Akemi Dawn Bowman’s celebrated debut, Starfish,published last year, is striking in the way it artfully addresses issues of neglect, abuse, and race. After all, those are weighty topics for any age, let alone the young adult audience for whom Bowman writes. The overwhelmingly positive response she saw substantiated her belief that young people are not only willing to engage with such stories, but need them. “I think to read about that stuff in a story is a way of making you feel like you’re not going through it alone,” she says. Such was the intention when crafting her new novel, Summer Bird Blue, a delicate story of grief and the way death affects those it leaves behind.

In the novel, Rumi and Lea are sisters, best friends, and musical partners—and their mother is their No. 1 fan. Then there’s the accident, and Lea dies. As her mother grapples with the crippling grief of losing a child, Rumi is sent to stay with her aunt in Hawaii. Despite the beauty and charms of life on the island, Rumi is consumed with anger. She’s angry at her mother for sending her away, at her sister for leaving her, at herself, and at everyone around her.

“It’s crushing,” Bowman says of the grief of losing a loved one, “and you don’t know what to do. People try to help by saying ‘it’s going to be OK’ or ‘it just takes time,’ but there’s no timeline. You’re in this darkness, and you have no idea what to expect. It can all feel very hopeless.”

Rumi has a lot of people trying to help. There’s her aunt and her neighbor Kai, who have very different approaches to healing. And then there’s her 80-year-old neighbor Mr. Watanabe who, despite not having fully moved on from his own loss, provides the guidance she needs.

“I think just as you want to see yourself reflected in stories, seeing your grief reflected in another person helps,” Bowman explains of this seemingly odd pairing. “He doesn’t treat her any differently, and she gravitates toward that. And then he also really loves music, which helps bring her back to her own music.”

Music forms the backbone of Rumi’s life and story. She and Lea were writing a song together when the accident happened. Afterward, grasping for a means to say goodbye to her sister, Rumi decides to finish that song. But the pain keeps her away. With the help of her elderly, grumpy neighbor and friends she makes on the island, however, she attempts to navigate the tricky line between grieving and healing.

Through Rumi and her mother, in particular, Bowman weaves a powerful story that does justice to the complex nature of loss. “People grieve in different ways,” she says, “and there’s no one way to react.” But more than that, the diversity of her characters ensures that her readers will see themselves in Summer Bird Blue, even if only in part. “I hope it helps people to feel seen,” she concludes. “I hope it reaches people who are dealing with grief or family life or wondering where their sexuality fits, and I hope they feel like someone else understands. And Hawaii,” she adds, “it’s so diverse, mostly nonwhite. For so many people, to see that is to see something familiar. It feels like family.”

James Feder is a writer based in Tel Aviv.