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My Brother's Book
Goodreads Choice Award
Nominee for Best Picture Books (2013)Fifty years after Where the Wild Things Are was published comes the last book Maurice Sendak completed before his death in May 2012, My Brother's Book. With influences from Shakespeare and William Blake, Sendak pays homage to his late brother, Jack, whom he credited for his passion for writing and drawing. Pairing Sendak's poignant poetry with his exquisite and dramatic artwork, this book redefines what mature readers expect from Maurice Sendak while continuing the lasting legacy he created over his long, illustrious career. Sendak's tribute to his brother is an expression of both grief and love and will resonate with his lifelong fans who may have read his children's books and will be ecstatic to discover something for them now. Pulitzer Prize–winning literary critic and Shakespearean scholar Stephen Greenblatt contributes a moving introduction.
31 pages, Hardcover
First published February 5, 2013
About the author
Maurice Sendak
344 books2,125 followersMaurice Bernard Sendak was an American writer and illustrator of children's literature who is best known for his book Where the Wild Things Are, published in 1963. An elementary school (from kindergarten to grade five) in North Hollywood, California is named in his honor.
Sendak was born in Brooklyn, New York, to Polish-Jewish immigrant parents, and decided to become an illustrator after viewing Walt Disney's film Fantasia at the age of twelve. His illustrations were first published in 1947 in a textbook titled Atomics for the Millions by Dr. Maxwell Leigh Eidinoff. He spent much of the 1950s working as an artist for children's books, before beginning to write his own stories.
Sendak was born in Brooklyn, New York, to Polish-Jewish immigrant parents, and decided to become an illustrator after viewing Walt Disney's film Fantasia at the age of twelve. His illustrations were first published in 1947 in a textbook titled Atomics for the Millions by Dr. Maxwell Leigh Eidinoff. He spent much of the 1950s working as an artist for children's books, before beginning to write his own stories.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 233 reviews
February 18, 2013
One of the greatest interviews I've ever seen took place only a few years ago between Maurice Sendak and Stephen Colbert for the latter's television show. Broadcast over two nights--three if you include clips broadcast the night after Sendak's death--the interview was noteworthy for more than a few reasons, the most important being the similarities both men shared. Yes, they were separated by decades--Sendak was in his 80s at the time and visibly ill, while Colbert was in his forties--as well as by backgrounds and careers. After all, Sendak was gay, Jewish, and from a small family, whereas Colbert grew up one of 11 children in a Catholic home. But they were also two men who found serious faults in the world in which they lived and chose to express their anger, frustration, and overall disappointment with humanity in different ways. Colbert took to satire, and four weeks a night he lampoons the thoughtless, compassionless, hypocritical, and megalomaniacal members of our society, often found in positions of great power and influence, by imitating their brazen selfishness and egotism to the point of hyperbole. Sendak, on the other hand, chose to be thoughtful, compassionate, and humble towards those who had the least amount of power and influence in our society: children.
As Colbert noted in his interview, Sendak's books do not talk down to children or attempt to sanitize the world they live in and will someday inherit; the truths, failings, and horrors that come with adulthood appear frequently in Sendak's books through the prism of a child's mind. There is death, disappointment, and loss, especially where animals are concerned, and few if any of his books come with what one would consider a happy, uplifting resolution. Sendak even illustrated Tony Kushner's Brundibar, a story based on the one performed by children in Terezin, a Nazi concentration camp. When Colbert asked him, naturally, about his reputation as an author-illustrator of children's books, Sendak responded, "I don't write for children....I write, and somebody says, 'That's for children.' I didn't set out to make children happy or make life better for them or easier for them." When Colbert pressed him, Sendak admitted he liked children slightly more than he liked adults, which wasn't saying much because "I really don't like adults at all, practically." It's this outlook on adults--that they're unpleasant, unwise, and prone to stupidity--that makes Sendak's book all the more fascinating, considering he's essentially writing books about adult themes for readers who aren't yet adults, whether he intended to or not. In a sense, he's trying to teach millions of children a lesson about the world before they, too, are old enough and powerful enough to make the same mistakes. He wants them to be better, smarter, more mature, and he does this by presenting a world that exists both honestly and fantastically. Real life, he is telling his readers, can be strangle and ugly, yes, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful.
Perhaps the greatest similarity both men share has little to do with their adult work, ironically, but tragedies both suffered in their personal lives. Much of Sendak's extended family perished in the Holocaust, and Sendak's brother Jack--an inspiration and two-time collaborator--died in 1995 at the age of 71, while Colbert's father and two of his brothers died in a plane crash when Colbert was only 10 years old. Very little affects a child more than being surrounded by death and all the emotions it entails, and what is death but just another honest part of an honest world? It's this nakedness toward death and the emotions it entails that form the basis of My Brother's Book, Sendak's last work: a short poem inspired by Shakespeare and accompanied by artwork reminiscent of William Blake. The story concerns two brothers who are wrenched apart by a cosmic occurrence, a meteor standing in for death, and drift apart on a planet now split in two--Guy's world is light and populated by an anthropomorphic bear, Jack's world is cold and brutal, transforming him over five years into a tree--only to come together in the end, a bittersweet reunion, an embrace that is tinged with the knowledge that the only way both brothers can truly be together again is not in life or a stitched-together world but in death. Jack does not unfreeze, un-root, or de-branch to join the living; instead, he wraps his brother in his bark-branch arms to keep him safe and allow him to dream.
There's little question that Sendak's poem is profound and well-written, just as there's no question his artwork is stunning. But as you close the book, which can be read in around five minutes, you feel underwhelmed. There's so much here but, somehow, so little. You want more, crave more, even though you know that this story is as long as it needs to be, and any more would have soured this bittersweet morsel of a story. The feeling you experience after finishing the book is joy for having read it, followed by despondency--you're slowly but suddenly aware there will never be another Sendak book, ever. The man is gone now, sleeping in the arms of his brother, wherever that cold half-planet may be, deaf to our pleas for more. Yes, we are selfish for wanting more in the face of such an irreversible loss, one that touches us only distantly and impersonally as readers rather than family or friend, but what better reason to be selfish than for a book like this, and what better person to be selfish for than a man with such a heart for those he loved?
This review was originally published at There Will Be Books Galore
As Colbert noted in his interview, Sendak's books do not talk down to children or attempt to sanitize the world they live in and will someday inherit; the truths, failings, and horrors that come with adulthood appear frequently in Sendak's books through the prism of a child's mind. There is death, disappointment, and loss, especially where animals are concerned, and few if any of his books come with what one would consider a happy, uplifting resolution. Sendak even illustrated Tony Kushner's Brundibar, a story based on the one performed by children in Terezin, a Nazi concentration camp. When Colbert asked him, naturally, about his reputation as an author-illustrator of children's books, Sendak responded, "I don't write for children....I write, and somebody says, 'That's for children.' I didn't set out to make children happy or make life better for them or easier for them." When Colbert pressed him, Sendak admitted he liked children slightly more than he liked adults, which wasn't saying much because "I really don't like adults at all, practically." It's this outlook on adults--that they're unpleasant, unwise, and prone to stupidity--that makes Sendak's book all the more fascinating, considering he's essentially writing books about adult themes for readers who aren't yet adults, whether he intended to or not. In a sense, he's trying to teach millions of children a lesson about the world before they, too, are old enough and powerful enough to make the same mistakes. He wants them to be better, smarter, more mature, and he does this by presenting a world that exists both honestly and fantastically. Real life, he is telling his readers, can be strangle and ugly, yes, but that doesn't make it any less beautiful.
Perhaps the greatest similarity both men share has little to do with their adult work, ironically, but tragedies both suffered in their personal lives. Much of Sendak's extended family perished in the Holocaust, and Sendak's brother Jack--an inspiration and two-time collaborator--died in 1995 at the age of 71, while Colbert's father and two of his brothers died in a plane crash when Colbert was only 10 years old. Very little affects a child more than being surrounded by death and all the emotions it entails, and what is death but just another honest part of an honest world? It's this nakedness toward death and the emotions it entails that form the basis of My Brother's Book, Sendak's last work: a short poem inspired by Shakespeare and accompanied by artwork reminiscent of William Blake. The story concerns two brothers who are wrenched apart by a cosmic occurrence, a meteor standing in for death, and drift apart on a planet now split in two--Guy's world is light and populated by an anthropomorphic bear, Jack's world is cold and brutal, transforming him over five years into a tree--only to come together in the end, a bittersweet reunion, an embrace that is tinged with the knowledge that the only way both brothers can truly be together again is not in life or a stitched-together world but in death. Jack does not unfreeze, un-root, or de-branch to join the living; instead, he wraps his brother in his bark-branch arms to keep him safe and allow him to dream.
There's little question that Sendak's poem is profound and well-written, just as there's no question his artwork is stunning. But as you close the book, which can be read in around five minutes, you feel underwhelmed. There's so much here but, somehow, so little. You want more, crave more, even though you know that this story is as long as it needs to be, and any more would have soured this bittersweet morsel of a story. The feeling you experience after finishing the book is joy for having read it, followed by despondency--you're slowly but suddenly aware there will never be another Sendak book, ever. The man is gone now, sleeping in the arms of his brother, wherever that cold half-planet may be, deaf to our pleas for more. Yes, we are selfish for wanting more in the face of such an irreversible loss, one that touches us only distantly and impersonally as readers rather than family or friend, but what better reason to be selfish than for a book like this, and what better person to be selfish for than a man with such a heart for those he loved?
This review was originally published at There Will Be Books Galore
May 27, 2016
This was a strange, sad, poetic story about fraternal love and loss.
No idea what algorithm produces How Loathsome (which appears to be about a "gender outlaw," whatever that is, at an S&M party) as a you-may-also-like recommendation.
No idea what algorithm produces How Loathsome (which appears to be about a "gender outlaw," whatever that is, at an S&M party) as a you-may-also-like recommendation.
November 16, 2013
This is Sendak's last book, and for those of us who are aging, maybe it's his most powerful and moving, like nothing else, in many ways, than he had done before, as far as I know. It's a children's book in the way that Blake's Songs of Innocence is a children's book, essentially about life-long grief and longing to see again his brother, who died when he was young. It's very complex, something that is more all ages, like those old Warners Brothers cartoons that you can enjoy at 7 and in a different way at 17, and 27, etc. This story is based in part on a tale from within Shakespeare's A Winter's Tale, one of his later plays, and has paintings Sendak does to accompany the story that are kind of amazing, reminiscent of Blake, actually. I maybe love most and am most affected by it because it is story of lifelong grief and longing for the possibility of meeting his brother again "on the other side," that's what's so powerfully affecting, that it is so personal, of course, and raw. And I love the layering of the play and the poetry in arcane, older English. The poetry is not warm, the story is not obviously likable, and the paintings are not obviously child-oriented, at least compared to most silly children's books. This aims high, and maybe aims to Sendak readers across the decades. But I thought it was awesome and powerfully affecting, that he did it, and feels that so powerfully even as he faces death. So cool on the surface, so not for all of us, and yet so raw and personal and kind of universal in that we can all come to understand the deeper project on various levels. It's not our book, it's his brother's book, which is at first kind of a mundane title for such a poetic, kind of erudite project. But then you see that's it's perfect. He uses poetry and drama and ancient mythic stories and a magical pairing style to help us see his brother and how he feels about him and those days together. I bet there are many family memories in this book, that only he and his brother, or maybe his family would get.
Read Adam's review for a fascinating connection between Sendak and Stephen Colbert, who also lost a brother at an early age… Moving connection.
Read Adam's review for a fascinating connection between Sendak and Stephen Colbert, who also lost a brother at an early age… Moving connection.
April 2, 2013
The illustrations owe a deep debt of gratitude to Blake. Stylistically this is the furthest departure from anything he had done previously. (On a more personal note they reminded me a lot of the type of illustration my own grandmother tended to gravitate towards at the end of her life.) There is a beautiful sense of the infinite displayed in a frame of the finite.
Prose wise I suppose at this point everyone must know it's roots are firmly planted in the land of Shakespeare, being perhaps the most admirable attempt to complete Prince Mamillius the story begun in "A Winter's Tale". There's a deep sense of grief and longing in these short, simple passages. The melancholy feel of the reunion is beautifully written and does credit to the source material that served as inspiration. The same wild, naturalistic images that AWT is seeped in make an interesting transition to Sendak's text. Perhaps the most touching parts for me personally, was seeing how the two brothers interacted at the end - unselfconsciously, instinctually, and without shame.
A fine note for a fine writer to end on.
Prose wise I suppose at this point everyone must know it's roots are firmly planted in the land of Shakespeare, being perhaps the most admirable attempt to complete Prince Mamillius the story begun in "A Winter's Tale". There's a deep sense of grief and longing in these short, simple passages. The melancholy feel of the reunion is beautifully written and does credit to the source material that served as inspiration. The same wild, naturalistic images that AWT is seeped in make an interesting transition to Sendak's text. Perhaps the most touching parts for me personally, was seeing how the two brothers interacted at the end - unselfconsciously, instinctually, and without shame.
A fine note for a fine writer to end on.
April 13, 2013
This book is a spell of longing. Don't believe those who say "it's not for children." Poetry is for everyone, and especially those who like to discuss ideas, artistic expressions and sincerity. I could easily see this book being the basis of a very meaningful discussion between parents and children about death and how we miss those we're parted from. Or a conversation about how writers and artists "converse" with each other through their works (ie, Sendak's visual references to Blake or textual references to Shakespeare in this book). A gem that should be in every library.
June 24, 2013
If you loved Maurice Sendak, or hold one/many of his stories dear, read this book. It will take you five minutes (on your first run-through.) Then, you might think, "Huh?" The next day, you'll read it aloud, twice. Maybe read a more thorough review or article about it and find you appreciate it more. It is a love poem, a eulogy and Sendak's sad, lovely finale.
April 1, 2013
Meh. If I read a study guide of this I might have enjoyed it more - indeed, I noticed I liked reading about it (on an NPR review, I think) more than actually reading it. For me there just wasn't much to it. Which I feel bad saying.
November 7, 2012
Gorgeous and heartbreaking.
November 12, 2018
An artistic book for all ages of those who are into the weird & metaphysical & symbolic... which leaves out me and most children. My library had it shelved as poetry, at least, but in Juvenile... I think it befuddles catalogers.
August 17, 2024
No se xq hoy aprendí sobre la vida de Sendak y ahora tengo una nostalgia un poco falsa con el.
February 4, 2013
Damn, somebody loved William Blake
September 9, 2019
Extra star because pretty pictures at least?
October 4, 2020
Not as enjoyable as Where the Wild Things Are.
August 13, 2013
My Brother's Book by Maurice Sendak
Lovely, Sorrowful, Poignant, Bittersweet...
This is one of those books that will stay with you long after you put it down. The illustrations are gorgeous and Sendak's poem to his brother Jack is both heartbreakingly beautiful and comforting "And Jack slept safe, enfolded in his brother's arms. And Guy whispered, "Good night..."
It's impossible not to be moved by this book, especially in light of Sendak's recent death. It so perfectly captures the unwavering loss felt at the death of a loved one - a loss that does not lessen with time, but instead becomes more acute as days turn into months and then to years.
As other reviewers have commented, buy one for yourself, for your sibling(s), for your friends. I can imagine giving this book as a gift to someone who has suffered a recent loss, as well. Comforting words are so difficult to find when someone we care for is grieving. This book, instead, offers a deep understanding that can only be found among those who have loved deeply and mourned with passion.
Finally, it must be noted that this book is beautifully constructed, as well. With gorgeously heavy paper, forest green cloth-covered and embossed boards, and a dust jacket that is both delicate and substantial - this is a book that begs to be held and caressed. I realize that may sound a bit heavy handed to some readers, but fellow bibliophiles will be nodding in agreement.
Lovely, Sorrowful, Poignant, Bittersweet...
This is one of those books that will stay with you long after you put it down. The illustrations are gorgeous and Sendak's poem to his brother Jack is both heartbreakingly beautiful and comforting "And Jack slept safe, enfolded in his brother's arms. And Guy whispered, "Good night..."
It's impossible not to be moved by this book, especially in light of Sendak's recent death. It so perfectly captures the unwavering loss felt at the death of a loved one - a loss that does not lessen with time, but instead becomes more acute as days turn into months and then to years.
As other reviewers have commented, buy one for yourself, for your sibling(s), for your friends. I can imagine giving this book as a gift to someone who has suffered a recent loss, as well. Comforting words are so difficult to find when someone we care for is grieving. This book, instead, offers a deep understanding that can only be found among those who have loved deeply and mourned with passion.
Finally, it must be noted that this book is beautifully constructed, as well. With gorgeously heavy paper, forest green cloth-covered and embossed boards, and a dust jacket that is both delicate and substantial - this is a book that begs to be held and caressed. I realize that may sound a bit heavy handed to some readers, but fellow bibliophiles will be nodding in agreement.
February 16, 2013
An amazing last work in the life of a great artist. I had no idea what I was in for when I settled in bed last night and opened this small book. In this tale, a star hits the earth, separates two brothers, Jack (the name of Sendak's real brother, who died in 1995) and Guy, and throws them out of paradise. Jack is sent to a continent of ice ("his poor nose froze") and Guy is sent to soft Bohemia where a polar bear devours him piece by piece. He winds up past paradise where he and Jack are locked in an eternal embrace. “Good night/And you will dream of me.” Many people will point out that the illustrations are brilliantly derivative of William Blake and the extraordinary poetic dialogue spins off from Shakespeare--mostly "A Winter's Tale." But the finished product belongs to Sendak. I've never been a big fan, but I love this book.
"Who he loves more than his own self" is a refreshing departure from Sendak's stream of naughty, rather self-absorbed boys. "A sad riddle is best for me" is a marvelous epitaph.
"Who he loves more than his own self" is a refreshing departure from Sendak's stream of naughty, rather self-absorbed boys. "A sad riddle is best for me" is a marvelous epitaph.
February 17, 2013
This is Maurice Sendak's last book. It is known that his brother and his partner died before it was Maurice's time to go to the other world. Jack was "catapulted" to continents of ice "on a bleak midwinter's night. With the brilliance of Shakespeare mixed with Maurice's own unique way of expression, Jack was taken away and became a "snow ghost," to Maurice's chagrin. As Maurice's time came near to reunite with his loved ones, especially his brother Jack, he whispers a riddle to a bear, and like magic, Maurice becomes part the earth, lying under the stars, wrapped up in the love of his brother once again. "And Jack slept safe, Enfolded in his brother's arms." Rest in Peace, Maurice and Jack.
February 20, 2013
I'm not familiar with A Winter's Tale, but I definitely see the William Blake influence in this book, not only in the illustrations but also in the meter of the opening lines, if I remember correctly. I don't have the book in hand to compare since there's a long waiting list for this book at my library. Isn't that a lovely thought, a big demand for poetry in my community? Anyways, I snuck a read at the end of my shift as it was sent to another location for another reader.
February 26, 2016
What a lovely gem of a book. In a short number of pages, Sendak painted images and wove a rich tapestry of poetic work.
A song to his brother Jack and Eugene Glynn, his partner of 50 years, it is a haunting poem of life that transcends death. Of love that shines through the veil of darkness. Death, frozen in icy cold transcends to warmth of love that knows no boundaries.
This was Sendak's last book and it is powerful.
A song to his brother Jack and Eugene Glynn, his partner of 50 years, it is a haunting poem of life that transcends death. Of love that shines through the veil of darkness. Death, frozen in icy cold transcends to warmth of love that knows no boundaries.
This was Sendak's last book and it is powerful.
February 6, 2017
This is not a work that everyone is going to love but I do, oh, I do. But then again, if you have the influence of Shakespeare (especially Winter's Tale) and Blake, you know I am going to love this one. It filled me with melancholy but that is not a bad thing. This is the perfect "last book" for Sendak and I believe that his reunion with his brother was incredible.
October 1, 2019
Dense, dreamy, and inaccessible; also intuitive and heartfelt, mythologizing the ineffability of grief. This was for me more emotional for its posthumous status and its focus on death than for the text itself, because it doesn't resonate with my conceptions of loss--these aren't my metaphors. But it's one of those quietly demanding books that gives back whatever effort the reader puts in. I liked it more on reread; I like it even more now, a few days later.
June 2, 2013
I loved
Where the Wild Things Are
as a child and still do as an adult. I think part of my problem in my approach to this book was that I really wanted it to be just like Where the Wild Things and it's not. This is a grown-up book for those of us who love Sendak. This is a book for the wild things who have, or are expecting to have someday, little wild things of their own, or who can only look back on their days of wild thingness with nostalgia. This is a story of love that is hard and deep and painful and sad. This is a book of loss and heartache. I did not want that. I wanted a book of hope and good things to come to those who only had to wait for a short time but instead got a story of separation and a short eternity of wandering and searching.
Knowing this was Sendak's last work, I deliberately read it slowly and savored its words and art. His style reminiscent of Blake is achingly beautiful and there are many images in this book that I would love to get a print of to hang on my wall. The story itself is simple and yet also muddled in a way that I did not expect. While the story of Where the Wild Things is simple and clear (except in the magical facts of how exactly Max comes to the jungle where the wild things live) this book's text is not as precise and details seem secondary to the story itself.
As I reread the book before writing this review, I felt a little closer to grasping the story's poetry and lyricism, but still feel this is a book I will have to return to again and again before I really feel comfortable with it, an admittedly uncomfortable feeling since Sendak's other books are so much more accessible; his other works have a way of just 'clicking' with the reader. This piece is different. Maybe it is because it is more grown-up and I am more grown-up, and I now know there is a gravity to Sendak's words that require a deeper thoughtfulness in order to reach understanding. And that I know is a good thing.
Knowing this was Sendak's last work, I deliberately read it slowly and savored its words and art. His style reminiscent of Blake is achingly beautiful and there are many images in this book that I would love to get a print of to hang on my wall. The story itself is simple and yet also muddled in a way that I did not expect. While the story of Where the Wild Things is simple and clear (except in the magical facts of how exactly Max comes to the jungle where the wild things live) this book's text is not as precise and details seem secondary to the story itself.
As I reread the book before writing this review, I felt a little closer to grasping the story's poetry and lyricism, but still feel this is a book I will have to return to again and again before I really feel comfortable with it, an admittedly uncomfortable feeling since Sendak's other books are so much more accessible; his other works have a way of just 'clicking' with the reader. This piece is different. Maybe it is because it is more grown-up and I am more grown-up, and I now know there is a gravity to Sendak's words that require a deeper thoughtfulness in order to reach understanding. And that I know is a good thing.
March 27, 2013
I hate to discount all of my feelings and opinions because I'm feeling really emotional and hormonal (due to pregnancy) but I kind of cried over this book in a boo-hoo way that I might not have under normal circumstances. And then I read it through several times in a row. Before I read the book, I read this and then I read it again afterwards. it's good and really helped me to contextualize My Brother's Book.
I also found that this book is about 20x better if you read it out loud. Several times.
I also found that this book is about 20x better if you read it out loud. Several times.
March 27, 2013
Much more brief than I expected, and beautifully illustrated. It left me with Feelings, but mostly just of a sad and beautiful goodbye - nothing I can elaborate on very much. It references Shakespeare and Blake, and my understanding of those connections is limited, but I still appreciated it. It's an elegy, and it's very Sendak, and so...the Feelings. I have them. I will read it again before I return it to the library, just to absorb it better.
March 14, 2013
If you heard Sendak's interviews before he died (Fresh Air, Colbert), you know of the great sadness he felt at loved ones passing before him, particularly his brother and his partner. This book is an elegy for them -- a sad, poetic book with illustrations reminiscent of William Blake and words echoing Shakespeare. I particularly like the image on p. 21.
"It's the kind of fairytale a grieving child tells, a lament, a consolation, and a farewell."
"It's the kind of fairytale a grieving child tells, a lament, a consolation, and a farewell."
February 18, 2013
A short poem, packed with so much pain, love, and ultimately hope; hope that Guy will be with his brother again. And knowing that this was written by Sendak for his dead brother, Jack, and knowing that Maurice is now gone, too, this made for a very teary read for me on this Monday morning.
Beautiful.
Beautiful.
February 21, 2013
Haunting. Not a children's picture book, I know many people out there appreciate it for what it is, a tribute to Sendak's deceased brother, and (probably) the last complete work we'll see from the author/illustrator. I can't think of a child I would hand this to, though. For fans of Sendak, it's a wonderful gift.
March 20, 2013
I don't see this as a book for children. While children do need to be exposed to poetry at an early age, I think this is a bit too deep for them to appreciate. Just because Maurice Sendak wrote for children doesn't mean that all his books are for children.
That all being said, this is a very beautiful book.
That all being said, this is a very beautiful book.
May 21, 2015
What a strange and beautiful book.
The introduction, which attempts to contextualize the work, is wildly unnecessary. I would almost wonder if it was meant to be ironic, but I know it wasn't.
Otherwise, this is as comfortable and unsettling as fragments of a dream, puzzled over the morning after.
The introduction, which attempts to contextualize the work, is wildly unnecessary. I would almost wonder if it was meant to be ironic, but I know it wasn't.
Otherwise, this is as comfortable and unsettling as fragments of a dream, puzzled over the morning after.
April 22, 2016
Uncanny how even when I think I am reading something else... BOOM! I'm reading death books.
I thought I had been slipped some acid on this one, but no - just Sendak meets Shakespeare meets Blake.
Odd, odd book. But I had a patient a year ago who cried daily to be reunited with her dead sisters. If only I had known about this then.
I thought I had been slipped some acid on this one, but no - just Sendak meets Shakespeare meets Blake.
Odd, odd book. But I had a patient a year ago who cried daily to be reunited with her dead sisters. If only I had known about this then.
March 6, 2013
I know everybody else liked this book. I didn't. The pictures are neat, but very small, and I think the poem could have been put on one page and we could have called it a day. Now, I don't know how involved he was in this posthumously printed book, so maybe not his fault? eh.
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