A few days ago, Maurice Sendak passed away at the age of 83. If the name doesn’t ring a bell, maybe this will: he was the author and illustrator of “Where The Wild Things Are.” So suddenly this is a big deal, right? Monumental even.
I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I owe Maurice Sendak my childhood—all apologies to J.K. Rowling and C.S. Lewis as well—but I remember reading “Where The Wild Things Are” with my folks, and they were good times. It was a good book.
In its time, “Where The Wild Things Are” was challenged and even banned because of its illustrations—people thought children would be traumatized by the depiction of monsters with such big claws and teeth. Against all odds (in the minds of concerned parents and sheltering librarians anyway), it was a runaway success with children. It won the Caldecott Medal, the award for the most distinguished picture book children.
For me, “Where The Wild Things Are” exemplifies an approach to kids’ entertainment that is sorely lacking—it succeeds with kids because it’s not trite or condescending.
I’m sure we’ve read bad children’s books and watched bad children’s shows. These days summer blockbuster kids’ movies likely involve a healthy dose of CGI alien butts voiced by The Rock. And this kind of entertainment has its place. There will always be kids—even adults—who enjoy this sort of thing.
But there is a danger behind such dumbed-down entertainment. Children occupy such a peculiar realm, as small beings who live in such a large world. There is a remarkable capacity for wonder in children, and Maurice Sendak understood that. It’s not something to discredit or dismiss.
The beauty of good literature, especially kid’s literature, is how much it can engage the reader. A kid’s book doesn’t need to necessarily educate or inform children (or adults) but when it’s cloyingly condescending it harms the child more than helps it. That’s something else Maurice Sendak understood.
From my own experience, the best children’s entertainment has “childish” elements in it without being exclusively for children. Or, rather, it doesn’t cut any creative corners or box itself into the “children are stupid so we’ll give them a stupid show they’ll like” mentality.
For instance, one of the shows I grew up with was “Animaniacs,” which was insane and off the wall. But there were parts of it—swaths actually—that had jokes no child would have gotten the first time around, or the fourth time around. And it stayed on air. Hell, it even got away with a “finger Prince” joke.
And today, plenty of college kids all sway and titter uncontrollably at shows like “Adventure Time” and “Regular Show;” even a show like “My Little Pony” has been appropriated by teen/collegiate guys aka “bronies.”
This also addresses another fundamental issue with children’s entertainment: how we define children. It’s an enormous question, and I don’t claim to have any answers, but it’s not enough to say they’re irrational little poop machines which require constant care and sheltering. Nor are children adults in miniature.
Delmore Schwartz, a once-famous author, has a great quote on the subject: “The child is the mystery of this life.” It’s a beautiful sentiment—it entails a great deal of respect for children and an acknowledgement that adults are not the ultimate authority on childhood.
Perhaps what confounds people—especially people who don’t understand why a child would want to read a book like “Where The Wild Things Are” or watch a show like “Adventure Time”—is that they were once children. Maybe they still are; there is no absolute demarcation between children and adults.
It’s something we wrestle with, especially regarding what we teach and show our children. Maurice Sendak knew the struggle and chose to ignore it. He just wrote. And children will always be lucky to have him.
Do you have any questions or comments, cries of outrage? Direct them at your man Sean at sreichard@wisc.edu.
