A Harmonious Journey Through Time: A Review of The Siren and the Star
Ah, the allure of books that weave together the present and the past has always enchanted me, and Colby Cedar Smith’s The Siren and the Star does just that in a strikingly beautiful manner. When I first came across this novel-in-verse, I was drawn not only to its lush descriptions and dual narratives but also to its central themes of resilience and self-discovery, all framed within the enchanting world of music. Thanks to Netgalley and Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers for providing me with an ARC in exchange for this honest review.
The Siren and the Star unfolds the stories of two extraordinary women—Luciana “Lula” Gabroni, a contemporary music student, and Barbara Strozzi, a 17th-century Venetian composer. The brilliance of Smith’s storytelling emerges as she skillfully alternates between these two powerful voices. Lula is a gifted yet introverted student grappling with trauma and impostor syndrome, while Barbara, a real-life figure, rises from societal constraints to become a celebrated composer, all set against the backdrop of patriarchal Venice.
What struck me most was Smith’s dexterity in distinguishing the voices of her narrators. The lyrical quality of Barbara’s verses felt like a free-flowing melody that transported me to the opulent salons of Venice, while Lula’s compressed and anxious tone mirrored her struggles with self-worth and anxiety. This interplay between past and present illuminated the universal battle against societal expectations that both women faced, making their stories resonate on multiple levels.
Venice itself becomes a character in this narrative, painted in exquisite detail—its misty canals and vibrant streets just as breathtaking as the musical compositions that bind these characters. Smith’s descriptions possess a painterly quality, invoking emotions that linger long after reading. I was particularly taken by how Barbara’s world echoed a feminist Cinderella story. Rising through adversity, her experience illuminated how art can triumph over oppression, which remains significant in today’s context.
Beyond the enchanting description, Smith’s exploration of trauma is sensitively handled. While the book delves into weighty topics like violence and PTSD, it never reduces the characters to mere victims. Instead, Lula’s gradual journey toward healing, buoyed by a loving found family and Barbara’s music, is portrayed with inspiring honesty. With every verse, I felt Smith’s intention to reclaim voice and agency, resonating deeply with my own reflections on the power of art as healing.
The writing is rhythmic, flowing seamlessly, and each stanza feels like a note in a grand symphony—each contributing to an overarching emotional crescendo that left me breathless. It’s hard not to “hear” the music through Smith’s prose, where words become more than just text; they are the very sounds of feeling and emotion.
The Siren and the Star is an enchanting read that I believe will resonate with anyone who appreciates the nuances of womanhood, creativity, and the power of reclaiming one’s voice. For lovers of poetry, historical fiction, and music alike, this book will feel like a treasure unearthed—an aria that truly sings to the soul. Personally, it has inspired me to reflect on the threads of connection we share through art, regardless of time or circumstance. It’s not just a read; it’s a poignant reminder that our stories, like music, transcend boundaries, connecting us through shared experiences of pain and joy.
In conclusion, if you seek a book that vibrates with emotional truth and explores the complexities of women’s experiences, then The Siren and the Star is for you. Trust me—you won’t be able to put it down.