Colonization and Oppression in The Sirens

Thematic Claim: Cycles of Domination

In The Sirens, Emilia Hart argues that colonization and oppression are cyclical, recurring across centuries and affecting different groups through similar mechanisms of displacement, control, and erasure. The novel intertwines the historical transportation of Irish convict women with the present-day struggles of their descendants, showing how British colonial rule, patriarchal violence, and systemic injustice persist in new forms. The claim is that oppression is not a single event but a continuous process that targets the vulnerable—first Indigenous peoples, then Irish Catholics, then women—and that resistance requires reclaiming voice and story.

Tracing the Theme Across Three Plot Threads

1. The Transportation of Irish Convict Women

The historical narrative of Mary Kissane and Eliza Kissane exemplifies the British colonization of Ireland and the state's use of exile to control rebellious subjects. After the failed 1798 rebellion, Mary and Eliza are transported for assaulting an Englishman—a crime rooted in their resistance to sexual violence. Their journey begins in a hold where women are packed together in darkness, their bodies and voices stripped of individuality. Mary learns to differentiate voices as a survival tactic, but the ship itself is a carceral space where the women are dehumanized, described as a "mass of hair and limbs." The captain and clergy force Protestant prayers on them, an act of religious oppression that erases their Catholic faith and Gaelic language. The figurehead of a mermaid with a fish tail, which Eliza interprets as a merrow from Irish folklore, becomes a symbol of their colonized identity—both exoticized and objectified by the English gaze. The journey to New South Wales is not a fresh start but an extension of the violence that began in Ireland.

2. The Erasure of Indigenous Peoples

The Historical Note explicitly contextualizes this transportation within the broader British invasion of Australia. Hart describes how Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples lost their land, lives, languages, and cultures to colonial violence, disease, and assimilation policies. The novel does not attempt to narrate First Nations stories; instead, it acknowledges the painful legacy and directs readers to Indigenous sources. This choice reflects a central tension: the story of Irish convicts is itself a story of colonization, yet it occurs on stolen land. The novel's setting—the coastal town of Comber Bay, built on Indigenous Country—reminds readers that oppression is layered. The Naiad shipwreck memorial, which locals find "controversial," shows how communities resist confronting uncomfortable histories. The town's superstition about voices from the waves suggests a collective denial of the past, mirroring the way colonization is often forgotten or mythologized.

3. Present-Day Systemic Injustice Against Women

In the contemporary timeline, Lucy Martin and Jess Martin face a different but parallel form of oppression. Lucy's experience at university—where a classmate shares an intimate photo of her without consent—reveals how institutions protect male perpetrators. The student welfare officer urges Lucy to consider Ben's future, telling her "as a mother of a son myself." This systemic bias forces Lucy to leave school. She reflects that the world is "stacked against her, just because she's female" and that there is "no number to call, no person to report to" that will yield justice. Meanwhile, Jess, an artist, is ostracized by the local community for painting the Naiad shipwreck. A local man, Ryan, explains that "out-of-towners" wanting to "dredge everything up" get people's "backs up." The townspeople prefer to forget the drowned women, just as they ignore the ongoing marginalization of women like Jess. Lucy's decision to investigate the past and write the stories of the Naiad women is an act of resistance against both historical erasure and contemporary silencing.

Character and Symbol Connections

The four central women—Mary, Eliza, Lucy, Jess—are linked by blood and by shared trauma. Mary acts as a "seer" for her blind sister, translating the world into words; Jess and Lucy also share dreams and sensory experiences across time. This connection suggests that oppression leaves a psychic imprint. The cave serves as a liminal space: in the Prologue, an unnamed woman gives birth there to a baby with a caul, while in the Epilogue, Robert Wilson finds a baby with webbed skin in the same cave. The cave represents both the hidden labor of women and the secret origins of the family line. Webbed skin and scales appear on Mare (the mermaid-like creature) and on the foundling baby, blurring the boundary between human and non-human, colonizer and colonized. The siren song is both a weapon—Mare admits to killing local men—and a tool of survival: the convict women sing to comfort each other in the hold, their voices merging into a defiant chorus. Jess's painting The Sirens depicts the sisters walking into the sea toward the Naiad, a visual reclaiming of the drowned women's agency.

Complexity and Contradiction

Hart does not present a simple dichotomy of victim and oppressor. The Epilogue reveals that Robert Wilson (later Mike Martin) has a secret affair with Mare, a creature who kills men but promises his safety. He rescues a baby from the cave—Lucy's biological sister—and raises her as his own. This act is both compassionate and possessive; he "vows never to let her go," echoing the colonial impulse to take and control. The novel suggests that even acts of love can be entangled with domination. Similarly, Lucy's violence against Ben—she attacks him in her sleep—is portrayed as both a traumatic response and a necessary step in her awakening. She writes that "her violence toward Ben was necessary for her journey," complicating the idea of innocent victimhood. The convict women themselves are not passive: they sing, scheme, and survive. Mary's mother appears in a nightmare as a monstrous figure with barnacles and empty eye sockets, a reminder that the sea's beauty conceals a consuming force. Oppression, the novel suggests, is never absolute; there is always room for agency, however constrained.

Study Questions and Answers

1. How does the novel connect the colonization of Ireland to the treatment of women?
   The novel parallels the British denial of Irish land rights and religious freedom with the patriarchal control of women's bodies. Mary and Eliza are transported because they defended themselves against sexual assault, and the English legal system treats them as property—much like the colonial state treated Ireland. In the present, Lucy faces a welfare officer who prioritizes Ben's reputation over her trauma, showing that similar power dynamics persist.

2. What role does the mermaid figurehead play in symbolizing colonization?
   The figurehead on the Naiad—a woman with a fish tail—is described as "wood and paint, larger than three men." It embodies the exoticized and sexualized image of the colonized subject. For Eliza, it recalls the merrow from Irish folklore, a creature of resistance and survival. But the figurehead is also a tool of the ship, leading convicts to their destination. It represents how colonized identities are both appropriated and commodified.

3. How do Lucy and Jess experience systemic oppression differently from Mary and Eliza?
   Mary and Eliza are physically displaced and imprisoned, their freedom stolen by the state. Lucy and Jess, while not legally transported, face institutional barriers: Lucy is suspended from university after reporting assault, and Jess is shunned by her town for reminding them of the shipwreck. Both sisters internalize shame and isolation, but they have access to technology (Lucy's research, Jess's art) that Mary and Eliza lacked.

4. Why does the author include a Historical Note directing readers to Indigenous sources?
   Hart acknowledges that the story of Irish convicts is not the full story of Australian colonization. By citing the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies, she foregrounds First Nations perspectives without claiming to represent them. This choice respects the limits of her authority and invites readers to seek out the stories of those whose lands were stolen—an essential act of decolonization within the text.

5. What does the Epilogue suggest about the possibility of escaping oppression?
   The Epilogue shows that the cycle of oppression can be interrupted by individual acts of care—Robert's rescue of the baby—but these acts are not pure. Robert's promise to "never let her go" contains a possessive undertone. The baby, with webbed fingers and shimmering skin, carries the legacy of Mare, a creature who killed to protect herself. Thus, escape is partial and provisional; the next generation inherits both trauma and strength, and the struggle for freedom continues.