A Symphony of Voices: A Review of The Siren and the Star
When I first heard about Colby Cedar Smith’s The Siren and the Star, I was instantly captivated by the concept: a novel-in-verse intertwining the stories of two women, centuries apart, both bound by music and resilience. As someone who has always found solace in the power of song and poetry, the idea of exploring these themes through a dual narrative felt like an invitation to a deeply immersive experience—and oh, what an experience it turned out to be!
The novel follows Luciana “Lula” Gabroni, a talented yet introverted music student at the New England Conservatory, and Barbara Strozzi, a real-life 17th-century Venetian composer. Following a traumatic assault, Lula escapes to Venice for a music festival, where she uncovers Barbara’s compositions. This discovery ignites a connection between the two women—one that serves as a lifeline for Lula in her journey to reclaim her voice and redefine her identity.
What struck me most about Smith’s writing is how exquisitely she distinguishes the voices of her protagonists. Lula’s verse is compressed and infused with anxiety, a direct reflection of her state of mind, while Barbara’s flows with an enchanting rhythm and sensuality, echoing the vibrancy of her era. This contrast not only elevates the storytelling but also reinforces the thematic core: both women grapple with societal expectations and personal struggles, particularly in the shadows of their mothers and patriarchal norms.
The pacing of the narrative is akin to an opera, with alternating acts that propel the reader from the present to the past seamlessly. Smith’s lush descriptions of Venice—its misty canals and opulent salons—are imbued with a painterly quality that left me longing to wander its streets. The city, a character in its own right, echoes the journey of both women—timeless, beautiful, yet fraught with challenges.
One passage that resonated profoundly with me describes how music can articulate what words often fail to express. I found myself reflecting on my own experiences with music as a cathartic escape and a means of connection. Smith’s ability to weave these themes throughout her verse highlights not only the emotional power of music but also its ability to unify our disparate experiences.
The Siren and the Star doesn’t shy away from darker topics, such as trauma and recovery, approaching them with the sensitivity and nuance they deserve. While Lula’s struggle with impostor syndrome and PTSD is palpable, she is not defined solely by her trauma; instead, her journey to find healing and strength reaffirms the importance of agency and self-discovery.
I can wholeheartedly recommend this novel to those who appreciate lyrical writing, feminist themes, or stories that delve into the complexities of womanhood and creativity. Readers who enjoy the emotive storytelling found in works like The Poet X or The House in the Cerulean Sea will find a rich, harmonious experience in The Siren and the Star.
For me personally, this book was a beautiful reminder of how stories transcend time, allowing voices—both remembered and forgotten—to echo through the ages. It left me feeling uplifted and inspired, a testament to the enchanting ability of art to connect us all. So, if you’re ready for a lyrical journey that sings the praises of resilience and creativity, grab a copy of The Siren and the Star. You won’t regret it!
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