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The Day The Crayons Quit s/c

The Day The Crayons Quit s/c The Day The Crayons Quit s/c The Day The Crayons Quit s/c The Day The Crayons Quit s/c

The Day The Crayons Quit s/c back

Drew Daywalt & Oliver Jeffers


Page 45 Review by Stephen

Sequel to the same creative team's grin-inducing THE DAY THE CRAYONS QUIT in which a spectrum of hard-worked wax crayons wrote a series of letters alerting young artist Duncan to their put-upon plight.

I found it very moving.

Here, they have switched to postcards, which we send from afar, because some of our wax wonders have gone walkies.

Well, they do that, don't they?

Some fall down the back of the sofa or roll under the heavy settee. Others get forced by tiny fingers down the small holes in the sink causing a Mysterious Blockage (THAT WASN'T ME, MUM!), while more get dropped on the garden path, misplaced on holiday or carried away by the dog which perhaps mistakes yellow for a lump of tasty cheddar cheese.

These, then, are essentially a series of S.O.S. messages addressed to:

"Duncan's Bedroom,
"This House"

Not even the Italian mail could fail to deliver those successfully.

The Crayons have gone a little bit upmarket since we last saw them. They're no longer merely Blue or Purple but Maroon (perfect for colouring scabs) Neon Red, Burnt Sienna, Glow-In-The-Dark (it really does glow in the dark for maximum bedtime squeals!!!) and Pea Green.

Although Green isn't sure that anyone likes peas, so he's changed his name to Esteban.

Yellow and Orange have stopped squabbling since THE DAY THE CRAYONS QUIT. They've come together, united, made up. They have bonded! Quite literally, as it happens, for they've been melted together by the very source of their former feud, the sun.

Two do display a genuine wanderlust, though Neon Red's geography seems a bit off, but if the first book cannot help but ignite renewed creativity, hopefully this sequel will instil an increased sense of tidiness.

The punchline comes in the form of how Duncan will now safely store his collection of chopped, chomped, regurgitated and otherwise misshapen crayons, in a sort of access-friendly, all-inclusive cardboard community centre which includes a "wee door" (not necessarily for weeing in, I hope) and a "look-out point" which couldn't be much more misaligned.

Oh, Duncan!