Un poco tarde, pero queremos dejar constancia de este tributo de Google al genio creativo de Sendak y, además, el post del blog que reproducimos a continuación, para un equilibrio de opiniones:
Maurice Sendak's Google doodle strikes a false note
What would Maurice Sendak have made of Google's animated cartoon celebrating his 85th birthday?
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'Mischief of one kind and another' ... the writer and illustrator Maurice Sendak in 2002. Photograph: James Keyser / Time and Life Pictures / Getty
A stiff-legged figure in a wolf suit cuts a caper, pawing at the air, eyeing the page in front of him with mischief of one kind and another in mind. It's Max, of course, there on the front of Google.co.uk to celebrate what would have been the 85th birthday of his creator, Maurice Sendak.
Click on the speech bubble flashing above his shoulder and Max leaps up to reveal animated highlights of Sendak's career. First up is a bedroom hung with vines, a miniature wild rumpus and a private boat for Max from Sendak's 1963 classic, Where the Wild Things Are. A turn of the wheel and Mickey flies past apartment-block teapots and skyscraper packets of flour, pursued by the bakers who bake till the dawn from 1970's In the Night Kitchen. Finally 2011's Bumble-Ardy brings balloons, lollies and banners for everyone to join in a jolly 85th birthday tea. But what would Sendak have made of a corporate behemoth cheerfully appropriating his best-loved characters?
The incantatory magic of Sendak's picture books is filled with equal measures of mayhem and merriment, with danger as well as delight. Just think of the glee with which Max wields the fork as he chases the poor dog down the stairs, or Mickey's despairing hand disappearing into the batter as the bakers stir, scrape and bake him into a delicious Mickey cake.
For Sendak, childhood was "a very passionate, upsetting, silly, comic business". Max "was a little beast", as we all are. He was an author who refused to "lie to children", to "cater to the bullshit of innocence". Adults concerned that his work was too scary should "go to hell", worried children should "go home … Or wet your pants."
His books may end safely, with a hot supper waiting, but a family destroyed by the Holocaust left him struggling with fear throughout his childhood, flicking through photo albums and thinking he would never know his relatives.
Speaking to the Guardian at the age of 83, Sendak raged at Rupert Murdoch ("he represents how bad things have become"), the American right ("comical if they weren't not funny"), at ebooks ("I hate them") and said it was strange to find he had turned into a "typical old man".
"I can't believe it," he said. "I was young just minutes ago."
And surely this is the secret of Sendak's genius, this combination of rage and wonder and childish delight that you find in the family of alligators "Riding reindeer / Shockingly spoiled / Throwing tantrums / Usually upside down" in Alligators All Around (1962).
We may lament the fact that My Brother's Book, published earlier this year, is the last we'll hear from Sendak, we may think wistfully of what might have been, but with no room for the chaos, for the darkness in his work there's something a little off key about Google's cartoon tribute.
Click on the speech bubble flashing above his shoulder and Max leaps up to reveal animated highlights of Sendak's career. First up is a bedroom hung with vines, a miniature wild rumpus and a private boat for Max from Sendak's 1963 classic, Where the Wild Things Are. A turn of the wheel and Mickey flies past apartment-block teapots and skyscraper packets of flour, pursued by the bakers who bake till the dawn from 1970's In the Night Kitchen. Finally 2011's Bumble-Ardy brings balloons, lollies and banners for everyone to join in a jolly 85th birthday tea. But what would Sendak have made of a corporate behemoth cheerfully appropriating his best-loved characters?
The incantatory magic of Sendak's picture books is filled with equal measures of mayhem and merriment, with danger as well as delight. Just think of the glee with which Max wields the fork as he chases the poor dog down the stairs, or Mickey's despairing hand disappearing into the batter as the bakers stir, scrape and bake him into a delicious Mickey cake.
For Sendak, childhood was "a very passionate, upsetting, silly, comic business". Max "was a little beast", as we all are. He was an author who refused to "lie to children", to "cater to the bullshit of innocence". Adults concerned that his work was too scary should "go to hell", worried children should "go home … Or wet your pants."
His books may end safely, with a hot supper waiting, but a family destroyed by the Holocaust left him struggling with fear throughout his childhood, flicking through photo albums and thinking he would never know his relatives.
Speaking to the Guardian at the age of 83, Sendak raged at Rupert Murdoch ("he represents how bad things have become"), the American right ("comical if they weren't not funny"), at ebooks ("I hate them") and said it was strange to find he had turned into a "typical old man".
"I can't believe it," he said. "I was young just minutes ago."
And surely this is the secret of Sendak's genius, this combination of rage and wonder and childish delight that you find in the family of alligators "Riding reindeer / Shockingly spoiled / Throwing tantrums / Usually upside down" in Alligators All Around (1962).
We may lament the fact that My Brother's Book, published earlier this year, is the last we'll hear from Sendak, we may think wistfully of what might have been, but with no room for the chaos, for the darkness in his work there's something a little off key about Google's cartoon tribute.
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