bookmoviebook:

The Wild Things by Dave Eggers

In The Wild Things, Dave Eggers clearly shows his understanding of the Book->Movie->Book genre and expertly turns it on its head.

In the B->M->B canon, each adaptation manages to brilliantly gut the nuances of character and plot, reducing the story to a bare bones, empty shell of its original self. The Wild Things defies this standard precept of B->M->B, instead turning a poignant, touching children’s book into a weighty 287-pager.

But here is the genius: Eggers manages to subvert the genre while simultaneously cheapening the meaning of the original story! It’s beautiful.

Eggers’s protagonist, Max, reveals bits of wisdom throughout the story. Upon hitting his sister’s head in the face with a snowball:

“He looked out his peephole, and could see Claire helping Meika, who was crying, her face red and raw. Why would anyone cry about getting hit in the face with a ball of ice and snow falling from the sky after almost hitting the sun?”

That is the worst question anyone has ever asked, fictional or non.

Max’s friend’s mom is also shamelessly two-dimensional, like the best of the B->M->B characters. The neurotic woman chases a bicycle-riding Max, who turns into the woods. “Molesters! Drugs! Homeless! Needles!” she screams in a scene that could have come out of Dennis the Menace.

But at least the Dennis the Menace DVD includes a “fun activity book.”

— Doug Campbell