Where the Wild Things Are was one of my favorite books from childhood. I can remember checking it out of the library over and over again. I was sure I would wear out our library's copy sooner or later.
As an adult, I still love this book; plus I developed a new appreciation for it when I began reading it to my son practically from the day he was born. I watched him, as a baby, listen to the rhythm of the words as I read, and as he grew into a toddler, I watched him become enthralled with the illustrations, which I also still love. I love that the illustrations of the monsters have an almost mythological quality to them. I can see Gryphons in the wild thing with the eagle-like head, even though he has no lion's body.
Now, at nine, this is still one of my son's favorite books. We read it together often, as we just did again yesterds, and giggle at the rhythm of the words, especially at the "terrible roars", "terrible teeth", "terrible eyes", and "terrible claws" parts.
My favorite thing about this book is how it is such a lovely example of the power of imagination, both on the part of Max, the boy in the book and the author, Maurice Sendak, but also for the readers who can typically see themselves in the book, no matter the age of the reader. To me, this book is timeless.
5 of 5 stars