Maybe I’m Amazed is John Harris at his most reflective and humane, blending music writing with memoir to explore how songs lodge themselves in our lives and become markers of who we were, who we loved, and what we feared losing.
At the heart of the book is Harris’s experience of parenthood, particularly his relationship with his autistic son. This gives the book its emotional weight and honesty, as music becomes a constant presence — a source of comfort, connection, and sometimes uncertainty — while he navigates the anxieties and fierce love that come with wanting the very best for a child whose future feels both precious and unknowable.
As someone who loves music and has an autistic grandson, I found this deeply relatable. Harris captures how music can be both a refuge and a way of making sense of complicated emotions, and how it threads itself through family life in ways we don’t always notice until we stop to listen.
Harris writes with warmth, intelligence, and an appealing lack of pretension. His musical references are wide-ranging without being exclusionary, and the personal passages avoid sentimentality while remaining genuinely moving. There are moments, however, particularly when he delves into the more technical aspects of autism, where the prose can become a little dry and overly detailed, briefly slowing the book’s emotional momentum.
He is especially strong on doubt — about parenthood, responsibility, and whether the passions that once defined us can survive the demands of everyday life.
This is not a conventional music book, nor is it a straightforward memoir. Instead, it sits comfortably between the two, using pop music as a lens through which to explore love, vulnerability, and resilience.
A quietly powerful, compassionate book that will resonate with anyone for whom music is part of how they understand family, fear, and love.
I was always going to read this book - naming it after one of my favourite Paul McCartney songs was a sure fire way to bait the hook.
But it is such a good book.
It filled me with equal parts dread and joy. The dread is what every parent fears for their children - you want them to live happy, fulfilled lives, you want to be there to mentor them without getting in their way - like the “killing them with love” as referred to in the Billy Bragg song mentioned in the book. But what if that was possible - for whatever reason? What to do with the worry, grief and despair that can follow? John Harris articulates this so well.
But then there’s the elation you felt when you first encountered music that affected you, watching your kids experience that same feeling, and being able to share that experience together. Magical.
I was not only reading about this family’s joys and struggles, the book was sparking off memories from my own family’s life.
Ironically, in the past I have not enjoyed some of John Harris’ music writing - his opinions often seemed to differ greatly from my own. To my surprise, throughout the book I have discovered that we share. A great many musical touchstones, not the least of which are the Beatles.
Another 5 stars! I must be losing it. ‘Maybe I’m Amazed’ is the story of John Harris’s son James being diagnosed as autistic and their discovery of his fantastic relationship with music. It is both a heartwarming story but also a prelude to an uncertain future for James.
The story is structured around ten songs that James discovered and loved. James communicates through music and experiences it in ways most of us, even if we love and live music. He learns to play instruments and has a pitch perfect ear for music, being able to discern and memorise sequences of notes with incredible skill.
The book’s subtitle, ‘A Story of Love and Connection in Ten Songs’, is apposite. The love of James’ parents John (the author) and Ginny shines through as do the struggles they experienced to get James the education and support he needed.
I loved this book and would recommend it unreservedly to anyone who loves music, and, more importantly, to anyone who wan t to understand more of one form of autism.
And in the end The love you take Is equal to the love you make. The Beatles
I enjoyed this account of the importance of music throughout the author's life. From the forming of his early identity as a teen, to a career centred around music which led to meeting his wife, through to connecting with his autistic son who absolutely lights up when they listen to or create music together, music has always been there.
This book manages to be a love letter to music, parenting and autism.
Further than that, it does a wonderful job of transporting you into the excitement of the author's and his son's obsession with music and the wonderment of this.
Amazingly, it is a page-turner, and made me excited to listen to even more music. I've had so many records on because of this book.
Actually, I'm upgrading my review to a 5 because... how many books can do that?
One family's experience with an autistic child whose central special interest is music. Engages to some extent with autistic community perspectives, recognises that parental traits are relevant (without quite outright self-diagnosing), and reflects usefully on how medical and educational systems create negativity and barriers in situations where there's also joy and possibility.
As a parent of an autistic child, there are a lot of parallels between his son and my daughter and the journey we have found ourselves on as parents. It was lovely to read how much music speaks to James and hear how talented he is at remembering lyrics, facts and keys/chords. I wish them all the best for the future.
This is a fascinating, thought-provoking and heartening book about so many things. Following an autism diagnosis for his young son, James, John Harris writes movingly about James's intense connection with music. Highly recommended.
This is the real deal. If your child doesn't or didn't fit into the narrow slot of 'normal' at school, there might be some tears while you read. The music stuff is just beautiful. What a book.