by Fernando Mendez
Maurice Sendak, born in Brooklyn, New York, in 1928, has written or illustrated more than 100 picture books over his illustrious career. Many of those books, including Where the Wild Things Are and In the Night Kitchen, have inspired generations of children, changed the landscape of picture books, and have redefined the boundaries of what is considered appropriate children’s literature. Like many artists, Sendak’s life, his history, his culture, and personal experiences have shaped and defined his work.
As a child, Sendak was an avid moviegoer. Movies were his ticket in finding acceptance with the neighborhood kids. He became known as an excellent storyteller, often recounting the movies to the other children, building his storytelling skills in the process. Yet, Maurice Sendak was not viewed as the storyteller of the family; that title went to his brother Jack. Maurice was to be the illustrator.2 While he is no slouch in the writing department, it is Sendak’s wonderful, captivating illustrations that have been celebrated all over the world.
As Sendak states, his opinion on the illustrator’s job is to add qualities to the story that even the author was unaware of—finding the story within the story. In the interview he gives to the Rosenbach Museum & Library in Philadelphia, Sendak talks about what he terms “the Other Story,” the hidden meanings he sneaks into his books. 2
Sendak does not fit the idea many have of the children’s literature author. He is not the smiling, warm grandpapa one might envision. In fact, Patricia Cohen’s article for the New York Times spends a good amount of time listing his many hatreds: “He hates anything to do with God or religion, he hates syrupy animation.” He often comes across as a man unsatisfied with both people and life in general. At the time of the article, Mr. Sendak is set to attend an event celebrating both his work and his 80th birthday, yet he seems a little bit of a humbug, maintaining that the honors and awards don’t add up to much. They “never penetrated,” he said. “They were like rubber bullets.” 1 This is not to say that he is an ungrateful, old fuddy-duddy. Only that these superficial emblems do not provide the answers he desires of life, or the satisfaction he seems to always be in search of. He admires the works of Mozart, Keats, Blake, Melville and Dickinson, and yearns for their “ability to follow some spiritual course not written down by anybody,” an ability he feels to be out of his grasp.1 Despite the accolades, praises, and tributes, he insists that a vast distance stands between his own accomplishments and theirs, stating, “I’m not one of those people…I can’t pretend to be.” Sendak feared his work was inadequate, feared he had not risen above the label of “mere illustrator.” 1
The article also touches on the recent loss of his long-time partner. Sendak and his partner Eugene Glynn, a psychoanalyst, lived together for 50 years before Dr. Glynn’s death in May 2007. Sendak lived in a world of secret for many years, deciding not to go public about his homosexuality. While he insists that he never let his homosexuality be known because he “just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” he also admits to never telling his parents because, “All I wanted was to be straight so my parents could be happy. They never, never, never knew.” 1 Sendak was aware that besides his parents’ possible unhappiness with his sexuality, the idea of a gay man writing children books would have hurt his career when he was in his 20s and 30s.
Still, one thing that he has never let stand in the way of his love of writing is the conception of what children’s literature should and should not contain. Many critics, and parents, have questioned the content, themes, and illustrations in his books. As Sendak states, critics believe the subject matter in children’s literature should primarily be “healthy, funny, clever, upbeat, and not show tattered edges of what life is like.” For Sendak, and for the majority of children, “Childhood was a mess of missed signals, missed cues,” often unpolished, and full of tattered edges, not always the bright and sunny depictions often found in children’s literature. Why deny children the realities of life? As Sendak recalls, “I remember what life is like, and I don’t know what else to write about.” 2 Maurice Sendak’s true genius was introducing children to a world that is often confusing, sometimes scary, but always full of wonders.
References:
1. Cohen, Patricia. “Concerns Beyond Just Where the Wild Things Are.” nytimes.com. The New York Times, 9 Sept. 2008. Web. 28 Oct. 2011.
2. There’s a Mystery There: Sendak on Sendak: A Retrospective in Words and Pictures. Rosenbach Museum & Library in Philadelphia. Produced by Portia Productions. DVD.