will show them! In their face, I should always allow the wild rumpus to begin! Hell, I even did one of my finals in Television broadcasting class based around a sort of Mister Rogers setting reading all nine sentences of Where The Wild Things Are in College.



But maybe that was the problem. I had nostalgic memories attached to this one and then picking up the book again and reading it, I just realized how much of a big pile of shit this book actually was. It didn't contain any lessons to learn for life. The grammar in it was terrible and not a very good teaching tool for children and most of all, the lesson to be learned from this book are something I wouldn't want my non-existent children to even entertain.

Oh, it must be a while since you last picked up this book, so let me take you down memory lane. In the book Max is a complete little shit. He starts off chasing the dog with a fork. Only to get busted for that and sent to his room without supper. Good, you should teach your children not to run around with sharp objects threatening to eat the dog.



Then when he's in his room stewing over what he did, his answer isn't to sit and think about what he did wrong and correct his clearly deranged and potential future murderous behavior. No, it's to make up some imaginary land to sail off to where there's other monsters like himself to hang out with and endorse his behavior.

Only, they're a lot meaner with bigger eyes and larger teeth! Oh my. Maybe now he will realize he was being a little shit and behave, much like Hansel and Gretel before they were tossed in the oven. A little tough love to teach a lesson. No. He scares them and makes them believe he's the king of the wild monsters. Way to go and teach kids to be the biggest dick around to be accepted.



Then when he's used these monsters for all that they were good for, he decides that he wants to blow this taco joint. On the threat of their alpha-prick leaving, these monsters are not all that thrilled with the idea and try to bargain with him to not leave with promises that they'll eat him right up if he doesn't leave. Way to teach kids bartering skills. No wonder the art of haggling is only still alive in Glendale.

We get to the worse part of the book, the lack of lesson learned from all this. When Max finally arrives back home from his land of make-believe there's a warm meal and a huge slice of cake waiting for him. What.The.Fuck! What kind of shitty parenting is that? Who gets a big piece of cake after chasing their dog with a god damn fork? Hell, who gets a big piece of cake after even being good? What is this, his fucking birthday? He was a complete and utter piece of shit to any and everyone in the story and he gets a prize and we're suppose to give this example to our children? No fucking way!



This book wouldn't be so highly remembered if it wasn't for the art. That's the only saving grace that this book has going for it. The art is top notch. If it wasn't for the art that Maurice Sendak created, I'd say it would have been lost in the time line of history and never missed. The story, I'll say it yet again, is just that bad. It's as if the book was translated from a different language into English since it's so poorly written.

This kid is a real dick who mouths off to both his mother, the monsters and anyone else. Stares these monsters down and acts like a complete asshole. So I suppose that's the appeal when I was younger to the book. On the whole, Kids books are terrible. They're written by adults who want to write adult books but are awful at it and have to write something for someone a whole lot dumber. I should know, I used to want to write children books.



Then you have those who are grasping on to this book as if their childhood depends on it being a masterpiece. Whenever I boil down the story to Kid gets in trouble for being a brat, goes to imaginary world and acts like a brat with monsters, gets bored and comes back home they insist that there's some deeper meaning to the book. This is a taste of the deep meaningful shit I get.

It's simpler and more complex at the same time. At its core, the story is basically "kid goes to bed an angry little shit, calms down, and realizes his mom loves him." The journey to the land of the wild things is basically an allegory for dealing with anger - he masters his anger (staring down the wild things), revels in it (acts as king of the wild things), and finally calms down and accepts things (returns to the real world), finding that despite his awful behavior his mom still loves him. The book has little in the way of an explicit plot, but more character development than some novels. There's quite a bit of material for a good writer to develop there. The interesting part won't be seeing the very simple plot of the book on screen - it'll be how Jonze, Eggers, and company handle the characterization, allegory, and everything besides plot.

It's like I'm in Art school all over again with people pulling shit out of their ass. Where the hell does one get this idea that it's all about his mother showing him that he's loved most of all? How did you get such a deep meaningful description based off NINE sentences and a whole bunch of pictures of them horsing around? Don't get me wrong, I like Maurice Sendak's In The Night Kitchen.... Well, I did. I haven't actually picked up that book since I was a child. Fuck! Don't tell me I'm going to go through the same thing with that as I did this book. Picking it up and soon realizing that it's a huge pile of shit as well.

Now I'm concerned. Maurice Sendak's books were always out there, I'll give you that, they seem to have some serious undertones in there His book Outside Over There is based around a surreal kidnapping, has undertones of child sexual abuse, and was turned into the movie Labyrinth. But Where The Wild Things Are was not one of those. Even if it was originally banned in a few schools. Though, I'm sure they could easily have banned it because of the clearly terrible example it gives kids to act like Wild Things and be proud of it.


Hmm.. yup, I should just let those happy memories stay happy back there.

So this brings up a serious conflict of interest. You see, I really love Spike Jonze. Love every music video he has done and his flicks are great. But I'm torn about seeing a film about a book I no longer give two shits about and really, think is awful. So should I see the movie? Yes, I thought it was great as kid, but then again, I wanted to drive a fire truck when I was a kid. Doesn't mean I should have. Allowing me to indulge in terrible actions would have just made my already absent parents just that much worse.

It's often the case that one loves a book and then it gets turned into a film and it's utterly a piece of shit compared to the book. In this case, I'm guessing that it would virtually be impossible for the book to be better than the movie. Even if they shot Max in the head at the end, I would think that it would be an improvement. Mainly because Max is such an awful piece of shit character that I find Vincent, from Choke, a character I can more relate to than Max.


I actually have all these god damn toys.

Where's the outrage that was around when they made The Cat In The Hat into a film? Wasn't it a situation that everyone complained that you can't make a two hour film about a ten page book? This is a ten sentence book with a completely lacking plot. I'm seriously confused on how they're going to be able to stretch the story out anymore than Max and Wild Things fucking around in the wilderness. And even that isn't much of an interesting story that doesn't get boring after ten minutes of viewing it.

I may be in for a boring venture but it wouldn't be called a morbid curiosity if it wasn't morbid. So maybe I will see the movie. I owe it to myself to have some closure. Besides that, I know I'm going to talk shit about the book when it's brought up in conversation and I should be an informed conversationalist and be able to give an honest opinion about the film based on my very strong feelings towards the book. It's not like Maurice Sendak doesn't have an opinion already.

"I love this film very much, and I hope you like it too. If not, then you can go straight to hell."
-Maurice Sendak

Pretty sharp tongue for a Children's book writer. But hey, Walt Disney was anti-Semitic so it's all good, right? Doesn't change the fact that this book was awful.