Sendak Confronts the "Now" Generation

There I was: front row center, stack of note cards and pencil in hand, cassette recorder on the floor before me with speaker precariously propped on top of my coat. "What would Maurice Sendak be like when facing an auditorium packed with the 'now' generation at the University of Connecticut on December 10, 1970?" I found myself wondering. He had already refused to deliver a formal . . . or informal . . . address. He would only answer questions from the audience.

I had already been favorably impressed the previous evening when I had my first encounter with him. Sendak had seemed to enjoy an informal Polish dinner in his honor and he had mixed agreeably with students, faculty and members of the community.

While waiting his appearance at the podium, I attempted—with some embarrassment—to keep my equipment and belongings from spilling over to the spaces occupied by the students beside me. But they seemed oblivious of my presence as they passed Sendak books back and forth and talked around and through me. I heard such comments as: "'Where the Wild Things Are' is just great!" "Let's have him for lunch. Do you think he's doing anything for lunch?"

Materials anchored better, I ventured to ask the students near me who had already met Sendak at an informal Inner College bull session how he rated with them. They were very vocal. I was told that he ranked as one of the best speakers they had had at the University. He was smart, warm and easy to talk to. "Say, are you with the radio and television people?" one asked.

"Not exactly, " I mumbled, omitting that I was faculty, always primed for an opportunity to ward off the "publish or perish" scare, and in this instance having a vague premonition that I was in for something special.

Then he appeared. Standing there one was struck by the fact that his strong face and manner commanded the attention which his small stature of itself never would.

The first question "Who was your inspiration?" was quickly eliminated. "Try another," he replied. This was but one example of Sendak's direct manner. In addition to the rich mixture of honesty in his answers and the depth of thought and feeling he expressed, one noted the liberal use of hand gestures and the facial features which would fascinate a sculptor.

One had the feeling that Sendak's candidness facilitated an easy two-way dialogue between the author/illustrator and questioners who represented a "mixed bag" of student types. At one point he was asked if he liked young adults. His frank reply was yes—if they were interesting. About midpoint a question card with a smiling sunshine cartoon character sketched at the bottom was passed down front. It asked him for his honest reactions to being at the University. Sendak responded that he liked being there and found it quite a shift from his usual introversion. He was usually by himself, did not keep a journal and does not talk to himself. The visit was an opportunity to "air his head out" and he found that an interested audience stimulated him.

The questions and answers which follow are topically grouped and necessarily rephrased for smooth, concise reporting except where indicated by the use of quotation marks. The condensed dialogue ran the gamut from Sendak's own work to his reactions to the creations of others and publishing in general.

Q:	In what ways was Blake a major influence on your work?
Sendak:	His "Songs of Innocence" and "Songs of Experience" were the works which chiefly affected my work, especially my books done in the fifties. Not everyone realizes that he was both an author and an illustrator. He created the perfect illustrated book because he enhanced and compounded his verbal meanings in his images. The viewer undergoes a mystical experience just with the pictures if the words are taken away. "I think Blake is the mainstay of my background."
Q:	Would you comment on "A Hole Is to Dig" ?
Sendak:	When I met Ruth Krauss, a number of illustrators had turned down her work...