The Day the Tide Forgot

Shellbay hooked me from the very first “warm bread and salt” line — the prose smells and sounds like a place you could step into. Mina is terrific: curious without being reckless, and her small, brave choices feel completely true to a ten-year-old. I loved the tiny detail of the shell’s rosy swirl and chipped rim; it made her listening to it feel tactile and lived-in. The scene with her father folding dough (bread for luck — brilliant little superstition) and the silent gulls on the rail give the opening a deliciously strange calm. The lantern that shows hidden currents is such a clever piece of magic — not flashy, but useful and eerie when she follows those faint blue lines beneath the mussel banks. The moment Mina eases the lonely spirit’s knots under the stones had me smiling and welling up a bit; the knots are a lovely metaphor and the writer handles that tenderness without being cloying. Small moments like Mrs. Rook whispering and the drooping cuttlefish flag add texture to the world-building. Everything — plot, voice, characters, atmosphere — sits in the sweet spot for 7–11 readers: adventurous, gently spooky, and quietly moving. I’ll be passing this one on to my niece. 🌊

Cute idea, but the execution left me wanting. The narrative leans heavily on familiar tropes: lonely spirit, young child who fixes it, magical lantern — nothing wrong with those elements, but the story doesn’t complicate them enough. The climax (untangling the spirit’s knots) is emotionally obvious and unfolds quickly; I would have liked more tension or a hurdle that wasn’t solved mostly by a symbolic gesture. Also, a few logistical details don’t quite add up — how do the harborfolk react in the long term? Are there consequences to the tide’s forgetting that go beyond a poetic ending? For kids who crave brisk adventures, this will be fine. For readers looking for depth or surprises, it might feel cliché.

I wanted to love this more than I did. The premise — a tide that forgets its song — is evocative, and the opening paragraphs are lovely, but the story moves predictably from mystery to discovery to resolution. Mina is charming, yet the supporting characters (the lighthouse keeper, Mrs. Rook) feel like archetypes rather than fully formed people; their dialogue and roles are functional rather than surprising. The lantern that shows currents borders on being a convenient plot device: it reveals everything the reader needs to know at the right moments, which makes certain discoveries feel engineered. That said, younger readers will likely be swept up by the mood and the seaside imagery, so it's not a lost cause—just a bit safe and tidy for my taste.

A gentle, melancholic adventure that trusts its young readers. The prose opens with strong, sensory detail (the bread-and-salt image is perfect) and moves at a pace that allows wonder to bloom rather than forcing spectacle. The lighthouse keeper and Mrs. Rook are sketched with a few telling lines that suggest whole lives beyond the page; Mina’s kindness toward the lonely spirit never feels saccharine because the text gives us the practical, tactile work of knot-untying and the symbolic work of listening. I particularly liked the scene where the lantern reveals hidden currents — it’s a smart way to visualize empathy. For teachers and parents: this story prompts excellent discussion about courage, listening to elders, and the power of small actions.

This was so cool! Mina is awesome — she sneaks out with her lantern and finds currents like a secret map. I liked the part where the gulls just bob and don’t make a sound, and when Mrs. Rook whispers because everything’s so quiet — that made it spooky. The mussel banks were gross but cool, and the lonely spirit had a sad story which Mina fixed. The ending with the tide singing again made me happy 😊. Would read it again and maybe act it out with my friends.

Beautifully atmospheric children's fantasy. The author uses sensory detail — smell of warm bread, the slick harbor, the hush of the sea — to create immediate immersion. I admired the pacing of the discovery: Mina hears the blankness in the shell, investigates the stalled harbor, consults the lighthouse keeper, then ventures into the flats. Scenes under the mussel banks are well-drawn and just the right amount of eerie for young readers. The way the tide “remembers its song” at the end is lyrical without being opaque. A thoughtful, well-crafted read that balances mythic elements with small, believable family life.

Sweet and courageous — I bawled a little. The moment when Mina untangles the spirit’s knots beneath the mussel banks is quiet and powerful; it reminded me of how small kindnesses can heal loneliness. The lighthouse keeper is a gentle, grounding adult presence (not overbearing, just quietly helpful), and the relationship with her father, who bakes “for luck,” feels honest and comforting. My niece kept asking about the lantern and how it worked — that sense of wonder is the book’s biggest gift. Highly recommend for kids who like creatures-of-the-sea stories and stories about friendship.

Charming little adventure with just the right mix of spooky and sweet. The setting is pitch-perfect: mornings that smell of “warm bread and salt,” a harbormaster’s hut with a cuttlefish flag drooping — nice visual economy. Mina’s lantern that shows hidden currents is a rare piece of whimsy that avoids being silly; it actually deepens the mystery. I’ll admit I smiled at the line about her father’s careful smile and the superstitious baking habit (bread for luck!). If I were nitpicking, maybe the resolution is a tad tidy — but for the intended age group, it lands exactly where it should: hopeful, brave, and memorable. Nicely done.

I read this to my 8-year-old and we both loved it. Mina is so curious — the bit where she listens to the shell and says, “Quiet. Like the sea’s holding its breath” was beautifully written. My daughter wanted to know if the lighthouse keeper was nice (he is!) and begged to read the scene under the mussel banks again. The story felt safe and exciting at once, with a small chill when they find the lonely spirit but lots of warmth when the tide remembers. Great for bedtime or classroom reading.

A quietly accomplished children’s tale. The central conceit — a sea that forgets how to sing — is handled with restraint and a strong sense of place. Specific moments stand out: Mina pressing her ear to the rosy-swirl shell, her father folding dough (lovely domestic detail), and the stillness of the harbor with ropes hanging like straight lines. Structurally the story balances action (the flats, mussel banks) with quieter emotional beats (the lonely spirit, the promises Mina returns with). I particularly appreciated the lantern as a device that externalizes perception; it allows the narrative to show as well as tell. Language is accessible without talking down to children, and the atmosphere is the book’s real strength.