Little Blue Truck keeps on truckin’-but not without some backfires.įamilies in a variety of configurations play, dance, and celebrate together.

The illustrations, done by Joseph in the style of original series collaborator Jill McElmurry, are pleasant enough, but his compositions often feel stiff and forced. Schertle’s verse, usually reliable, stumbles more than once stanzas such as “But Valentine’s Day / didn’t seem much fun / when he didn’t get cards / from anyone” will cause hitches during read-alouds. In this, Blue’s seventh outing, it’s not just the sturdy protagonist that seems to be wilting. Blue is therefore surprised (but readers may not be) when he pulls into his garage to be greeted by all his friends with a shiny blue valentine just for him. But as Blue heads home, his deliveries complete, his headlight eyes are sad and his front bumper droops ever so slightly. With each delivery there is an exchange of Beeps from Blue and the appropriate animal sounds from his friends, Blue’s Beeps always set in blue and the animal’s vocalization in a color that matches the card it receives.

His bed overflowing with cards, Blue sets out to deliver a yellow card with purple polka dots and a shiny purple heart to Hen, one with a shiny fuchsia heart to Pig, a big, shiny, red heart-shaped card to Horse, and so on. Little Blue Truck feels, well, blue when he delivers valentine after valentine but receives nary a one.

Children who appreciate Corduroy-and know their way around a laundromat-will be acritically pleased, as they should be. So Corduroy acquires a pocket-where Lisa puts a card with his name. 'Why did you wander away?' she asks and, speaking freely, he tells her.

He barely escapes a toasting in the dryer, enjoys a soap-flake mountainslide, and winds up 'caged' in an empty laundry basket-where he's spotted when his worried girl Lisa returns the next morning. In search of the makings of a pocket, Corduroy crawls into a bag of damp laundry, and, taken for lost, is left behind overnight. But what happens in the laundromat thereafter, just-horrors!-might. To that extent, and in that respect, this new book about Corduroy is less simple, assured, and satisfying than its predecessor. The overall-clad stuffed bear who in Corduroy (1968) was unmistakably in need of a shoulder-strap button is put in the position here of overhearing about pockets-the lack of which he hasn't noticed in the absence of a need.

A pocket for corduroy by don freeman