Iz Beaufort, a musically inclined 14-year-old girl who has lived in 26 foster care homes and attended 14 schools, is accustomed to a life of transience and detachment from the people around her. Slumbering away from her passion, an unexpected encounter with Manifesto, a musical group composed of students around her age from the esteemed Métier School, strikes a chord with her growing indifference toward life. "You say my road's not there at all / Although it seems to me that it is all I see," the budding songstress writes. Iz's awakening propels her to pursue her passion against all odds, even if it means she has to commit illicit activities.

Currie (The Mask That Sang) offers an endearing musical story beautifully spun out in words. Iz's story epitomizes what it takes to pursue the heart's deepest aspirations as she again seizes the cathartic power of music as a means to express herself—despite being an amateur amid a knowledgeable set of soon-to-be friends. As she perseveres in that, she also strives to make sense of the lingering presence of "That Place," her term for the trauma she has yet to heal from. Music also becomes the means through which Iz gradually forms connections. Through these compelling, convincingly drawn relationships, Currie deftly underscores the ripple effects of small gestures of kindness.

The plot's somewhat familiar, at times even predictable, but Currie still surprises throughout with striking insights, evocative phrasing, and some heartbreaking twists. Written with a moving, eloquent restraint, Iz the Apocalypse is a testament to the undeniable link between art and therapy, and its strength lies in coming to terms with one's individuality—just like Iz's unique guitar tuning—and challenging societal norms. "Well, this prisoner shall be unbound / So I tear the mantle of heaven down." Ize's message is resonant: Know your rights, follow your heart, and thrive.

Takeaway: Deeply moving story of a teen girl's melodic journey to discovering herself.

Comparable Titles: Ashley Woodfolk's The Beauty That Remains, Gayle Forman's If I Stay.

Production grades Cover: A Design and typography: A- Illustrations: N/A Editing: A Marketing copy: A

In the emotive novel Iz the Apocalypse, a musical girl works through her trauma in search of a sense of belonging.

In the emotional whirlwind of Susan Currie's novel Iz the Apocalypse, a girl in foster care with a passion for music discovers her own voice and works to take control of her own life, finding a support system along the way.

Iz has spent her entire childhood being shuffled around different foster homes, moving from school to school with no sense of community or autonomy. Her current foster mother, Pat, barely pays attention to Iz, as she's too wrapped up in planning her daughter Britnee's wedding. When Iz hears Manifesto, a performance group from the Métier School of Music, play together for the first time, she does everything in her power to get herself into that school. Iz is admitted but goes to complicated lengths to keep it a secret from her foster family.

In its first half, during moments of emotional turmoil for Iz, her traumatic past is hinted at, emphasizing that she is not in a place to face her memories yet. Her trauma is a constant presence in the story, exemplifying how painful experiences stay with a person always. Much of the story is told via conversations that keep the tension high; Iz is constantly on edge, scared of being caught in the multiple lies she's woven in order to audition for and attend Métier.

Iz faces several challenges throughout the book, and these challenges compound as she is made more aware of the world around her. In the first half of the book, she is so focused on the tangible, material things she needs to get into Métier, such as money and transcripts, that the people standing directly in her way seem to be Pat and Britnee. But during a midway peak, the perspective on Iz's struggles zooms out, revealing the bigger picture—including the systemic issues within the foster care system that prevented Iz's potential from being recognized earlier. This shift turns those who seemed like direct antagonists into mere representatives of a larger issue, humanizing them and allowing for reconciliation. Iz goes from being fiercely independent out of necessity to learning how to accept support from those around her—who do care for her.

The book's characterizations are somewhat undermined by people's introductions coming via long lists of descriptors. Further, the prose is muddied by frequent and disconnected metaphors. Its descriptions of music, however, are beautiful, feeding into sentences that flow like music themselves, with visceral and embodied images. Music—as an art, a study, and a form of expression—is treated with profound care.

In the emotive novel Iz the Apocalypse, a musical girl works through her trauma in search of a sense of belonging.