The Sounding Line

Snappy premise, kind of meh execution. Look, I adore lighthouses and salted hair prose as much as the next person, and the scene where Isla flips the antique shortwave on (because of course she does) and hears the harmonica is cinematic. The smell of wet iron and kelp? Nailed it. But then the plot trots forward on rails I’ve seen before: missing-brother angst, secret corporate plot, quirky older mentor, plucky intern who just happens to know the right thing. It reads like a checklist of YA beats. A few turned moments felt too tidy — the found family forms a little too quickly, and the corporate bad guys are a touch one-dimensional. Also, the mechanics of the whole sound-network thing strained my willing suspension of disbelief sometimes; it relies on coincidences and tech-babble just enough to annoy. That said, the writing has real moments: the author can create atmosphere and small, honest moments of grief. If you want cozy coastal vibes with an accessible mystery and aren’t bothered by familiar tropes, this will be a fun read. If you’re after something groundbreaking, maybe skip it.

I wanted to love this more than I did. The opening is gorgeous — the lighthouse museum, the kelp-smell, that tiny moment when Isla recognizes the three-note harmonica line — but halfway through the book I kept waiting for the momentum to pick back up and it never quite did. The corporate conspiracy is interesting on paper, but the reveal felt a little predictable and convenient: I had already guessed the who and the how before several clues were fully explored. Characters aside from Isla often act as plot tools rather than people; the retired acoustician has brilliant lines but relatively little development, and the scrappy intern is charming but thin. I also had questions about the tech: how exactly does a harmonica signal get picked up and routed through a lighthouse radio with such consistency? The book asks you to accept a few big coincidences. Beautiful prose and a strong emotional center — just uneven pacing and a few logic gaps that kept this from being great for me.

Short and sweet: I loved the mood. That first chapter — Mr. Hendry’s warning, the temptation of the display radio, the fog sneaking in — had me hooked. Isla’s relationship to sound (and to Eli’s harmonica) is the novel’s heartbeat. Found-family vibes with the retired acoustician and the intern are warm and believable. Could’ve used a bit more tension at times, but all in all a cozy-thriller mashup I’d recommend to YA readers. 👏

The Sounding Line is a smart blend of sensory writing and near-future intrigue. I appreciated how sound functions as both plot device and metaphor: the harmonica’s three-note motif, the antique shortwave’s hiss, even the tide’s sigh are threaded through the narrative to reveal clues and character. The retired acoustician is a clever addition — his explanations about how sound travels under water felt grounded without collapsing into info-dump. The scrappy intern brings levity and practical know-how, which offsets some of the story’s weightier moments about grief and corporate malfeasance. Structurally the book moves confidently. The slow-burn opening (Isla recording the harmonica, sneaking the radio on at the museum) sets up the mystery well, and the transitions into the harbor’s hidden network are plausible within the story’s near-future frame. The ecological angle is handled with restraint: the corporate scheme feels motivated, and the solutions aren’t overly neat. My only quibble is that a couple of secondary characters could have used more interiority, but that’s a minor issue in a tightly plotted YA mystery. Overall, an intelligent, atmospheric read that rewards close listening.

I cried on the ferry home thinking about Isla and that harmonica. The opening scene — the Fresnel lens splitting light into syrupy bands, the cold fog tasting like salt, and then the radio's static resolving into three notes up, two down — is quietly devastating. Isla's grief feels lived-in, not theatrical: the way she polishes the brass plaque to slow time, the flash of Eli at the foot of her bed, all of it sits in your chest. What surprised me most was how the book mixes a tender coming-of-age with a lean eco-thriller. The retired acoustician and the scrappy intern are more than sidekicks; they make a found family that rings true. The stakes — corporate greed under a Maine harbor — never drown the quieter scenes of listening and memory. If you love coastal atmospheres and emotional mysteries, this one stayed with me long after the last page.