The Day the Tide Forgot

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.

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.

This story felt like a warm blanket on a windy morning. Mina is a wonderful little heroine — brave but still very much a child, clutching a honey roll and listening to the striped shell by the window. I loved the scene where she peers over the harbor and notices the silent gulls and the drooping cuttlefish flag; the writer nailed that eerie, held-breath feeling. The lantern that reveals hidden currents is such a clever, magical detail, and the beneath-the-mussel-banks sequence (with the soft glow and the strange shapes moving in the dark) is both spooky and comforting. The lonely spirit’s knots were touching — I teared up when Mina untangled the last one and the tide hummed again. Perfect for ages 7–11: adventurous, gentle, and full of heart.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.