'I don't know how to do children's books'

Based on the 1938 opera by Czech composer Hans Krasa, the celebrated author and illustrator paints a portrait of evil that is magnified by the opera's unique production history. Originally staged by inmates of Terezin, the showplace Nazi concentration camp, Brundibar tells the story of a brother and sister whose search for food for their sick mother is hindered by the title character, a sinister organ grinder.

Most of the children who performed in the Terezin productions were sent to their deaths by the Germans, as was the composer, who died in Auschwitz. Collaborating with playwright Tony Kushner, Sendak recreated the story in a format that acknowledges the fate of the original casts. Siblings Pepicek and Aninku and the townspeople who rally round them all wear yellow Stars of David. Brundibar himself somewhat resembles Hitler. Sendak, 75, spoke about the work from his home in Ridgefield, Connecticut.

How did the story of Brundibar cross your path?

I knew about the camp [Terezin], but the only thing I knew was that it was an elitist concentration camp and many of the Czech intellectuals were put there, and artists . . . A musician sent me a recording of Brundibar that had been made at Terezin and done with children, about five years ago. I just had to have it. I knew that . . . I could make a picture book out of it. . . . I called up Tony Kushner, a good friend, and he's just as obsessed with the Holocaust as I am, and we decided to work on it.

He wanted to get it all together to be translated by him. He doesn't speak Czech, but has a friend who does titles for Czech movies and who did a flat translation. He built on that poetically and tried to get the Czech sound back into it.

The Chicago Opera staged it recently, with your sets and costumes.

It was on a double bill with [Bohuslav Martinu's] "Comedy on the Bridge" last June. It was a big success. . . . I was still frustrated that other opera houses didn't pick it up. I want everyone to hear Krasa's score. [The libretto is by Adolph Hoffmeister]. This is a major work. . . . Hans Krasa in his early 30s was a brilliant composer and was stopped only by the gas chambers.

Have you found any of the children from the original cast who survived?

Most of the children were murdered. We ran into a woman named Ela Weissberger. . . . She had been in the camp and had played the cat. When it was performed in Chicago, she came . . . During rehearsal we were sitting next to each other. The young girl who played the cat comes prancing out. We just plotzed. . . . Ela made the whole thing real.

At the Y [the 92nd Street Y in New York, where Kusher and Sendak presented a concert version of Brundibar in early November], we had two children sing. A gentleman raised his hand and corrected me on a few points and said he had been in the chorus. And another woman -- who had not performed but had been at the camp -- so there were three of them.

This is a grim story for a children's book.

Only if you insist on calling it a children's book. I don't know how to do children's books. I don't believe in children's books. I did it because this was the form that pulled me or drove me, not because I had a passion for children. . . . I have very little respect for books that are written -- quote -- for children.

Can you talk about the division of labor with Tony Kushner. You did most of the drawing and he did most of the writing?

Pretty much. . . . There were suggestions of words. . . . Since this is the first book he did -- quote -- for children, the form is new. You have to leave room for pictures. If there were too many sentences on a page, it would give me no room. I would assure him that I could work it graphically better.

Talk about your relationship with comic books.

I adored comic books. Mickey Mouse was my favorite. Mickey Mouse truly was God. Anything to do with the early Disney. Gasoline Alley with Skeezix. Terry and the Pirates.

Did you make your own comic books?

I had a comic strip in high school, Pinky Caard.

Pinky Caard?

If you were bad three times, you got a pink card.

Like a demerit slip?

Yes. I collected lots of pink cards.

What was the main character like?

He was totally unlike me. He looked a little like Skeezix. He wore zoot suits. He was really hot with the girls. . . . After school I had a sneak job, at All American Comics. They gave me the weekly Mutt and Jeffs and I had to arrange them on a color page [for the Sunday paper]. You had to be clever and make it seem like one page connected. You had to draw like Bud Fisher. . . . My Waterloo was, they gave me Captain Midnight. I just couldn't draw . . . girlfriends all with giant breasts and little skimpy things on.

Do you read comic books now?

Art Spiegelman. . . . I love the form. My favorite is [early 20th-century illustrator] Winsor McKay. Little Nemo in Slumberland. He is never considered that important because we are a nation of snobs.

Clear up the mystery of why your bakers look like Oliver Hardy.

I adored him. I also adored Stan [Laurel.] I needed a fat guy [for "In the Night Kitchen"]. I chose Ollie and he was perfect. . . . When I went to the World's Fair in 1939 and the bakery pavilion, there was at the baked goods pavilion tiny fat midgets who all wore baker's suits. They waved to us and the whole place smelled of fresh bread and cake. I just stood there obsessed with these little guys and the bread.

Is the Milk Man in Brundibar a portrait of Van Gogh?

He's my brother. He's Van Gogh. He's Chagall. . . . I never dared to put any Van Gogh-ism into my books before. He and Goya are my favorite painters. He was so present.

Robin Dougherty, a writer and critic, lives in Washington, D.C. She can be reached at inkrd@aol.com.