The Wild Things by Dave Eggers
I got this book in the mail last year, shortly after the movie came out. I saved it for last. I saved it because I wanted my last Cannonball book to be absolutely, without-a-doubt safe. I wanted to anticipate loving it, and not be disappointed. I didn’t want to end on a sour note.
The Wild Things is a loose novelization of the movie adaptation of Where the Wild Things Are, written by my favourite author. As he notes in the afterword, the Max of Where the Wild Things Are (book) is a version of Maurice Sendak. The Max of Where the Wild Things Are (film) is a version of Spike Jonze. The Max of The Wild Things, then, is a version of Dave Eggers.
I could try to explain again why I love his writing, but it’s useless. Useless, and it makes me frustrated because I never can quite get to a conclusion. I just feel it, it connects with my soul on some basic level. I never, ever close an Eggers novel feeling disappointed. And, to re-purpose a compliment given to Max in The Wild Things, I’ll say simply this:
I like your brain, Dave Eggers.
A quick postscript to my two diehards: thank you so much for following my progress on this challenge - good luck with your own! I hope you find it as rewarding as I did.