"The gentle reader will never, never know what a consummate ass he can become until he goes abroad." Mark Twain, Innocents Abroad
Friday, 19 June 2009
Don't fuck it up, Jonze and Eggers
Where the Wild Things Are is the first book I remember reading on my own, the first book I got obsessed about. I would pester Miss Paine to have me read it aloud during show and tell to our first grade class almost daily (I also have a clear memory of on Columbus Day unashamedly singing an a cappella version of 1492 to the whole class at my own insistence - I've changed a bit since then).
Last time I was back at my parent's house, I was rummaging around in the basement and in a dusty box of my old things had a discovery that made a catch in the throat, a tear come to my eye: my old hardcover copy of the book, now about 40 years old, still with the bite marks when Sligo, our beloved Saint Bernard/Lab mix, got a hold of it, and the chip in the corner from when I bashed it over my sister's head (literature does have its practical uses).
So I was delighted to hear a while ago that Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers were teaming up for a movie version. But I was appalled at the rough cut trailer they released at the beginning of the year. It looked rubbish. But I think I was a bit premature; the new trailer looks brilliant and I am more than a bit excited about Eggers' novelisation, particularly the fur-covered edition. Yes, you read that right.
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