Latine Music and Poetry Meet in New Verse Collection 'Sing Me a Story'
A new anthology edited and contributed to by Salazar brings together 17 authors to explore Latine music as memory, inheritance, and healing. The collection ranges across styles, places, and generations, with writers from Indigenous and Afro-Latine backgrounds among those represented.
In a new verse collection reviewed by Kirkus Reviews, editor and contributor Salazar frames the project as more than a group of poems: it is, in her words, “a playlist of stories, about music, for music, because of music, through the music of poetry.” That idea runs through the anthology from beginning to end, shaping a book that treats music not simply as subject matter but as a living cultural force.
The collection brings together 17 authors, including both widely known names and newer voices, in a celebration of Latine culture and song. Its contributors reflect a broad mix of cultural and ethnic backgrounds, among them Indigenous and Afro-Latine writers, as well as authors with ties to Cuba, Mexico, Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, and Costa Rica. The result is a work that moves across different poetic styles, geographic settings, and time periods while remaining unified by a shared sense of rhythm and inheritance.
One of the anthology’s central ideas is music as a gift passed down through generations. The poems return to dances, songs, and instruments handed down from ancestors, suggesting that artistic expression is also a form of cultural memory. Alongside these family and communal traditions, the book makes room for Latine musical figures past and present, giving moments of recognition to artists such as Ricky Martin, Selena, and Bad Bunny.
Kirkus highlights several standout pieces, including Ari Tison’s “Ala’s Song,” written by the Bribri poet. In that poem, the speaker describes singing words “older than me,” gathering language “like a bouquet” and weaving it “together in my heart.” The review also points to Jasminne Mendez’s “Altagracia’s Saturday Surprise,” in which a character’s connection to a guitar becomes a vivid metaphor for nourishment and need, with music described as “pouring water on thirsty soil.”
Those examples point to one of the anthology’s most striking qualities: music is not just celebratory, but restorative. In the stories, it can work as a balm, helping characters heal family struggles or move through emotional hardship. It can also help them discover who they are, or remember that identity when it has slipped out of reach.
That combination of cultural pride, emotional resonance, and formal variety gives the collection its significance for readers and for publishing more broadly. Books like this can expand the space given to Latine voices while showing how music and poetry can reinforce one another across generations and regions. With its mix of established and emerging writers, the anthology offers both recognition and discovery, suggesting a readership eager for stories that hear culture as much as they tell it.