Maybe I’m Amazed

Every page breaks your heart then repairs it with love, compassion and the magical power of music. A stunning reminder that the alchemy of music and words can overcome, heal and connect like no other art form.

This book taught me so much and delighted and moved me even more. Entrancing, heartbreaking, uplifting - a complete inspiration and education.

All of us who love music know it has a power beyond just the sound it makes. In this moving account of life with a neurodivergent child, we get to witness that power first hand.

A real page-turner, John Harris's wonderful book is literally awe-inspiring . . . it provides a touching and personal window into the relationship between a father and his autistic son and is an immensely valuable contribution to our understanding of the special connection between autistic people and music.

A fascinating journey into another way of knowing music and a testament to unconditional love. Brilliant.

One of the most honest, joyful stories I've ever read. This book contains magic.

As a tribute to the power of music to forge lines of communication between people separated by divergent ways of thinking (by extension, cultural and geographical boundaries as much as neurological ones), Maybe I'm Amazed is as uplifting as it is in other respects troubling. The obstacles facing the autistic and their carers are considerable enough without knee-jerk "othering". If we can all get down to Funkadelic's Fish, Chips And Sweat, maybe our brains don't work so differently after all.

As touching as it is informative, bringing together autism champions like Loma Wing and Simon Baron-Cohen with Macca and Mott the Hoople. It feels like an essential read for any music lovers with neurodiversity in the family, and for those who are neurotypical, too.

Touching and candid . . . This moving portrait of normal people dealing with an unfathomable situation captures the uncertainty, guilt and flashes of joy that having an autistic child brings [and] the freedoms and revelations that come through music.

Harris writes about music with wit, clarity and a welcome lack of pretension . . . through his and James's shared love of music, his initial doomy grief gives way to a constellation of admiration, fear, humour, awe and, of course, love. I wept several times, and the book wouldn't have that power without the author's willingness to be real and vulnerable. As he observes, autistic traits appear throughout humankind. You might say we're like everyone else - only more so.

Tender . . . full of wit and wisdom. His early chapters read like a cathartic outpouring about the hurdles and obstacles his family has had to face, but his forays into neuroscience get deeper by the page, which is where this book's real power lies. Brave [and] arresting. his book also underlines for us how music, in so many magical ways, can powerfully bring very different people together.

A brilliant book.