I'm on a roll for reading books from authors who have written some of my favorites of years past. I recently read, loved, and reviewed The Palace of Eros. And now this, from the author who wrote The Vanished Birds, which was one of my favorites from 2020. It's been both on my TBR list and my physical shelf for a while now. I actually picked it up and started reading it a year or so ago, but I just couldn't find my footing with it. And since a few other readers whose reviews I trust and usually agree with had said they loved it, and I knew I had loved previous writing from Jimenez, I chose to put it down and wait until I was in a better place for it. Which was absolutely the correct choice, as this second attempt was a much better experience. Unrelated, but I must mention: look at that cover. STUNNING. 

 

In the ancient history of our (present day) MC's ancestral homeland, the people suffered under the rule of the Moon Throne, in particular at the hands of the Three Terrors, the sons of the emperor who held power through the "gifts" they inherited from a god(dess). When said god(dess) escapes the captivity she'd been forced into, she sets out to unmake her children whose rule has turned so despotic and oppressive. She is joined by two unlikely helpers: Jun, whose guilt over his violent past threatens to overcome him, and Keema, a solitary survivor of a remote tribe and lowly in the eyes of the country. Together, they set out on a five-day journey striving to end the Moon Throne and find freedom for the people of the land. The one-liner blurb from Godreads says: "Two warriors shepherd an ancient god across a broken land to end the tyrannical reign of a royal family in this new epic fantasy..." and that about sums it right up. 

 

This story was told in a fascinating mix of voices and perspectives: some present day conversational, some in a dream, some through storytelling/performance, and a whole chorus that are maybe alive and maybe dead and maybe real and maybe spirits. It's like an entire narration of combined forms of shared (and sharing) memory telling this story. I have never read anything like it. And I'll be honest, it did take me a hot minute to get into the unique flow. It was so smoothly done - perhaps too smoothly - that I had to pay quite a lot of attention to catch the un-notated (for the most part) and frequent switches in perspective and other narrative voice(s) interjections. In physical format, there were paragraph breaks and italics and font changes that assisted with that visually; in audio format (I used both) the narrator had slight tone/accent changes that helped as well, but took a bit longer for me to catch onto. Basically, just be aware that there is some upfront effort in reading this, before you can sink fully/comfortably into the story. But it is impressive how effortless Jimenez makes pulling off this uncommon and ephemeral style. 

 

This interweaving of folklore and history, the hallmark of classic storytelling, has an understated and subtle, but emotionally affective, parallel and connection to the tale to a present (ish) day boy and his family. It's a slow paced build. And one that is great not for its dramatics and twists, though there are many dramatics (battles, conspiracies, revolutions, secrets, gods and magical powers), rather for the profundity of the build. The breadth and depth of the world-building and character growth are impressive. That restrained, but powerful, style of story development seems to be central to Jimenez's style, as The Vanished Birds has a similar understated style of telling. For all that they're sweeping and epic in scope, the emotions the reader feels are surprising for the intensity of their hit and staying power due to the delivery. And then for the finale, the final 15% ish, Jimenez brings the story to its peak magnificently, with a slight increase in tempo and final pulling together of disparate threads, that gripped me, as the reader, so tightly.   

 

And it was clear how much feeling Jimenez poured into this novel. This is a heartfelt telling, in all the beautiful and ugly aspects. And it is a clear homage to the way that folklore and storytelling can maintain a connection to a land/ancestry even through untold generations. A gorgeous, simply gorgeous, tale of reconnection with the earth that bore us, the stories created and passed down to explain its great natural magic, and all through a mystical dream-based message bearing that fits the vibes perfectly. 

 

I want to, in particular, shout out the relationship between Keema and Jun, our primary MCs. The pull between them is so reminiscent of the deep-seated and pushed-down yearning and slow burn and queerness that is a hallmark (that I love) of Samantha Shannon’s Roots of Chaos series. And their ending... Oh my heart, the tenderness and hope were worth the wait. And it still isn't overdone or cheesy or too easy, a very real contented-style ending. 

 

This novel was engrossing. It built with an inexorable pull that I didn't even notice until it was "too late," as it were. It wasn't a simple read - no easy escapism here - but the transporting experience was worth the extra effort on my part. It's one that I am glad I put on hold, and waited until I was in the right mental-emotional place to read it. If this sounds good to you, like you're in the right place for it yourself, I recommend it completely. 

 

 

“…for some tales are too large to be told by one voice alone.” 

 

“I have lived a long time [...] And the longer I live, the more it surprises me, and saddens me, how wise the young must become to live in this world.” 

 

“It is all a spiral that feeds into itself with the gathering weight at the center we call Power.” 

 

“You can fault the dancer, but more often than not, it is the dance itself that has to change.” 

 

“You know what it is to be alone. You’ve been too scared to be anything else.” 

 

 “Because it makes him feel special. It makes him feel greater than himself. As though he is a part of a larger network of ideals than his own survival.” 

 

“The body holds the body. The arms hold the spear. And the spear cuts through water.” 

 

“To the Sleeping Sea he would go, to join the energies of those who had passed before him, and had become once more synonymous with the world. Perhaps he would return as the eyes of a fish, or the pulsing heart of a creature deep below who wakes only rarely, only when time strikes it appropriate to do so, and it stands and brings with it to the surface a mighty pearl the size of the Moon, which it might throw up into the sky to give the people another holy satellite by which to walk on their way to their loving nighttime trysts beyond the village gates. This he might next become, there the last fireworks of thoughts that erupted from his brain as the Water filled him up - or maybe it would be even simpler than that. Maybe he would move up, instead of down. Maybe he would be drawn up into the sky. Higher than even the mountain from which his family might've come. Wherever the warriors of Daware had once laid their claim. Living inside of a dark cloud above the land, as it swelled and thundered before the burst. Maybe he would be the sound of drums itself. Maybe the rain.” 

 

“But perhaps now you understand that you are not a representative. That like the spear's journey through time, much of this dance is dictated by chance. You are merely, crucially, no one but yourself, as anyone else is themselves - mere stewards, gifting recursively over the divide of time this spear, that memory, to the people and the place from which they had come - and who, in turn, gift back to you your strange, and sad, and wide-eyed futures.”