When Harold gets tired he looks for home. He draws window after window, looking for his own. He draws so many windows, but he can’t find his. He draws a whole city’s downtown. Then he remembers where his window is. It is right over the moon. He draws the moon, his window, his bed, and then draws the covers up around his head.
(If I have used any language in the book, it is coincidental, because I’ve tried to retell the story in my own words.)
Why I love Harold
I love the story because Harold is cute. I love it because he is clever. He finds himself in predicaments and he uses his wits to think fast and create a way to safety. That is not only comforting; it’s inspirational.
It’s an inspirational story. The story tells us: if little Harold, who is completely alone on a walkabout, can get out of so many jams—such as practically drowning, falling off the side of a mountain (and oh, yes, confronting a dragon he happens to have drawn), as well as getting lost in a big city (he also drew)—then, finally, finding (well, drawing) his own bedroom window over the moon and crawling into the safety of his bed—why, so can you.
For children, artists, and writers everywhere, this is a special story about the power of imagination. With a purple crayon Harold creates his world, his day. That world resembles real life, too.
Harold’s world has verisimilitude. It’s the kind of world he might encounter, emotionally, at least, even if he weren’t making it up. There would be things to be afraid of, and things to feel excited about, and feelings of hunger and fatigue. And, he would feel alone. Just like in life.
The mind is everything in Harold’s world because Harold wakes up to a blank slate. Harold is the quintessential artist. Oh, Harold. Herald.
