Karen kindly bought me Maurice Sendak's final completed picture book, My Brother's Book, as a birthday gift. I read it in less than fifteen minutes just after opening it, and I think I've read it another five times since. Of course, read is the wrong word here. It's a work to experience and wonder over and it's easily possible to gaze at a single panel for an hour at a time.
Somehow the great illustrator manages to be both himself and William Blake at one and the same time. The final panel invites us to a paradise of love beyond imagination - except that it isn't, because we have, or had, Mr Sendak's imagination to take us there.
Lovely, lovely, lovely. What else is there to say?
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