Of course, Where the Wild Things Are is an absolute, stand-alone classic. But whether or not you believe the story of Max required some added depth and detail, Dave Eggers’ new novelization of Sendak’s beloved story is bitter-sweet, frightening, hilarious, and absolutely worth reading. Rather than attempting to replace Sendak’s book, or to simply flush out its themes, The Wild Things serves instead as a tribute to the strange and endearing creatures on Max’s faraway island and to childhood itself; in particular, it’s a story about a boy who is struggling to come to terms with his own reality.

Living with his divorced mother and an older sister—who is in the process of discovering her own identity—Max, like any child in his situation, is desperate for attention and stability, and it seems that every adult he encounters projects some different form of chaos into his life. His school teacher informs him about global warming and the imminent death of the sun. A neighbor lady follows him home, eventually at sprinting speed, insisting that a boy his age “should not be out riding a bike without the supervision of an adult.” His mother is inconsistently present, and her boyfriend Gary takes long naps on the couch and makes painfully awkward conversation.

The tensions in Max’s life, of course, come to a head, and he finds himself in a wooden ship, sailing “in an out of days” towards an island in the middle of a large and quiet sea, where eventually he will be named King and charged with the prosperity of the island and its strange inhabitants.

Although the book advertises itself as an “All-Ages” novel, it’s written wholeheartedly for those adults who remember—and loved—Sendak’s famous story. I highly recommend an out loud reading (even without children present.) ~Jared