The Wild Things is a book by Dave Eggers adapted from Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are and based on the screenplay by Eggers and Spike. Got that? Cool.
In typical McSweeney’s fashion, The Wild Things is as much a tactile and visual experience as a literary one. A title silhouette of wolf-suited Max against a burgundy jungle background gives the volume a treasure-box feel, like something you might store beneath your pillow between chapters.
The novel is a cross between a children’s book and a book for adults, and the idea of a novelization originally belonged to Sendak, who suggested it to Eggers. Fittingly, the book is a pleasure to read: tender, colorful, and as richly imagined a work as you’d expect from Eggers. Or Sendak. Or––in this case, in some ways––both!
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