Mr. Sasquatch tempts fate—a good squishing—when he boards Mr. Blobule’s city bus.
“Hello, Mr. Blobule! May I please ride your bus?” asks Mr. Sasquatch to open this gladdening bit of tomfoolery from Redeker. Traveling through a city where French curves meet plane geometry in a style as idiosyncratic as Art Deco and all Staake’s own, others ask to ride the bus. There are Miss Goat-Whale, Mr. Octo-Rhino, Miss Loch-Ness-Monster-Space-Alien, all in a roundelay of " ‘May I please ride your bus?’ / ‘Of course you may ride my bus…. But please… // Don’t squish the Sasquatch!’ " Who, of course, gets more squished with each new rider, his eyes rotating, his hat boinging off, his arms flailing, until—“KA-BLOOEY!!” This work will not be denied engagement, whether children join the circle dance of words, with their simple, sunny musicality, or pore closely over the fanciful city the bus passes through. Mr. Sasquatch’s final delamination takes place in a fine, eruptive double-gatefold, which inspires a group hug, which triggers Mr. Sasquatch’s claustrophobia switch again.
Pure, disarming horseplay served on a bed of charismatic artwork. (Picture book. 1-5)
