THE SPEAR CUTS THROUGH WATER

The dying Moon goddess enlists two young warriors to kill her tyrannical sons and return her bones to the sea.

“This is a love story to its blade-dented bone.” In the Old Country, when a warrior frees the Moon from the sky, she falls to Earth and grants him a wish—sons. Each son is imbued with god gifts and the title of emperor, but the people are left without a moon to light their way. The tyrannical royals eventually imprison the Moon, angering her lover, the Water, who curses the land with drought. But the dying Moon has a plan: She gives the last emperor triplets—the Three Terrors—and spreads the god gifts among them, weakening them. Eventually she convinces Jun, the First Terror’s favorite son and most ruthless killer, to free her and right both their wrongs. Upon escape, they meet one-armed Keema, a young warrior “of poor fortune” working at Tiger Gate. The people are rebelling against the royals, and Keema has pledged to deliver a sacred spear to Cmdr. Araya’s kin. The Moon also enlists Keema’s help despite Jun’s protests. Between battling the Terrors, avenging gods and goddesses, fighting for the people, and fighting one another, Keema and Jun fall in love. If they can survive long enough to return the Moon to the Water’s embrace, they’ll end the Terrors’ reign and defeat both drought and darkness. Jimenez deftly weaves past, present, and future into one seamless narrative. Writing in first, second, and third person, Jimenez makes sure “you” are part of this story, too, casting you as Araya’s descendent and current keeper of the spear. You’ve been called to the Inverted Theater—built by the Moon and Water for liaisons long before the Terrors were born. Now the theater calls dreamers together to experience their shared history. You’re both Jimenez’s reader and “you,” who’s listening to and remembering your lola (grandmother in Tagalog) tell tales of the Old Country when you are/were a child. In your lonely, adult present, your dreaming spirit watches those tales reenacted by dancers in the Inverted Theater. Yet you’re also living the stories as each character—from bit-player peasant to powerful goddess. You experience Jun’s PTSD, Keema’s disability—never explained, simply a part of him—and all the guilt, anger, pain, fear, joy, desire, and love that make Jimenez’s tapestry so beautiful. It’s both like nothing and everything you’ve ever read: a tale made from the threads that weave the world, and all of us, together.

Lyrical, evocative, part poem, part prose—not to be missed by anyone, especially fans of historical fantasy and folktale.