Poppy Gearhart and the Singing Spring

I wanted to love this more than I did. The setting and main character have charm — Gran Maud’s shop and Brassfinch are delightful — but the plot felt a bit predictable. The arc where the Guild plans to cage the Singing Spring followed familiar beats (mysterious wrong note → investigation → villainous plan → moral victory) without surprising me. Some pacing issues: the middle slows when the story lingers on atmospheric detail but then rushes through important logistics (how exactly the Guild could capture and transport a spring isn’t clearly addressed). Also, a couple of plot conveniences — like finding the Echo-Lens at just the right moment — felt hand-wavy. That said, Poppy’s empathy and the theme of listening are lovely, and younger readers will likely be swept up by the world. For me, it was pleasant but slightly underpowered.

I adored this — Poppy is the kind of character you want in your pocket. The opening scene in Gran Maud’s shop (the peppermint tins and the kettle steam!) felt cozy but immediately hinted at something off with the pipes. I loved Brassfinch — that moment when Poppy winds the bird and it pecks the valve made me grin. The descent into Old Boilerworks is tense but warm, driven by curiosity and friendship rather than bravado. The Guild’s plan to cage the Singing Spring felt chilling and believable within the city’s steam politics, and the Echo-Lens is a great little invention that fits the theme: listening as resistance. The writing balances kid-friendly adventure with a real emotional center — Poppy’s bravery through listening is a sweet, clever coming-of-age. Highly recommend for young readers who like tinkering heroines, weird pipes, and a hopeful ending.

There’s a pleasing restraint to this tale: it doesn’t rush to spectacle but unfolds with the steady tick of gears. Gran Maud’s shop is wonderfully specific — screwdrivers tucked like chopsticks, tea-and-oil smell — which grounds the more fantastical elements. The scene where the Brassfinch wakes and pecks the valve is small but so telling of Poppy’s mechanical intimacy. I appreciated how the narrative treats listening as a craft; the Echo-Lens and Poppy’s decision to descend into the Old Boilerworks pay off emotionally. If anything, some of the villains (the Guild) are sketched a little thin, but for the intended age, the balance of mystery, friendship, and invention is spot-on.

Short and sweet: the book nails its tone. Fogfen is a fully realized setting in a few strokes — Great Caldera hum, steam-lift clanging, kites and wires — and Poppy is a memorable protagonist because she listens first. The Echo-Lens is a brilliant little concept, and the way the story turns ‘listening’ into a form of invention is satisfying. Pacing is brisk but not rushed; perfect for the 7–11 crowd. One of my favorite bits is the Brassfinch interaction by the kettle — charming detail work.

Cute, clever, and cozy — exactly what I wanted. That opening image of steam fogging Gran Maud’s window and Poppy wiping a circle clear hooked me instantly. Little details like the peppermint tins and the Brassfinch pecking the kettle made me smile out loud. I loved the bit where the pipes were a beat off and Poppy actually listens; felt like a real mystery for kids to solve. Airships, soot patterns on hands, and the Singing Spring reveal were delightful. Briefly scary in the Old Boilerworks but very kid-friendly. 10/10 would recommend to my nephew. 😊

As a fan of steampunk that doesn’t rely only on brass for effect, I was impressed. Fogfen is rendered with small, believable details: the Great Caldera’s hum, walkways above tea-colored canals, banners like slow clouds. The story’s strongest move is making listening into an act of invention — Poppy’s use of the Echo-Lens and her sensitivity to the pipes’ rhythms turns empathy into agency. The sootling and the kitesmith add texture without crowding the plot. The Old Boilerworks descent is paced well; you feel claustrophobia and curiosity at once. My one wish is for slightly more explanation about the Guild’s internal politics (a sequel, please!). But overall, an inventive, heartful adventure for 7–11 readers with a protagonist whose courage is earned and sweetly personal.

I was genuinely impressed by how this story weaves a child-friendly adventure with a subtle critique of control and commodification. The Guild’s intention to ‘cage’ the Singing Spring reads like a neat allegory for industries that harvest wonder without listening to it. Poppy’s tools — Brassfinch, the sootling, and especially the Echo-Lens from the kitesmith — are more than gadgets; they embody the value of attentiveness. Scenes such as the pipes singing off-beat and Poppy mapping rhythms into an actual route felt inventive and tactile. The prose is lyrical without being dense, perfect for 7–11 readers: you get sensory images (the canals, the Great Caldera hum) and a clear emotional throughline. The friendships are believable, especially her rapport with Gran Maud, who is warm and pragmatic. This would make a lovely classroom read-aloud and a strong launchpad for discussion about curiosity, stewardship, and the ethics of invention.

Okay, I’ll admit I went in skeptical — another brass-and-gear kid’s story, right? But Poppy won me over. The book’s not trying to be grimdark; it’s earnest and clever. There’s a moment in Old Boilerworks where she actually listens to the pipes and adjusts her approach instead of charging in like an action hero — that’s such a refreshing take. The Guild is satisfying as a foe (menacing but not cartoonishly evil), and the resolution around the Singing Spring gives you a nice ethical gut-punch without being heavy-handed. Also, Brassfinch is pure gold. If you like tinkering protagonists and cityfolk who aren’t all villains, this is your jam. Nicely done.

Reading this felt like walking fogged streets at dawn — the prose breathes steam and song. The image of banners of laundry like slow clouds and rivets glinting in sunlight stayed with me; it’s a quietly beautiful world. Poppy’s bravery isn’t loud; it’s the sort that listens, tinkers, and trusts small companions (Brassfinch, the sootling) — a lovely inversion of the usual ‘sword-and-scores’ trope. The descent into the Old Boilerworks had real atmosphere: claustrophobic pipes, the offset rhythm of whistles, the looming threat of the Guild’s cages. The Singing Spring itself is handled with care, not sensationalized — the payoff is emotional rather than just plot-fulfilling. This is a tender, inventive coming-of-age for young readers and anyone who remembers the thrill of fixing something and learning why it sings.