Εξαιρετική εικονογράφηση και μια ιστορία με μπόλικη φαντασία!
Μικρό,απλό,ωραίο.

Pues eso, un cuento para niños con bonitas ilustraciones.

One of the best children's books of all time. You can be a 'wild thing' and have adventures but home is still the best place to be!

5 WILD ★'s

I love Where the Wild Things Are :) I can still remember the first time being introduced to this book back in grade school. It instantly became an all-time favorite of mine and still is to this very day! I love Max's character lol he's a bit of a BRAT! The illustrations are utterly fantastic and so so beautiful with a creepiness to them. I love being able to share my favorite books with my little niece's :) It is truly a childhood classic for a reason.


*Plus the movie is brilliant!!! It was such an excellent movie and EVERYONE should really watch it!*

All This little Bratty jerk needed was a flying chappal

I am NOT joking!! He was a total brat..and all his mother did was send him without supper!!
If I behaved that way with my mom..you won't be reading this review today

Se lee en un santiamén... Me gustaron las ilustraciones pero hasta ahí.

My copy of this book is over fifty years old. It was read to me when I was tiny and I read it to my children when they were small.

When we lived in the States I discovered the play figures in a bargain bin in a toy store and bought them for my kids too. This guy was always my favourite!



He looks as if he's up to no good.

There are several key elements to the book's power.

1. The artwork is special.

2. It shows, graphically the power of imagination.

That very night in Max's room a forest grew
and grew until his ceiling hung with vines
and the walls became the world all around

3. It undermines the fear of monsters without taking away the wonder.

4. Even when you're bad, your mother loves you.

I can't see this book going out of print. It's timeless.


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My son's favorite book! Now it looks like it’s Mr. H’s favorite book, too. Excuse me, I’m being summoned for the tenth rereading...in a row.

I have no doubt that this book damaged me, psychologically, as a small child. It is one of the earliest books I vividly remember reading aloud to myself, and I remember the first time my mother read it to me before she put me to bed. Here's the gist of the plot: A little boy named Max dresses up in a wolf costume, plays with a hammer, chases his dog with a fork, then threatens to cannibalize his mother. His mother, a master of irony, then puts him to bed with no dinner. Already, this story should start creeping you out. Then a forest starts to grow in Max's bedroom. And no, no chemicals have been ingested anywhere in the story. Though the bit about chasing the dog with the fork does imply a delusional state. Regardless, a fucking forest grows in the kids bedroom. So naturally he gets in a boat and sails off to the other side of the world, to where all these "wild things" are. And promptly subjugates everyone he sees. I'm a damn toddler, and my mom is reading me a book about a sociopath. So Max has a ball with this gang he's conquered and converted, and they howl at the moon and hop through trees. Then he gets hungry and goes home, where his mother, no doubt terrified of his new army of foreign creatures, has left his food for him, still warm. I thought, "This woman aims to do me harm." Yes, please, mother. Read me a story about my bedroom becoming a forest inhabited by monsters, then put me to bed. Think I slept that night? No, I hid out under my bed with a plastic baseball bat, a water gun and flashlight, hoping to God that if this was the night it all went wrong, I had the courage to look those monsters in the eye and pretend I wasn't wetting myself. I made a nest with a giant teddy bear and two pillows and didn't come out until the next morning, when I heard my mom coming down the hall. All day long I pretended nothing was different. But I asked her to read me Where The Wild Things Are again that night. And the next night. For months. I would ask her questions like "Do you think I will have my monsters get you if you don't make me supper?" And she'd smile, and say "Go to bed, Nathan." Spooky shit, I'm telling you. I learned to read through fear and intimidation. A subversive masterpiece.

NC

A little boy in a wolf suit is a little too rambunctious and is sent to bed without supper. Soon his room grows into a forest and a boat on the ocean carries little Max to where the wild things are. When he arrives Max is the sariest monster of them all. Max is crowned king and announces ". . . let the wild rumpus start!" Soon he and the wild things are dancing and swinging from trees. When the wild things sleep, Max is ". . . lonely and wanted to be were someone loved him best." So he hops back into his boat and sails home.

This imaginative book will keep little ones entertained with its colorful pictures. The story of Max is creative and original. It takes the monsters of nightmares and turns them into the child's loyal subjects. Where the Wild Things Are presents the monsters of imagination and turns them into playmates. But in the end, Max wants to be where someone loves him most. I highly recommend this book.

Cute. I loved the illustrations.

The classic. I would take this on a desert island. So much to explore and interpret in the words and the pictures. I'm afraid my girls don't like the book as much as I do. But sooner or later, they'll come around.

I see quite a few people complaining about Max being a little shit and not learning a lesson in "Where the Wild Things Are." Well, guess what, a lot of kids are little shits. And I believe Max did learn a few things on his journey. Sometimes it's not so good to be the king. Even with all his power over the wild things, he still missed home. And even when he's bad, he can count on his Mama. That's a lesson in appreciating what you got. It's too bad people have to be so one-dimensional about children's books -- but given the amount of 4 & 5-star reviews this book gets on Goodreads alone, I'm certain the naysayers are way off the mark... Anyway, just had to say that.