Water Moon

At its core, Water Moon by Samantha Sotto Yambao is a story about choices, fate, and the lingering shadows of the past. It follows Hana, a pawnshop owner, who lives a life burdened by the unanswered questions surrounding her father who disappeared and the circumstances surrounding her mother's death. When Kei unexpectedly stumbles into her life, he promises to help her uncover the truth. Together, they navigate a world where the boundaries between destiny and free will blur, uncovering truths about themselves, the price of rewriting one’s past, and the cost of paving a new future.

I went into Water Moon expecting magical realism, lured by its promises of subtle, transformative magic intertwined with the mundane. What I found was something else —an urban fantasy dressed in magical realism’s clothes, occasionally flirting with its depth but never fully committing.

The novel starts strong, with evocative prose and intriguing world-building that hints at layered meanings. The opening chapters had me hooked, setting up a story that felt like it might deliver on the atmospheric, introspective magic I was hoping for. But as the pages turned, my excitement waned. The middle dragged, filled with fascinating ideas that were dangled like shiny objects but never fully explored or realized. By the time I reached the end, I felt a lingering sense of "what could have been." The conclusion wasn’t bad by any means, but it left me wishing for a deeper, more resonant payoff.

The book is sprinkled with lines that ache with potential: "Time has no borders except those people make," and "Losing your way is oftentimes the only way to find something you did not know you were looking for." These quotes capture the essence of what the story could have been—a meditation on choice, fate, and the invisible lines we draw around our lives. But instead of leaning into these philosophical undercurrents, the narrative often defaults to more conventional urban fantasy tropes.

One of the most compelling elements is the concept of the pawnshop of choices and the Shiikuin. The idea of trading choices and the consequences of those trades could have been a powerful metaphor for agency and regret. Instead, it feels like a missed opportunity, wrapped up in plot mechanics rather than thematic exploration. The book teases big questions about fate and freedom but shies away from delving into them with the depth they deserve.

The dynamic between Hana and Kei hints at complexity but ultimately plays it safe. Their relationship takes center stage a bit too often, and they fall for each other with unrealistic speed. Their interactions could have benefited from more tension and ambiguity, as the narrative opts for a straightforward path rather than exploring darker, more intricate twists.

Despite its shortcomings, Water Moon isn’t without merit. The writing is beautiful in places, and certain passages resonate deeply: "She was the moon in the water, close enough to touch, yet beyond reach," "Death is kind and swift. Longing is a life sentence," and "...life is about joy in the space between where you came from and where you are going..."These moments of lyrical introspection hint at the book's potential, even if they ultimately highlight its failure to fully realize it.

In the end, Water Moon is a story that feels like it’s constantly on the brink of something profound but never quite gets there. It’s the kind of book that makes you think, "Oh, I see where you’re going with this... but wouldn’t it be better if...?" I was looking for magical realism, but it turned out to be more of an urban fantasy with lyrical writing, leaving me more frustrated than fulfilled. But if you’re willing to accept it for what it is, there are moments of beauty worth savoring.