Book of the Month: ‘The Spear Cuts Through Water’ by Simon Jimenez
“Before you arrive,
you remember your lola, smoking. You remember the smell of her dried tobacco, like hay after a storm. The soft crinkle of the rolling paper. The tip of the matchstick, which she’d sometimes strike against the lizard-rough skin of her leg, to impress you. […] “It was all so very different back then,” she’d begin, and you’d watch the paper curl and burn between her fingers as she described the one hundred wolves who hunted the runaway sun, and the mighty sword of Jidero, so thin it could cut open the space between seconds. Her words were forever married to the musk of her cigarette and her bone-rattling laughter; so much so that whenever you think of that place, long ago and far away, you cannot help but think of smoke, and death.”
(pg. 15)
The Spear Cuts Through Water is one of the most unique fantasy novels you might ever read. From the very first page, we are introduced to the creative narrative and writing style this book has to offer; a 2nd person perspective, fluttering through tenses and view points, with gorgeous descriptions and world-building lovingly stitched into every line. The vast horizon of novels provides us a range of imaginative 2nd person perspectives, but none can compare to the perfectly execution of Simon Jimenez’s story.
This standalone fantasy novel introduces you to this world through the ancient tale told by your lola. Trippy and multi-dimensional, you dream, you listen, you watch as the real story happens around you, told both in traditional storytelling prose, as well as through a performance.
Following the journey of Jun and Keema, their goal is to rescue an imprisoned god and overthrow the powerful royal family. From the offset, this is a classic action-adventure fantasy, where two unlikely heroes might rise up against oppression. Their journey tours us of the world, its magic and teaches us the twisted history which brought us to such a dark present. Yet, linked with the beautiful narrative, this world becomes ten times as rich. Ghosts of the dead slip into the narrative to add flavour to the characters’ actions, and some scenes fade away to the re-enactment of the stage performance. Perspectives slip back and forth, as smooth as water. All the while, Jimenez does this with careful attention—it’s a book you can tell the author has stopped to consider each individual word, to make it perfect. He uses italics to highlight when new voices—suddenly first person and a reflective past-tense—bubble up into the narrative, seamlessly taking control of the narrative’s voice.
As I grew familiar with the creative narrative style, it is then when Jimenez would add a new layer to the narrative, like a fresh layer of snow, breathtaking and glistening. The very narrative is integral to the world building, too. Never have I read a book that makes the world and its magic so real, so easily understandable, as The Spear Cuts Through Water does.
Every set up had a beyond perfect pay off. Questions you might have at the beginning are answered in the most dazzling and imaginative ways possible, linking to minor details brought up earlier in the novel, that as I remember them now, I can vividly see the connections between them, can see the clear paths leading to the endgame results. Everything is tied up, no detail wasted, for a satisfying finale.
With the rise of series in entertainment, seeing so many books, films or TV series ending with cliffhangers, it is relieving to find a complete novel with a closed finale. There are so many books to read with multiple sequels queueing up, so I can only praise the standalone novel, especially in the fantasy genre, and The Spear Cuts Through Water delivers a satisfying, complete story. Jimenez’s writing and world building is definitely something I want to return to, but I am glad at the conclusion of The Spear Cuts Through Water, and would need wrangling to squeeze out a potential sequel.
Jun and Keema’s characters are interesting ones. Both are of the military mindset: of a need to accomplish, with little room for their own likes and dislikes. In a grand adventure seeing them rescue a god and try to rid the royal family of its power, it made sense that their characters were objective orientated, and didn’t stray from duty. Yet, learning their histories and their weaknesses doesn’t quite make them fully fleshed characters. I cared for them both and enjoyed their relationship, but they weren’t characters I wanted to follow from book to book. Both of their characters were do-or-die, they themselves can’t picture a life outside of duty, so it makes sense they don’t have the space to explore who they are. I can’t imagine their personalities being any different without overcrowding the tightknit story, but I still wanted more. When the enemy is gone and life becomes soft and warm, I found myself struggling to know who Jun and Keema might become.
Their relationship is also a complex one. Both fighters, both driven by a need to succeed, they come together as two people who have similar goals and similar mindsets, yet vast depths of trauma and caution of others. Despite being on the same team, Jun and Keema fight constantly—physically. Everyday, they brawl, emerging first as a way to survive, then as a way to conclude conflicting ideals, and soon, evolves as a way to be close to one another, a ritual they now need to complete. Though I said their characters were missing depth in one area, you can tell they themselves haven’t allowed any joy for life to grow. They can only connect with each other by fighting. Struggling with self-worth is something they share, so turning to physical prowess is a natural way for them to feel strong and to show who they are. I found this detail to their relationship fun—even if they are aggressive with each other, you can see the depth to what it means. Two men, LGBT+, finding an equal and using their greatest skill as a way to show their heated emotions, was a unique take on a fantasy novel’s leading characters.
I also do want to highlight Keema. This is a rare example of a well written disable character, having his arm removed, in a fantasy story. Jimenez does a fantasy job at caring about Keema. While side and background characters cast their own negative opinions on his disability (especially with its significance in this world), Jimenez doesn’t let his missing arm slow his progress. Throughout, Keema shows his strength, never letting his missing arm stop him. He fights well, he works hard, and there is never a moment in the story where his disability appears as a burden to him or a plot point to cause tension. I always had the knowledge of his disability in mind, yet it never made me think of him as weak. Next to Jun, a trained guard, they are equal in power. It makes sense that Keema is angry and quick to join a fight—his lack of arm causes others to look down upon him, and he wants nothing more than to prove his strength. The Spear Cuts Through Water does a perfect job at showing the full range of his abilities, that he can fight and survive side-by-side with and against able-bodied characters with only one arm to wield a sword or throw a punch.
The Spear Cuts Through Water is a masterpiece of creative exploration. A golden lesson on the range the written form can accommodate. This is a novel not to be missed for any writer wanting to play around with their narratives and formatting. Professional advice warns to be wary of shifting perspectives mid-sentence, or leaping between tenses without a paragraph break, but Jimenez has flawlessly showed how breaking the rules can only amplify world building. You won’t be reading this book—you will be living it.
I had such a joy reading The Spear Cuts Through Water, and even months after finishing it, the gorgeous writing surfaces in my mind and makes me giddy with the magic writing can accomplish.
Themes: fantasy, epic adventure, magic, gods, deep world building, LGBT+ characters, disabled characters
Trigger warnings: violence, cannibalism, death, ableism, torture, sexual content and minor sexual assault
The Spear Cuts Through Water, Simon Jimenez, 2024 ed.
