This book is the equivalent of some guy I met at some camp being a storyteller and telling his story by the fire pit, he’s waving his hands around, the fire light is dancing on his skin: it’s energetic, animated and he’s oh so proud (annoyingly, rightfully so).

The spear cuts through water is a book I really struggled with, and I had trouble voicing why. After 25%, I was just continuously slightly annoyed. In my head I accused it of being pretentious. That’s not an entirely fair way to describe it though: it genuinely is an impressive story, build with skill and (obvious) passion. It’s not pretending at all. Now, I’d say that TSCTW is mostly like a peacock: it’s boasting and beautiful all at once. It is decidedly male.

There’s a continuous stream of action- it tries to amaze your senses in every page (it often succeeds). There’s softness there too, hidden in-between all the violence and extremity, but it just wasn’t enough softness for me. It is whimsical only in a harsh and terrible, shadowless way. Everything felt like a spectacle. The violence and intensity of the story was gripping, like the sun upon my skin I felt myself warming to this book- and then burning. In a way to me it feels like TSCTW is projecting its story, it is a story you watch- maybe with a VR headset.

I hated it, it’s unforgettable (I am still blistering from the burn). It’s an intense spectacle, and as reluctant as I am to admit it:

It was really good.

(Suggested similar read that’s decidedly female: Mad sisters of Esi, Tashan Mehta).