RIP Maurice Sendak: “So he gave up being king of the wild things…”
“The night Max wore his wolf suit and made mischief of one kind and another, his mother called him wild thing and Max said, “I’ll eat you up!” so he was sent to bed without eating anything.”
Maurice Sendak’s short masterpiece Where The Wild Things Are is a perfect combination of (very few) words and (beautiful) pictures that work together to tell a story of mysterious, poetic profundity.
Every child recognises himself or herself in Max, who rages and is punished, whose imagination takes him to a thrilling far-off dangerous place and who is brought home through love and a hot supper. All of us know that there are wild things inside us who like to have a rumpus sometimes.
Sendak’s time of birth is unknown, so ignore the angles. The Moon is in profound, imaginative Pisces though and probably trining Mercury in sensitive, nostalgic Cancer, and Pluto which rules the dark beasts of our subconscious. So there it is: telling stories (Mercury) to children (Cancer) and about childhood (Cancer) about the darkness inside (Pluto).
Thank you, Maurice. I hope your supper is waiting for you – and that it is still hot.