What Role Does Music Play In 'The Sky Is Everywhere'?

Music in 'The Sky Is Everywhere' isn't just background noise—it's the heartbeat of Lennie's grief and growth. As a band geek, she clings to her clarinet like a lifeline, using music to express what words can't after her sister's death. The way she plays Mozart's 'Requiem' with raw, messy emotion shows how music becomes her language of loss. But it's also how she rediscovers joy, especially when Joe teaches her to improvise. Those chaotic jam sessions mirror her chaotic healing process—sometimes harmonious, sometimes discordant, but always alive. The book makes music feel tangible, like another character guiding Lennie through pain toward something new.

The novel treats music as both a prison and a liberation for Lennie. Early on, she's trapped in classical perfectionism, using technical precision to avoid feeling her sister Bailey's absence. Every note is measured, controlled—just like her bottled-up grief. Then Joe crashes into her world with his guitar and punk rock attitude, shattering those rigid structures. Their musical clashes are brilliant metaphors: his freewheeling style forces her to abandon sheet music and play by ear, literally and emotionally.

What's fascinating is how folk songs weave through the plot like a second narrative. Lennie finds Bailey's lyrics scribbled everywhere, revealing secrets and regrets through half-finished melodies. These fragments become a way for the sisters to 'communicate' after death. Music also bridges the living—Toby and Lennie bond over Bailey's playlists, while Joe uses songwriting to confess feelings too big for conversation. The book suggests music isn't just art; it's the glue holding broken people together.

Jandy Nelson turns music into a sensory experience in 'The Sky Is Everywhere'. You can almost hear Lennie's clarinet—reedy and vulnerable in solo practice, then bold and brassy when she finally joins Joe's band. The contrast between classical and rock mirrors her inner conflict: tradition versus rebellion, grief versus desire. Even the chapter titles are musical terms ('Adagio,' 'Fortissimo') that mirror her emotional volume.

Music also physically transforms spaces in the story. Lennie's bedroom wallpapered with concert tickets, the woods where Joe sings Leonard Cohen covers, the auditorium where she performs her sister's composition—each location resonates with specific sounds that trigger memories. The most poignant detail? Lennie keeps Bailey's iPod like a sacred relic, pressing play to hear her laugh between tracks. Here, music isn't just sound; it's a time machine for love and loss.