Review by Booklist Review
A moving, musical interlude on grief, Chow's debut novel wraps readers in the moments Amie shares with her ba-ba, who has cancer. He's had cancer before, and that's why Amie is his miracle, since he never thought he'd have children. When his cancer gets worse, Amie finds herself obsessed with the way her music can make him happy. After his passing, with her mother's desire to return to routine pressing at her back, Amie loses her musical voice, friendships falter, and she must learn to be honest with those around her that she is not okay. Amie's love of music is the primary language of this novel, but her love of Harry Potter proliferates on the page as well--including in odd moments when she wonders if an adult is "smiling like a Slytherin," which disrupts the otherwise lyrical flow. Well-paced and serious without being overly heavy, Chow's debut is a great pick for anyone with a love of music or with a cloud of grief lingering over them. Hand to fans of Lynne Kelly, Christine Day, and Paul Acampora.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Bolstered by an undercurrent of hope, Chow's unflinchingly raw debut explores the fraught relationship between a grieving daughter and mother during a father's decline and death from cancer. Violinist Amie Cheung, a sixth grader, is always in harmony with her Ba-ba, who lives by a creed of hope, believing that "miracles happen every day," and "divisi" with her mother, who lives by another rhythm. When Ba-ba's cancer enters its final stages, affecting his personality, Amie feels out of sync with them both, and misses Ba-ba's last moments after she stays home from the hospital. Experiencing guilt and grief, and brimming with suppressed anger as Mom works to "return to the everyday," Amie feels unable to play her violin and distances herself from friends, struggling to create "a new harmony" that will bridge relationship gaps and relieve inner cataclysms. Portraying variations on grief experiences amid a community slowly adjusting after a shared loss, Chow honors the tween protagonist's complexities and priorities as explored via Amie's candid voice. Auditory imagery, Harry Potter references, and nods to the Chinese American family's cultural expression ground the narrative, while chapter epigraphs define music theory metaphors. Concludes with an author's note and musical glossary. Ages 8--12. Agent: Andrea Cascardi, Transatlantic Agency. (Mar.)
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Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 3--7--Over half of Amie's life is spent in the shadow of her father's cancer. She has always been close to Ba-ba; she plays his favorite instrument (the violin), and they love sharing their interests. When he passes away, Amie feels disconnected from everyone and everything she knows, including her beloved violin. The first half of this title drags, lost in media references--"Harry Potter," "Zelda," Holes. They are too essential to the plot without enough contextual explanation. But the back half shines, a perfect exploration of gradual disconnect after a loss. It picks up when discussing grief, capturing the trapped, desperate sadness. Amie wants to be alright but has no clue how to express it. Grief is part of life, but difficult to pin down in writing. Chow adeptly accomplishes that, in addition to presenting the tumult of puberty, a recipe for explosive emotions. Along with encapsulating loss, this work is at its best when discussing music: the emotional response, the dedication to practice, the euphoria when a piece clicks. Amie's love for music is by far the best part of the beginning, which makes her later struggles hurt more. Each chapter begins with a musical term and definition, a neat and informative Easter egg. VERDICT Perfect for middle school music nerds, especially those undergoing personal turmoil.--Cat McCarrey
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