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“It’s a very good sign if a book feels good, and smells good, and tastes good,” children’s book author and illustrator Maurice Sendak once said. Finally, someone I can talk to: How many times has my girlfriend declared me totally touched in the head for pre-sniffing potential purchases in the aisles of Borders? Sometimes I try to hide my addiction from fellow customers with covert huffing; other times, like when I’m cradling a new John Irving hardcover on a summer Sunday morning, I abandon subtle nostril tricks and inhale as loudly and proudly as possible. And I can still remember (you always remember your first) my inaugural, pre-K snort of Sendak’s Caldecott Medal-winning 1964 classic, Where the Wild Things Are, the story of wolf-suited Max and his starry-night sojourn into his monstered imagination. (Rumor has it that Sendak, born in Brooklyn, N.Y., in 1928 to Polish immigrant parents, opted for his playful “wild things” only because he couldn’t quite draw his first choice: wild horses.) The greatest memories of my childhood are being sold back to me in stacks, and Where the Wild Things Are has become a stage show—a multimedia collaboration involving Sendak, dance-master Septime Webre, and rocker Randall Woolf. Although the Washington Ballet’s staging looks pretty cool, I’m sadly sure it doesn’t smell as beautiful as the book. Performed with Webre’s Juanita y Alicia, Eric Hampton’s Two for Two, and excerpts from Nacho Dauto’s Na Floresta at 7 p.m. Friday, March 10, 2 and 7 p.m. Saturday, March 11, and 2 p.m. Sunday, March 12, at the Warner Theatre, 13th and E Streets NW. $25-$38. (202) 783-4000. (Sean Daly)