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Musings: There’s A Mystery There: The Primal Vision of Maurice Sendak by Jonathan Cott

There’s A Mystery There: The Primal Vision of Maurice Sendak by Jonathan Cott

Doubleday, 2017

ISBN-13: 978-0385540438

Available: Hardcover, Kindle edition

I love Maurice Sendak. One of my favorite books to read aloud to children, especially when reading in a storyhour, is Where The Wild Things Are. I mean, there is nothing like getting a crowd of kindergarteners to roar their terrible roars without holding back.

But there is also something that makes many people (mostly adults, I think) uneasy about his work. There are uncomfortable emotions, uncontrollable imaginations, and so much hunger in his illustrations. These are all most evident in the three books he referred to as his “trilogy”: Where the Wild Things Are, In The Night Kitchen, and Outside Over There. Of these three books, Outside Over There is probably the least well known, and also the one that came from the deepest places in Sendak’s mind and heart, as well as having broad influences from his past and present circumstances and experiences. In There’s A Mystery There, Jonathan Cott delves as far down as he can into Sendak’s psyche and casts a wide net to capture the manifold ways it expresses itself, specifically through an examination of Outside Over There. 

In a serendipitous set of circumstances, Cott met and interviewed Sendak in 1976, just as he was starting Outside Over There, and again in 1981, after receiving an advance copy of the book directly from the author, so he witnessed both the beginnings and the winding down of the process of creation for what Sendak described as “the last excavation of my soul.”

There’s A Mystery There is Cott’s attempt to go further into Sendak’s soul by exploring his past– family, childhood, and career; his obsessions and associations– the Lindbergh kidnapping, Mozart, the artists who inspired him; his many books, particularly Where The Wild Things Are, In The Night Kitchen, and Outside Over There; and Sendak’s own thoughts and comments as expressed to Cott through interviews. It goes further by including discussions of Outside Over There, specifically, with psychoanalyst Dr. Richard Gottlieb, Jungian analyst Margaret Klenck, art historian Jane Doonan, and writer, co-creator, and Sendak biographer Tony Kushner, These are all fascinating discussions, exploring the book from a variety of different angles, and from my point of view as someone who reads a lot of children’s books, reads a lot about children’s books, and loves the art of Maurice Sendak, this was very readable and eye-opening. A brief biographical sketch does not offer the fascinating window that the biographical information and commentary on Sendak’s past found in the first half of this book, so for anyone wanting to go below surface details this is a great resource. The art historian’s close examination of the book’s illustrations is very much worthwhile for someone wanting to get into the details of the art in the book.  The other discussions are interesting if you want to delve deeper into Sendak’s psyche, but an average reader may not necessarily need that level of detail.

From reading this book, I discovered new connections between Sendak and his work, and made observations that I hadn’t made previously. What I didn’t find was a definitive answer to what the book is about, what it really means, or why, despite my fascination with the book, the ending is so frustrating for me.  Rather than providing straightforward information, Cott’s writing is more of a spiral in and out, twisting around the center of what Outside Over There, giving the reader clues without closing the window to manifold worlds.

Outside Over There inspired the movie Labyrinth, and if you are looking for a satisfying ending, you probably ought to check it out. Sendak’s version continues to keep me wondering, and Cott’s writing, while it resolves some things, leaves the book still a mystery.

Recommended for students and lovers of children’s literature, picture book illustration, literary criticism, and Maurice Sendak: and for libraries serving educators and librarians.

Note: I’ve previously written about Outside Over There. If you’d like to see what I said, click here.

 

 

Book Review: Tell The Story To Its End by Simon P. Clark

Tell The Story To Its End by Simon P. Clark

St. Martin’s Griffin, 2015

ISBN-13: 978-1250066756

Available: Hardcover, paperback, Kindle edition

 

Oli’s mum has suddenly, and without explanation, decided the two of them should go to the country and visit his uncle, Rob. Rob has been estranged from Oli’s parents for many years, and although no one is telling him anything, Oli knows something bad has happened. In an effort to distract him, Rob suggests that Oli explore the attic, and once the attic door is opened, strange things begin to happen in the house.

As Oli explores the village it becomes clear that something about his family is being held against him, but no one will tell him exactly what it is. He becomes friends with Em, who is fascinated by local legends and stories, and shares with him the tale of Full Lot Jack, who offers children their heart’s desire in exchange for their dreams. Her stories, in combination with the strange things that have been happening since the attic door was opened, and a need to escape his family’s lies, drive him to explore the attic, where he meets Eren, a creature that lives in the attic and feeds on stories. As frightening as Eren is, Oli can’t stay away. There is more truth to Eren’s dark stories than in Oli’s everyday life, and Oli must make a decision about which one he most wants to escape.

In some ways, this book reminded me of A Monster Calls. There’s a lonely boy with nightmares, who calls a monster to him in an effort to make sense out of fear and lies, with a parent who has something seriously wrong going on. As in A Monster Calls. there is a great deal about the power of story. But there the similarities end. Tell The Story To Its End lacks the powerful illustrations combined with primal emotion that make A Monster Calls an outstanding read. Instead, it’s a story packed in cotton wool, with muted emotions and dissociated relationships. The beginning of the book suggests its end, and Clark’s skill with creating gothic nightmares instills a sense of dread from the very first page, that only increases as the reader turns the pages, knowing what is likely to unwind. Despite that feeling of inevitability, the book doesn’t unfold in a predictable manner. Readers who enjoy dark tales that play cleverly with plot, structure, and narrative will be surprised, and may find something to like, but those seeking deep emotional connection or expecting a happy ending will want to look elsewhere.  Appropriate for ages 11 and up.

Musings: Reading An Old Favorite With New Eyes

I’m still reading Watership Down with my daughter. I wrote before about how she predicted future elements of the plot based on previous knowledge (which I love to see with my educator’s heart), but now I want to write about how reading this aloud with her has affected me as a reader. If you read my previous post, you know this is one of my favorite books. I first read it, by myself, when I was maybe a year older than she is now, and over the past many years, I have read it over and over (although this is the first time in many years that I’ve picked it up). I know the plot and what to expect, but as an adult, having wider experience of the world, its impact doesn’t hit me as hard. And of course because I read it to myself and not with an adult to discuss it with me, I missed a lot on my first time through, especially because the structure is a little confusing, with stories inside stories.

As I explained before, she predicted some pretty unsettling elements of the book, and was excited to see if she was right. She was even waiting impatiently for the reveal. And then we reached it, but the thing is, intellectually knowing what is probably going to happen (she was still debating whether the rabbits in the new warren were cannibals or planned to sacrifice our brave band of adventurers) is different when things start happening, suddenly, to characters you’ve grown to love. Because I already previously spoiled this for you, I’ll say that a greatly-loved, if rather brusque member of our adventuring group is caught by surprise in what will probably be an unsurprising way to any adult reading this, but OH MY GOD it is terrifying, because the witnesses don’t actually see what’s happening but we, the readers, know this is the moment. And when the witnesses do see, because they’re rabbits, they see the peril, and they see what has happened to their friend, but they don’t have the ability to understand what is happening and they don’t know what to do. They are horrified and frozen by what they see. And as readers we have a choice– we can step back and look at the big picture, knowing what is probably going to happen and dreading it– or we can experience it through the rabbits’ eyes, trying to solve the problem without knowing what’s going on even as they are witnessing the terrible thing that is happening right in front of them. The smallest one, Fiver, rushes to the warren to say what has happened, and while our band of adventurers immediately gather and run to their friend, the warren rabbits ignore him, and when he tries to get their attention, they attack him.

Once the immediate crisis has ended, Fiver pulls all the facts together to explain to them why the warren rabbits refused to help (he is a very intuitive creature). An experienced reader has probably figured the situation out by this point, but the average rabbit (and maybe the first time reader who saw the story through the rabbits’ eyes) needs it laid out to them. It’s at this point that my daughter emerged from whatever deep place the story had taken her. Once she understood what had actually occurred (that one of her predictions was correct) she could go the step further that the author never does (because this, after all, is a tale of rabbit adventure and not a deep philosophical discussion) and say “How could the warren rabbits pretend nothing was happening? Why did they stay? How could they be so cruel?”  As a first time reader who lived the experience through the eyes of the rabbits, and felt it with them,  and then stopped to think about it, the cruelty, indifference, and unfairness of the warren rabbits are something she felt on not just an intellectual level, as an adult or experienced reader might, but on a visceral level. And yet at the end, that same deepness of feeling also showed her, and me through her, the power of mercy and of hope.

Don’t you sometimes feel jaded by the experiences you’ve lived through in this world? You learn that “nature is red in tooth and claw”, that unfairness and cruelty exist in the world everywhere, that people will sometimes turn their backs on those in need if there’s benefit to themselves, that there’s a willingness out there to trade freedom for security. Some kids learn those things the hard way, by living it, but there are some who are protected from having to know those things, until, for the first time, they see the world through rabbits’ eyes. Reading aloud doesn’t just benefit them. It peels back the layers between how so many of us now see the world, and the sharp vision and powerful feelings our children possess.

There are many reasons to read aloud to children: to teach them how stories work, to introduce them to new ideas and new worlds, to help them increase vocabulary, to learn to read with both fluency and comprehension, to engage them in reading independently, to help build emotional bonds, to prepare them to participate effectively in democracy and society. All of these are so important. I can’t emphasize enough the power of reading (and if you have a child of any age who says they’re too old for reading aloud, keep in mind that I read to my husband, as well as my children, until the night before he died).

But here is something many, many of us don’t take into consideration. The benefits of reading aloud are not one-way. There are reasons for adults to read aloud with children, and a very important reason is that is allows us to see our own world with new eyes and a refreshed heart.

Editor’s note: Next up, back to horror fiction. I promise.