Toby Bright and the Day the Colors Hid

I read this aloud to my seven-year-old and we both loved it. The scenes in Mr. Fen’s workshop — the little carved horse with its blue streak, the sauces of smell, and Cog’s tinny chirps — are perfect for imagining. My child kept asking where the talking paintbrush would lead Toby next and giggled at the fox’s clever tricks. The message about sharing and kindness is handled gently; color returning to the town as people reconnect made my kid say, 'That’s like when we share crayons!' Simple, warm, and beautifully paced for young listeners. Will definitely add this to our 'repeat' pile.

I wanted to love this more than I did. The prose is charming in places — the bell slipping under shutters, the kite's tail image — and I like Toby as a character, especially the detail of his imperfect wooden horse. But overall the story leans toward predictability: the trio of helpers (talking paintbrush, tinkered sparrow, clever fox) feel archetypal rather than fully realized, and the resolution—sharing restores color—while heartwarming, is tidy to the point of being simplistic. For a middle-section read, some scenes felt rushed; the book hints at darker stakes (why did the colors vanish?) but never develops a convincing antagonist or motive, which undercuts dramatic tension. I also noticed a few convenience plot moments where solutions arrive just in time with little struggle, making the emotional payoff less earned. It's pleasant and suitable for the youngest readers who enjoy comforting tales, but older children may find it a bit safe and on-the-nose with its lessons.

Okay, I did not expect to get so emotionally invested in a paintbrush, but here we are. 😅 Toby is such a believable nine-year-old — sticky fingers, scrappy toys, and all — and Mr. Fen calling him 'Pipsqueak' felt adorably old-school. The image of Cog, the sparrow made of tin and ribbon, whistling 'Let us go' is pure gold. The book wears its morals lightly: sharing literally brings the color (and people) back, but it never lectures. The clever fox adds a nice dash of mischief without stealing the show. The only tiny gripe is that the villainy behind the color loss is a bit vague in the excerpt, but honestly, for bedtime magic and classroom readings this is spot on. Sweet, sly, and a little sparkly — a cozy modern fairy tale.

Toby Bright and the Day the Colors Hid is a well-crafted children's adventure that balances whimsy and didactic moments with surprising finesse. The opening is atmospheric—Toby awake under Mr. Fen's rafters, fingertips sticky from paint, framed by details like the kite's tail and Granny Dabble's jam jars—so the setting is established quickly and memorably. The core conceit (colors literally vanishing) is simple but emotionally resonant for the intended 7–11 age range: it externalizes loneliness, selfishness, and the restorative power of sharing. I appreciated how objects and small inventions (Cog, the tinkered sparrow) are used to explore resilience and creativity. The talking paintbrush is a clever device for both plot propulsion and symbolic meaning — paint as connection. Pacing is generally strong, though the middle section could use a touch more tension before the final restoration of color; a couple of encounters feel brisk rather than fully exploited. Still, the character interactions—Toby with Mr. Fen, his care for the wooden horse with its blue streak, and the fox's sly but earnest contributions—remain the heart of the tale. A thoughtful, charming read that invites discussion about courage and kindness.

This book put a gentle lump in my throat — in the best way. The author does an incredible job making Larkspur feel lived-in: the bell slipping under shutters, the kite's tail slapping the air, and Mr. Fen's workshop smelling of oil and lemon polish. I adored the tiny wooden horse with its one stubborn streak of blue; that little imperfection felt like a philosophy lesson for kids and adults alike. Cog, the tinkered sparrow, is such a sweet invention — its stuttering whistle made me smile every time. The trio (talking paintbrush, Cog, and the clever fox) are a winning mix of quirky friendship and gentle bravery. The scenes where Toby shares paint or comforts a frightened toy are quiet but powerful: you feel the town slowly regain color as people open up. This is warm, hopeful storytelling for 7–11-year-olds that teaches kindness without being preachy. Highly recommended for bedtime reading and classroom discussions.