Signals in the Static

Signals in the Static hooked me from the first hiss of that old cassette. Maya’s way of listening to the city—mapping moods by bakery lights and bus doors—felt completely lived-in and original. The scene where she pulls out the Lola Ortega tape and the voice says “They came with briefcases and smiles” gave me chills; it’s that quiet, domestic language that makes the stakes feel personal. I loved June’s complicated presence too—her soft laugh with a hard edge is one of those small character details that stays with you. The book balances a whistleblower plot with an intimate coming-of-age: Maya isn’t just exposing corruption, she’s learning what it means to use a voice that carries consequences. The atmosphere of Pulse FM—peppermint gum, amber glow of a tube amp, a chest of dated equipment—was so tactile I could smell it. Even the legal threats and stolen evidence scenes are handled with restraint; the danger feels real without losing the tenderness of the community at the center. A vivid, empathetic YA about memory, truth, and the messy ethics of change. Highly recommended for readers who love character-driven, socially aware stories.

I wanted to love this—there’s a great premise and some lovely sensory writing (the peppermint gum detail is perfect)—but ultimately it felt a bit too predictable and occasionally heavy-handed. The sequence where Maya finds the Lola Ortega tape is strong, but once the legal threats and stolen evidence kick in the plot takes on a familiar whistleblower arc with a few convenience beats (how the tape survives, why the developer’s team acts in a very cartoonishly evil way) that strained my suspension of disbelief. Maya’s moral dilemma is interesting, but the execution sometimes tips into YA melodrama rather than nuanced exploration. I also felt the pacing lagged in the middle; scenes that should have ratcheted tension instead recycled atmosphere. If you like tidy endings and clear-cut villains, this will probably satisfy you. If you want a grittier, less resolved take on gentrification and power, it might disappoint.

There are books that shout their themes from the rooftops, and there are books like Signals in the Static that whisper them into your ear while you’re doing something mundane—making coffee, cleaning up after a late-night broadcast—and then make you realize you’ve been braced for the punchline all along. The author does a masterful job of compressing a community’s layered history into small artifacts: a metal cabinet of tapes, a turntable with a stubborn groove, June’s laughter that both comforts and warns. My favorite scene is the first full playback of Lola Ortega’s tape. It’s cinematic in its simplicity: Maya leans in, the hiss swells, and Lola’s voice—ordinary and devastating—reframes an entire neighborhood’s past. From there the plot escalates logically: broadcasts stir the town, someone lifts evidence, the developer’s legal team circles like vultures. None of it feels manufactured; the tensions feel like natural consequences of telling inconvenient truths in a place that’s already on edge. What I found most compelling was Maya’s moral arc. She’s not a superhero whistleblower; she’s a kid learning the real weight of words. Her decisions about whether to use the station’s reach are messy and believable—the kind of coming-of-age choice that can reshape both a person and a place. The pacing leans into atmosphere more than action, which might frustrate readers wanting nonstop thrills, but for those who savor texture and ethics, it’s a real reward. A quietly powerful YA novel about memory, voice, and who owns a town’s story. I’ll be recommending it to book groups and radio lovers alike.

A short but resonant read—Maya as a protagonist is quietly fierce. The moment she sits in the studio after hours (coffee at the mixer, cassette in hand) is everything: intimate, tense, and hopeful. I adored the cassette of Lola Ortega and that line about briefcases and smiles. The book handles gentrification without getting preachy—more like a remembering that hurts and moves people to act. Smart YA; read it on a rainy afternoon. 🙂

I appreciated how the author used sound as a structural device—static, tape hiss, the clack of bus doors—to make the city itself a character. Maya pressing play on Lola Ortega’s tape is a brilliant pivot: a simple domestic memory becomes documentary evidence, and you can feel Maya’s heartbeat in that moment. The writing trusts small sensory details (peppermint gum, scratched turntable) to build atmosphere rather than explaining everything. Thematically it’s sharp: gentrification, memory, who gets to tell history. The legal threats and the scene with stolen evidence are the right kind of tension for YA—high stakes but tied to a moral dilemma, not just action. I wanted one or two more scenes exploring June’s past radio fame, but that’s a quibble. Overall, thoughtful and well-crafted.