Kellan and the Song Clock

Right from the first tick, I was completely charmed. Kellan and the Song Clock feels like a little lullaby of a book — warm, clever, and quietly big-hearted. I adored the sensory details: Lantern Lane’s lemon-and-oil tang, the Song Clock’s scalloped shell face, and that small wooden music box with its carved bird. The moment Kellan winds the key and the ribbon of song unfurls across his flat gave me a little shiver — you can feel how important small sounds are to him. The cast is delightful without being cloying. Kellan’s carefulness (fixing tiny cogs, listening close) is believable and tender, and Zara’s entrance with paper boats and salty air is a perfect contrast — lively and grounded. The idea of a collector keeping sounds in jars is such a vivid, slightly odd image; it’s the kind of gentle creepiness that makes a child’s adventure interesting without being scary. I also loved how the book treats community: the town literally runs on a tune, and the quest to restore the middle note becomes a lesson in paying attention to others. The prose is bright and precise, like clockwork — playful when it needs to be, and quietly moving in the more reflective spots. A lovely read for kids who like a bit of magic wrapped in everyday details. 🙂

I wanted to like this more than I did. The premise — a missing middle note and a collector who jars sounds — is imaginative, but the execution leans too heavily on familiar tropes: the earnest young tinkerer, the plucky friend, the eccentric but ultimately soft villain. The pacing feels uneven; the opening is beautifully detailed (I loved the sensory writing about Lantern Lane), but once the quest starts the chapters rush from clue to clue without much suspense. The confrontation with the collector resolves very neatly — almost too neatly — and I kept waiting for consequences or a twist that never came. For older or more discerning children, the ending may feel predictable and the themes a bit on-the-nose. Still, younger readers who enjoy gentle adventures and reassuring conclusions will probably enjoy Kellan’s world.

Quirky and charming — in a totally dorky good way. The idea of someone collecting sounds in jars? Brilliant. The odd helpers (a retired bell-ringer who hums like a foghorn, a shop cat with a taste for tiny screws) gave me proper chuckles. The showdown with the collector is playful rather than threatening, which is exactly what this age group needs: stakes without nightmares. I also loved the small touches, like the grandmother’s line, 'Keep listening, little mender.' Sweet, whimsical, and a touch silly — in the best possible way.

The prose in Kellan and the Song Clock is almost musical itself — I found sentences rolling like a well-tuned metronome. The author does an excellent job creating atmosphere: Lantern Lane’s smells, the scalloped shell face of the Song Clock, the tiny carved bird ribboning a silver song across a flat. The antagonist concept (a collector who jars up sounds) is imaginative and gives the book a slightly uncanny edge without becoming frightening. I particularly admired the scene where Kellan straightens a loose cog while the town waits; that quiet, mechanical focus mirrors the book’s theme of mending and listening. It’s a lyrical little adventure that respects children’s capacity for wonder.

This was such a delightful read! My 8-year-old and I read it aloud and both got hooked — the music box scene (the carved bird squeaking awake) is pure charm. Zara is a fun sidekick (paper boats and painted pebbles — what a kid!) and the collector with jars of sounds is spooky in the best way. The story balances gentle tension with reassuring friendship; the resolution where the town’s voices can finally finish their songs had us both cheering. Bonus: the sensory details are perfect for reading out loud. Recommended for bedtime adventures 🙂

A sweet, well-crafted children’s tale. The market scenes where the Song Clock sets the town’s rhythm are charmingly specific — the bakers pulling loaves right on cue, market boys whistling — and make the loss of the middle note genuinely felt. I liked the small mechanics details (screws like pebbles, springs that 'hold a whisper') which give Kellan credibility as a tiny clockmaker. The message about listening and repairing community ties is quietly effective. Short, neat, and emotionally honest.

As a parent and former middle-school music teacher, I appreciated how the book treats sound as something almost tangible. The plot is cleverly focused: Kellan notices the town’s pace has faltered because “the middle note has gone missing,” which is a neat, child-friendly concept that drives the adventure forward. The collector who keeps sounds in jars is an inspired antagonist — the scene where Kellan and his friends confront the collector and listen as a trapped chime trembles inside a jar is both eerie and empathetic. Pacing is mostly solid; each clue leads naturally to the next, and the odd helpers (I loved the eccentric shop cat and the retired town bell-ringer) add color without clutter. Language is vivid but accessible: the sensory writing — salt, lemon peel, warm dough — grounds the magic. Great for ages 7–11, especially for kids who love slightly mischievous quests and mechanical tinkering.

I loved this little adventure. Kellan as a character is immediately lovable — the detail of him winding the tiny music box his grandmother left him had me smiling the whole way through. The opening scene with Lantern Lane smelling of oil and lemon peel made it feel like I could step right into the street and hear the Song Clock’s chime. I especially adored the moment when the clock lifts its bronze chest to sing; it’s the kind of image that will stay with kids who read it. The friendship between Kellan and Zara is warm and realistic, and the stakes (finding the missing middle note!) are just big enough to feel exciting without being scary. A gentle, imaginative tale that celebrates curiosity and mending what’s broken. Perfect for bedtime or classroom reading.