Starred Review for Kirkus Reviews (Thu Apr 28 00:00:00 CDT 2022)

A fictionalized account of a true story, published for the 25th anniversary of the Bosnian War, in which a young boy learns the healing power of music.Drasko and his father sell flowers in a Sarajevo marketplace. Drasko marvels at the way his father has a kind word (and sometimes even a free flower) for everyone, regardless of race, religion, scowl, or smile. But seemingly overnight, the country is suddenly at war, and Drasko's father must go play a part. Drasko takes over the flower stand, but now people are harried and rushed. One fateful morning, a whistling sound pierces the air. The bakery in the square is bombed, and 22 innocents are killed. The next day the square is silent, until a lone man in a tuxedo carries a chair and cello to the middle of the rubble and begins to play. He does this for 22 consecutive days, one for each of the lives that were lost. McCutcheon frames this story not around the unnamed cellist but around Drasko and the welling spirit of hope that one tiny, unexpected action can inspire. Critically, he does not identify Drasko's ethnicity or religion, emphasizing that "Serb and Croat, Muslim and Christian" are all affected. Smudged, faded backdrops highlight key moments in the framed foregrounds, with deep, jewel-toned roses standing out all the more. An included CD allows readers to hear the story narrated by the author, with an accompanying musical performance by Vedran Smailovic, the story's cellist. Beauty will always find a way to rise from violence, but this is a reminder all readers need. (historical note, further reading, author's note, musical score) (Picture book. 7-10)

ALA Booklist (Wed Feb 01 00:00:00 CST 2017)

After Drasko's father is sent away to war, it's up to him to sell flowers from their stand in the Sarajevo market. The tense mood pervading the city makes it hard to be optimistic or kind, especially after a bomb kills 22 people in the market. But a cellist's simple, defiant act of beauty inspires Drasko to find a shred of hope. Based on a real-life event after a notorious bombing in Sarajevo, McCutcheon's moving picture book follows Drasko as he copes with his father's absence and watches the cellist, Vedran Smailovic, play a mournful adagio every day for 22 days. Caldwell's thick-outlined figures are deeply expressive, and her treatment of the bombing is appropriately scary but never gruesome. The lengthy text might make this better suited to the older end of the picture-book set, and it will surely raise some questions, but an author's note briefly explaining the Bosnian conflict offers some context. An included audio CD (unavailable for review) contains a performance by Smailovic. A bittersweet account of the power of art in dark times.

Horn Book (Tue Aug 01 00:00:00 CDT 2017)

In this thought-provoking story, fictional boy Drasko experiences the restorative power of small acts of kindness and hope: real-life cellist Vedran Smailovic honors the twenty-two victims of a 1992 Sarajevo mortar attack by playing at the attack site the following twenty-two days. Gray-toned art in ink, charcoal, pencil, and Photoshop finds beauty in a war-ravaged place. Notes, music, and an audio CD included.

Kirkus Reviews (Fri Oct 04 00:00:00 CDT 2024)

A fictionalized account of a true story, published for the 25th anniversary of the Bosnian War, in which a young boy learns the healing power of music.Drasko and his father sell flowers in a Sarajevo marketplace. Drasko marvels at the way his father has a kind word (and sometimes even a free flower) for everyone, regardless of race, religion, scowl, or smile. But seemingly overnight, the country is suddenly at war, and Drasko's father must go play a part. Drasko takes over the flower stand, but now people are harried and rushed. One fateful morning, a whistling sound pierces the air. The bakery in the square is bombed, and 22 innocents are killed. The next day the square is silent, until a lone man in a tuxedo carries a chair and cello to the middle of the rubble and begins to play. He does this for 22 consecutive days, one for each of the lives that were lost. McCutcheon frames this story not around the unnamed cellist but around Drasko and the welling spirit of hope that one tiny, unexpected action can inspire. Critically, he does not identify Drasko's ethnicity or religion, emphasizing that "Serb and Croat, Muslim and Christian" are all affected. Smudged, faded backdrops highlight key moments in the framed foregrounds, with deep, jewel-toned roses standing out all the more. An included CD allows readers to hear the story narrated by the author, with an accompanying musical performance by Vedran Smailovic, the story's cellist. Beauty will always find a way to rise from violence, but this is a reminder all readers need. (historical note, further reading, author's note, musical score) (Picture book. 7-10)

Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)

McCutcheon follows Christmas in the Trenches with another powerful story of a musical performance that defied the horror of combat. During the civil war in the former Yugoslavia, a mortar attack in Sarajevo killed 22 people waiting in line for bread. The next day, a cellist appeared in the square where the attack occurred and played Albinoni-s -Adagio.- Vedran Smailovic played for 22 successive days-one for each victim. McCutcheon-s story introduces Drasko, whose father sells flowers in the marketplace where the massacre occurred. When his father leaves to fight, Drasko takes over the flower stand. After the cellist-s performance, the healing power of Smailovic-s music is seen in Drasko-s impulsive generosity: -Please take them,- he says to a woman buying roses. -Today they are free.- Newcomer Caldwell-s strongly drafted artwork observes the variety of faces in the market square and the classic European architecture that surrounds it. In an afterword, McCutcheon recounts a poignant exchange: -Why are you playing where there is bombing?- a soldier demanded. -Why are you bombing where I am playing?- Smailovic replied. An audio