I grew up with Maurice Sendak's 'Where the Wild Things are'. There's probably a little or a lot of Max in me. I love the Wild Rumpus, but I also love the coming home to the hot dinner. When did I fall in love with the line: 'and he sailed off thorugh night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to where the wild things are'? Was I five or twenty five? I was without the book for many years, but I always remebered that the last five words were: 'and it was still hot'.
So Floppy Moo. Well the other day she was in here with her reading group and they were reading it. Did she read it because she had heard me claiming it was my favourite book of all time a couple of days before? I don't know, but the group sat and read it and pulled it apart to reconstruct meaning and then she did it, she ruined it. The book has been around all my life and never has anyone asked: 'What happened to Max?'. She asked with such persistence over and over that finally she provided her own answer. And every cell in my body screamed out NO!
As a child with big eyes and slightly open mouth, I just believed. As an adult I still believe in Max. Maybe I believe now more than ever. Maybe as a writer I have to believe. So my plea is just believe in Max.
And would someone somewhere please end my nightmare with France Telecom. I am at work using their phone and their internet connection in the hope of sorting out this rubbish SOON.