If you loved how Harold draws a moon, a boat, and even a dragon-guarded apple tree to keep moving, you’ll adore Journey. A lonely girl sketches a red door and steps through into sweeping canals, airships, and forests—all conjured by her marker the way Harold’s purple line summons paths and hot-air balloons. It’s a wordless, immersive adventure with the same “draw it, then live it” thrill and the same cozy return home.

Like Harold steering his night by sketching out roads, cities, and finally his own bed beneath the moon, Grover tries to steer your reading—begging you not to turn pages, building silly blockades, and talking directly to you. The Monster at the End of This Book shares that same cheeky feeling that the character is shaping the tale in real time, turning the act of reading into the adventure.

If the spare lines of Harold’s purple crayon—just enough to become a moonlit path, a city of windows, or a boat—made your imagination hum, Not a Box will hit the same sweet spot. A simple box becomes a race car, a mountain, a robot—no elaborate backdrops, just bold line work and your mind filling in the world, exactly like Harold’s minimalist, make-it-as-you-go journey.

Harold’s walk under the moon—drawing a path, finding a picnic, and returning to his room—has that intimate, just-one-kid rhythm. The Snowy Day mirrors it: Peter wanders his neighborhood in fresh snow, making tracks, knocking snow from trees, and finally heading home to bed. It’s the same cozy, close-focus exploration where small discoveries feel big.

As with Harold sailing a purple boat to far-off places and then sketching his way back to his bedroom by the moon, Max’s sail to the land of the Wild Things is wondrous but reassuring. Where the Wild Things Are captures that big-feeling adventure—the rumpus, the crowned king—and the tender return to a warm supper waiting, echoing Harold’s safe landing under the familiar moon.