Confession: I’ve never read Where the Wild Things Are. I know, I know, it’s only ten sentences long. But I don’t think I’d even heard of it until college, when I learned it was not only a children’s book but this huge cultural meme, but by then it kinda seemed too late for me, you know? It’s like with this friend of mine, who had, by the age of eighteen, never eaten a peach and subsequently vowed never to do so; every time she considered it, she couldn’t help but wonder, Why now?
This is the problem when the first books you remember reading are encyclopedias and when you’re forced by your Hardass Asian Dad to learn algebra and geometry in the 3rd grade. You miss all of these childhood touchstones. Or you don’t “get” them. You certainly don’t spend a whole lot of time reading books like Where the Wild Things Are that actually acknowledge a child’s “feelings.” (I didn’t like Sesame Street either. I always thought it was talking down to me and that Big Bird was a creep.)
So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to approach this completely ass-backwards the way any former-overachieving-child-who-missed-out-on-all-kinds-of-cool-kids’-shit-to-learn-geometry would. First, I’m going to buy the Karen O and the Kids-composed soundtrack that was released yesterday (and is also streaming for free at Stereogum). Because Karen O rules my universe. And then I’m going to see the movie when it opens on October 16. Lastly, I’m going to FINALLY read the book. All ten sentences of it. And maybe, just maybe, I’m going to “get” it, too.
Buy the Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack here.
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