FICTION

My Brother's Book

illus. by author. 32p. HarperCollins/Michael Di Capua. Feb. 2013. Tr $18.95. ISBN 978-0-06-223489-6. LC 2012942549.
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Gr 7 Up—In Sendak's final opus, as in his life, a youth yearns to be with his beloved brother. A cosmic cataclysm has divided them, leaving Jack ensconced in "iced eternity." Guy is prepared to join him-whatever the risk. While this sounds dire, the author's synthesis of ideas from a wide span of literature and art, combined with exquisitely illuminated scenes, conveys instead a quest in which the ultimate sacrifice leads to complete fulfillment. Free-verse narration accommodates the breadth of referents. The Winter's Tale inspires a dialogue that occurs after Guy has floated into Bohemia, where his body is inserted, head first, into a bear's gigantic jaws (minus the violence in Goya's similarly posed Saturn Devouring His Children). Sendak softens the potential terror with a proposition from the protagonist: his life for an answer to a winter riddle: "In February it will be/My snowghost's anniversary/…Bear!-Tell me!-Whither?-Where?" Guy then "slipped into the [bear's] maw" and dissolved "into springtime." The bear is a complex character that uses strong language, yet his final stance suggests a capacity for gentleness. Stylistically, the three-quarter-page paintings reveal the artist's admiration for Samuel Palmer (a student of William Blake), particularly in the tender conclusion: two figures in peaceful repose under a leaf-drenched landscape, streams of dazzling watercolor erupting before a glow that warms the once-frozen setting. The frontispiece version of this scene indicates that the story is "…two brothers, dreaming the same dream." One last example of Sendak's daring, poignant, mysterious storytelling.—Wendy Lukehart, Washington DC Public Library
If, as Wordsworth wrote, "poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity," Sendak's vision of a Dante-esque search for his beloved brother Jack (1924-1995) is poetry in both word and art -- though tranquility is only achieved with reunion in the sleep of death. In an eloquent introduction, Shakespeare scholar Stephen Greenblatt links this posthumous book to A Winter's Tale, "absorbed, redistributed, and transformed into something rich and strange" and also notes the familiar Sendakian relationship between love and menace. Indeed. "Guy's" dreamlike quest is riddled with such opposites: light and dark, heaven and the underworld, fire and ice, winter and spring. The visual imagery in the postcard-sized art is haunting, with nude adult figures recalling William Blake's ardent seekers after truth; the sleeping babes in the wood; and multiple moons (now faceless, unlike in We Are All in the Dumps with Jack and Guy, rev. 1/94) plus stars and suns. Some of Sendak's most poignant themes take on even more resonance and universality. Holocaust references, while still present, are not explicit. Eating, or being eaten by, a powerful figure now involves a bear -- not Shakespeare's, exactly, but a polar bear that is intrinsic to the brothers' transfiguration. As the ultimate not-for-little-children Sendak, this profoundly personal book about loss and healing should find its audience among thoughtful adults (and perhaps some teenagers). joanna rudge long

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