It’s magic, but not the TikTok kind
If your teen spends a lot of time in the "BookTok" corners of the internet, they might see the cover and the mention of a mother turning into a bird and expect a whimsical fantasy. You should clarify that this isn't that. While the magical realism is central to the plot, the "magic" here functions as a psychological safety valve for a girl who is drowning in trauma.
If they are looking for the sparkly, high-stakes escapism found in something like the Once Upon a Broken Heart series, they will find this book jarringly grounded. Pan uses the bird as a metaphor for the things we can't look at directly. It’s beautiful, but it’s heavy. This is a story for the kid who wants to feel things deeply, not the one looking for a fun weekend distraction.
A mystery across the Pacific
The middle of the book shifts from a static portrait of grief in America to a vivid, sensory-heavy journey through Taiwan. This isn't just a change of scenery; it turns the book into a detective story. Leigh is trying to find her mother (the bird) while simultaneously uncovering why her mother and grandparents were estranged for decades.
This makes it one of the most compelling Asian immigrant family stories in the YA space because it doesn't treat the "old country" as a monolith. Taiwan is presented with specific, messy, and modern detail. The way Pan writes about food, colors, and the language barrier feels visceral. It’s a great pick if you’re looking for books with Asian American characters that move beyond the "lunchbox moment" tropes and into the complicated reality of being biracial and searching for a history you were never told.
The "heavy hitter" comparison
John Green’s endorsement on the jacket is a perfect North Star for this book’s vibe. If your teen gravitated toward The Fault in Our Stars or Turtles All the Way Down, they are the target audience here. Pan writes for that specific type of reader: the one who likes to underline sentences and sit in a dark room thinking about the fragility of life.
The book is exceptionally candid about the mechanics of depression. It doesn't treat suicide as a plot device or a "lesson" for the protagonist to learn. Instead, it portrays it as a tragic, complicated outcome of a long-term illness. Because of that, it’s a challenging read. If your teen is currently in a headspace where they need "light and airy," keep this on the shelf for a few months. But if they are ready to talk about the hard stuff, this book provides a better bridge for those conversations than almost anything else in the genre.
Don't expect them to finish it in one sitting. The pacing is deliberate—some might even say languid—and it demands that the reader slow down and match its rhythm. It’s a book that stays with you long after the final page, mostly because it refuses to give the easy, happy-ending answers that less ambitious novels might offer.
