Water Moon, Samantha Sotto Yambao
Samantha Sotto Yambao describes her UK debut novel, Water Moon, as “dreaming while you are awake” - a sentiment that perfectly encapsulates its immersive, otherworldly quality that electrifies every sentence. Marketed as Erin Morgenstern meets Studio Ghibli’s Spirited Away, the novel combines the wistful lyricism of contemporary Japanese romantic fiction with the sharper, more intricate edges of modern phantasmagorical storytelling, whisking the reader away on a journey unlike any other.
Echoing the atmospheric enchantment of The Night Circus and the richly textured world-building of Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, Water Moon is both a compelling mystery and a love story. Drenched in magical realism, its prose shimmers with a quiet, spellbinding power, carried by deeply human themes of longing, connection, regret, and second chances. These red (or golden!) threads deliver a narrative that bends the imagination in the best possible way.
Our protagonist, Hana Ishikawa, is both the keeper and the subject of an existential dilemma. Having inherited her father’s mysterious pawnshop, hidden within a humble ramen restaurant tucked away down a Tokyo alley, Hana finds herself at the helm of an enterprise that does not deal in mere objects, but in regrets. This pawnshop has a unique ability; here, the desperate and the broken come to relinquish their most agonising decisions in exchange for the promise of something new. Yet when Hana awakes one morning to find the pawnshop ransacked, its most precious acquisition stolen and her father missing, she is thrust into a journey of self-discovery, tested by the very nature of her past and forced to confront the choices she never realised she had already made.
Water Moon is, quite simply, luminous. Yambao draws from Japanese folklore and anchors the plot at a crossroads between fantasy, philosophy, and domestic thriller. Nourished by a careful interplay between fate and free will, we are gifted a story that is both intimate and wildly expansive, not only in world-building and in timeline but also in emotion. The inescapable and relatable pull between the past and the uncertain promise of the future is something, I’m sure, we have all felt. Because of this, you might expect a complex plot at risk of being pulled in too many directions. This isn’t the case. Yamboa is both careful and intelligent with her writing. She balances typical fantasy immersion with accessible storytelling, ensuring we are just as deeply invested in the world-building as the characters are. Yes, it’s sometimes labyrinthine, but it's never an intimidating read.
With the help of a stranger - a charming yet enigmatic young physicist from our reality - Hana embarks on a journey that defies the ordinary. Their search leads them through liminal spaces - the ‘in-between’ - where the ordinary rules of reality are suspended;rain puddles serve as portals, night markets float in the clouds, a library shelters lost things, and a vibrant spectral bridge rests between midnight and morning. These wondrous (and often unsettling) realms are depicted with a near-perfect rhythm supported by prose that flickers with a wistful magic. The result is a novel that feels like an incantation, lulling us into its dreamlike, shifting landscapes.
Yambao is a writer deeply attuned to the philosophical. For example, Water Moon explores the notion of self-fulfilling prophecy. Yamboa pointedly spotlights difficult questions about fate, destiny, and pre-destined paths already written for us. Hana reflects, “... all fools give up good things. We look at our hands and wonder what we could hold if they were empty.” Would we truly rewrite our regrets if given the chance? Or is pain an essential part of who we become? The pawnshop’s ability to erase choices is an alluring, almost mythical proposition, and Yambao skillfully investigates its dystopian dangers if such power existed.
Hana’s internal struggle mirrors the broader existential themes. She is torn between the life she has built and the one she thought she knew. Her journey is as much about uncovering the truth behind her father’s disappearance as it is about understanding herself. Yambao crafts Hana with depth, delivering a strong, fully realised character rather than as a vehicle for philosophical musings. Hana is neither entirely passive nor recklessly impulsive with her decision-making and exists as a woman shaped by forces beyond her control, struggling to reclaim her agency. She openly critiques the very ideology of the pawnshop, a place she knows intimately and calls home. She wrestles with her moral code, questions her parents’ decisions, and challenges whether fate can be rewritten. It leaves us wondering: what regret would Hana herself exchange for ignorant bliss?
Yamboa examines the tension between the pre-destined and autonomy, a common theme found in Japanese folklore and cultural tradition. The notion of a predetermined path - etched by ancestral choices and karmic balance - clashes with the pawnshop’s promise of revision and deletion. Yambao does not provide easy answers or moralise the right to self-determination versus erasure. “We can theorise all we want about bending space and time, but we cannot change the past,” she writes. Instead, she presents a paradox, allowing us to sit with this complexity and offering space to draw our own conclusions. “Scars don’t make you any less than what you are. They are simply stories.”
The structure of Water Moon mirrors its thematic concerns. The narrative ebbs and flows - sometimes calm and meandering, other times rapid and urgent. This musicality enhances the novel’s dreamlike quality but may prove challenging for those expecting a more traditional plot progression. While the mystery of Hana’s missing father serves as the primary narrative engine, it often takes a backseat to the introspective and allegorical elements. Those who prefer tightly plotted thrillers may find themselves adrift in the novel’s more contemplative passages. However, for those willing to surrender to its cadence, Water Moon offers an experience that is poetic and deeply affecting.
Water Moon is a novel that defies easy categorisation, existing in the liminal spaces between fable, literary fiction, fantasy and philosophical meditation. Those who enjoy introspective narratives like Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi will appreciate its gentler side, while romantasy readers will find joy in the subtle, intimate elements.
Yambao delivers a story not just about lost choices, but about the weight of memory and the truth that the past, no matter how deeply buried, is never truly gone. It also reminds us that the most magical stories sometimes help us see our world in a new light. Most of all, Moon Water is a love story - familial, romantic, and platonic - anchored in the human need for connection in all its rawest forms.
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