Naomi Weisman is a Canadian-Australian and mother of three who loves to Ramble with her dog, cook for family and friends, and laugh whenever possible.
The Instrumentalist by Harriet Constable reimagines the life of Anna Maria della Pietà, a real 18th-century Venetian orphan whose extraordinary musical talent caught the attention of Antonio Vivaldi. I went into this novel expecting a beautifully written piece of historical fiction about music and Venice. What I found was something far more layered: immersive, unsettling, and quietly powerful.
Set in late-1600s and early-1700s Venice, the story follows Anna Maria, an abandoned child raised in the Pietà—an orphanage for girls that also functioned as one of the city’s most prestigious musical institutions.
Anna Maria experiences music through synesthesia, a neurological phenomenon in which the senses overlap — so that sound may appear as color, shape, or movement. In her case, music becomes something she quite literally sees and feels, not just hears. Constable’s writing makes this sensory world vivid and almost tangible on the page.
What struck me most was how vividly Constable captures both the beauty and constraints of that world. The narrow canals, cloistered walls, and shimmering atmosphere of Venice are richly drawn, yet always shadowed by the realities faced by women of the time. Talent could be nurtured, but independence was rare. Recognition was selective. And women’s creative lives were shaped by forces far beyond their control.
Anna Maria herself is a fascinating and complex presence. She is gifted, driven, and deeply absorbed by her art — not always easy to love, but impossible to ignore. I found myself thinking about how differently we often expect women to carry brilliance: with humility, softness, gratitude, and how rarely we allow them ambition without apology.
And then there is Vivaldi. His role in the story invites reflection on mentorship, power, and who gets to shape a legacy. The relationship between teacher and student is presented with nuance rather than easy judgment, leaving the reader to sit with the questions it raises.
One of the most memorable elements of this novel is the way Constable writes music as color. The language is almost musical itself. There were moments where I felt as though I could see sound.
More than anything, this book made me reflect on how many women’s stories have quietly slipped through history’s cracks — and how powerful it is when fiction gives them voice again.
The Instrumentalist is an accessible read with surprising depth. It is atmospheric, thought-provoking, and lingers well beyond its final page.
⭐⭐⭐⭐Nomi’s Verdict:
A richly imagined and emotionally resonant novel that invites us to listen more closely — not just to music, but to the women whose brilliance has too often muted.
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