Where the Wild Things Are - Maurice Sendak, Spike Jonze, Dave Eggers

So, the news is that Dave Eggers is publishing a novelization of Where the Wild Things Are, based on his screenplay for the movie and, of course, Maurice Sendak's original concept. A taste of the novel, "Max at Sea," is published in last week's New Yorker and, truth be told, left me confused as to how on earth this novel, based on a screenplay based on a children's book, will even work.

I've never been one of Dave Eggers' legion of fans. I've followed his career more by happenstance than anything else - happened upon A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius when it first came out (enjoyed it but have no enduring memories of it), happened upon the cult of his following in successive years, happened to resist and resent the adulation he seemed to inspire in the generation preceding me (perhaps one of the reasons I've never been able to jump fully on the Eggers bandwagon), and, most recently, happened upon Away We Go, for which he wrote the screenplay with his partner, Vendela Vida, and happened to find it one of the best films of the year so far. And now Eggers has entwined his destiny with that of Wild Things, so I have to grant him some good will.

Even so, it strikes me that only a particular kind of hubris would attempt a serious novelization of Wild Things, particularly after it's already been worked into a movie (one that promises to be as inventive and entertaining as the original children's book). It's a classic case of not knowing where to stop, of stretching a good idea too far and too thin, to the point that it begins to show wear and tear. One must ask of a novelization: what more will it add to the concept? Atop the picture book and the film, how will it deepen and expand the story? These are the questions I had as I came to Eggers' piece in The New Yorker.

Those questions weren't sufficiently answered, but they were quickly replaced by other, more urgent ones. In a novel of this type (documenting a story with such a long and auspicious history), what should be the tone? The point of view? Who is the audience?--that is, does Eggers expect to reach children, nostalgic adults, or both? To his credit, Eggers does manage to capture the frustration of a pre-teen boy rather well, and his characterizations (or rather, caricatures) of Max's mother, sister, and mother's "chinless" boyfriend are deft and amusing. The tone is more inscrutable, and the intended audience obscure. It seemed a piece perfectly suited to a young audience, and yet the novel promises a length and depth that might be challenging for children (though, given Harry Potter, perhaps our literate youth are far more up to that challenge than we think).

Most confusing of all, the piece neither seemed suited for an "excerpt" (not much of an arc), nor held promise of a rich story. In other words, there was too little arc for a short piece (a la New Yorker) and far too much arc to be a feasible section of a novel. Too much happens in this one piece: Eggers expands on the picture book but not by much, which left me wondering what purpose this excerpt will serve in the novel, how much novel will far before and after it, and if it's merely a bit of publicity for the upcoming film (and novel) and is in no way reflective of the actual arc of the novel.

A book like this--having a child narrator and yet still appealing to adults--can be done, and it can be done well. (The Neverending Story strikes me as a particularly analogous example.) In this excerpt, however, Eggers retains too much of the World and not enough of the Magic, sticking almost slavishly to Sendak's depictions of the Wild Things and forgoing his own license to create. I might still buy the book (and if so, I suppose this preview piece will have had its intended effect and render my current opinions moot), but I fear it will be an Eggers product that happens, this time, to disappoint.