Angélica is sad to say goodbye to her family in the Dominican Republic after a magical summer visit.
As a parting gift, Abuelito gives the child an antique güira, a cylindric metal percussion instrument. As he scrapes the güira with a metal comb, Abuelito tells Angélica about their ancestors who played the instrument before her. “This güira has power,” he tells her. “It makes the music go slow slow or speed up—fast fast.” Angélica is excited to bring this piece of her beloved Dominican Republic back home to New York City; she plays it loudly whenever she misses Abuelito. Her family and her orchestra teacher aren’t thrilled by the bold sounds, and Angélica can’t seem to find a place where her music is welcomed. Undeterred, she plays outside, drawing neighbors with tamboras, accordions, and more until their street ignites with music and dancing. In the rhythmic beats of the güira, Angélica finds a connection to her roots and a harmony that brings her Washington Heights community together. Heartwarming themes of familial love and heritage resonate throughout, and Angélica is a resilient and empathetic protagonist; readers will admire her persistence as she searches for belonging. Rainbow-hued swirls emanate from the güira, infusing Batista’s orderly scenes with energy; use of onomatopoeia gives the text an enjoyably rhythmic quality.
A melodic tribute to the power of music.
(Picture book. 5-9)