So it would seem. It's got no reviews. It hasn't even gotten 5 votes yet for an average score on IMDb.
But I have fond, vague memories of watching this on PBS when I was little. As I recall, the show was centered around a childish puppet named Kino who was cared for by his human friend, the gently maternal Lucy. In every episode, people would come and read storybooks to Kino and listening children. These stories were presented in a fashion similar to Reading Rainbow, but there were several on an episode, as opposed to just one.
Storytime, along with Reading Rainbow and Wishbone, had a profound influence on my imagination and love for reading. The stories in this show and their illustrations stirred my mind, sparked in me a sense of wonder. The image of a haggard young Native American woman, shrouded in rags with dark hair unfurled around her shadowed face as she marches to marry the "Invisible Being", has never left me. Neither has the forlorn figure of shunned Baba Yaga, conjured up by color and lines of ink and simple words in a tale whose title I cannot clearly remember
I haven't seen this little show since the earliest years of my childhood, and have no idea what I would make of it if able to see it again. But I know it fascinated and enthralled me back then, and played its part in shaping me. It seems a shame it appears to have been ignored for these long years.
But I have fond, vague memories of watching this on PBS when I was little. As I recall, the show was centered around a childish puppet named Kino who was cared for by his human friend, the gently maternal Lucy. In every episode, people would come and read storybooks to Kino and listening children. These stories were presented in a fashion similar to Reading Rainbow, but there were several on an episode, as opposed to just one.
Storytime, along with Reading Rainbow and Wishbone, had a profound influence on my imagination and love for reading. The stories in this show and their illustrations stirred my mind, sparked in me a sense of wonder. The image of a haggard young Native American woman, shrouded in rags with dark hair unfurled around her shadowed face as she marches to marry the "Invisible Being", has never left me. Neither has the forlorn figure of shunned Baba Yaga, conjured up by color and lines of ink and simple words in a tale whose title I cannot clearly remember
I haven't seen this little show since the earliest years of my childhood, and have no idea what I would make of it if able to see it again. But I know it fascinated and enthralled me back then, and played its part in shaping me. It seems a shame it appears to have been ignored for these long years.
