Goodbyes

The great, cranky genius Maurice Sendak has died at age 83.

Excerpt from a letter by Sendak's editor Ursula Nordstrom to a writer at the New Yorker on Where the Wild Things Are in 1964:

You asked me how "revolutionary" Where the Wild Things Are is. There have been a good many fine picture books in the past. (Some by Margaret Wise Brown, and illustrated by one of two or three or four talented artists.) But I think Wild Things is the first complete work of art in the picture book field, conceived, written, illustrated, executed in entirety by one person of authentic genius. Most books are written from the outside in. But Wild Things comes from the inside out, if you know what I mean. And I think Maurice's book is the first picture book to recognize the fact that children have powerful emotions, anger and love and hate and only after all that passion, the wanting to be "where someone loved him best of all."

And another from her letter responding to a librarian angry about The Night Kitchen's nudity in 1972:

I am indeed distressed to hear that in the year 1972 you burned a copy of a book. We are truly distressed that you think it is not a book for elementary school children. I assume it is the little boy's nudity which bothers you. But truly, it does not disturb children! Mr. Sendak is a creative artist, a true genius, and he is able to speak to children directly. For children—at least up to the age of 12 or 13—are usually tremendously creative themselves. Should not those of us who stand between the creative artist and the child be very careful not to sift our reactions to such books through our own adult prejudices and neuroses? To me as editor and publisher of books for children, that is one of my greatest and most difficult duties. Believe me, we do not take our responsibilities lightly! I think young children will always react with delight to such a book as In the Night Kitchen, and that they will react creatively and wholesomely. It is only adults who ever feel threatened by Sendak's work.

And, finally, some words from Sendak himself in a 2011 NPR interview:

"I have nothing now but praise for my life. I'm not unhappy. I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I love them more. … What I dread is the isolation. … There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready."

May we all be so lucky.

Some of you who've been reading this blog so long you recall its previous homes on blogspot and journalscape might also remember a great number of "Glove Monster" posts during a certain time period. I find it hard to mourn such a problematic personality, but I certainly mourn the kid who gave us some great music, and then grew up too damaged and famous to quite be a whole person. 

Theresa Duncan is dead. This is so strange; I didn’t know her, except through the occasional e-mail and through her blog, The Wit of the Staircase. I always expected we’d meet someday IRL and become great friends.

What a terrible, terrible thing. (Via Ed.) My condolences to those who did know her, and to those grieving over her boyfriend, Jeremy Blake, who is missing.

And now word is starting to spread that one of the victims of this terrible, unthinkable tragedy may be SF writer Michael Bishop‘s son, who apparently teaches/taught German at Virginia Tech. I hope it’s not true. I don’t know Michael Bishop at all, but E Bear is right: the field is small and we’re a family in some odd, real way. And my heart goes out to the Bishops’–if it’s not true, for believing that it was, even for a little while–and to all those who are hurting tonight because they lost someone important to them.

I always have nightmares after a school shooting and I can’t imagine tonight will be different.

Updated: And Locus has now confirmed that Jamie Bishop was among the victims. There is really nothing to say in the face of such senseless tragedy. If you visit the site at that link, you can see some of his beautiful artwork.

On NPR this morning, Gore Vidal was suddenly there, calling Kurt Vonnegut a "good science fiction writer," and so I knew he was dead. His work was very important to me growing up and I got to see him read once. I’m grateful for the work, and the reading, and his life. But, boy, does his dying suck.

Here he is on The Long View, judging the state of modern society.

Updated: Christopher’s Vonnegut stories — that’s the same reading I went to that he describes in part 2.

And see Karen Meisner’s post too.

And Ed has a ton of good links.

As does Maud.

My hero. I can’t quite deal with this one yet.

When Ann Richards shook off this mortal coil last year, the only way I could quite find to deal with it was by calling on the words of Molly Ivins.

It makes me angry that she’s gone, and sad beyond reckoning. A real remembrance to come when I can be a bit less maudlin.

What a lady.

Here’s a bit from her last column in mid-January:

We are the people who run this country. We are the deciders. And every single day, every single one of us needs to step outside and take some action to help stop this war. Raise hell. Think of something to make the ridiculous look ridiculous.

Raise hell. Now that’s a legacy.

Updated: Some memorable quotes here.

AND how lame is it that the NYT apparently still refuses to run "gang pluck"? You’ve got to be kidding!

Best tributes, of course, to be found at The Observer.