Reviewed by Stacia L. Brown

Nalo Hopkinson’s The New Moon’s Arms is a dreamy, semi-aquatic tale about the single, middleaged Calamity Lambkin and her exploits on the fictional Caribbean islands of Blessee, Dolorosse, and Cayaba.

Mystical things begin happening almost immediately as Calamity spends the night of her father’s funeral arguing with Gene, the man she’s brought home for…consolation purposes. They fight about a tree that has mysteriously appeared fully grown in Calamity’s yard. It isn’t just any tree that’s materialized, however. It’s the same one that used to be in that exact spot when she was a child. As we soon learn, Calamity (whose birth name was Chastity before she changed it) is reclaiming a childhood gift, some inexplicable ability to “find” lost things. And her gift is returning in full force, complete with treasures long-forgotten falling from the sky and an entire cashew grove that once belonged to her father, sprouting up on her property.

These reappearances seem to coincide with the onset of menopause and with a town tragedy: an injured toddler has washed ashore and Calamity’s the one who discovered him. Hours later two more bodies wash ashore, only these are dead. Assuming the dead bodies belong to the toddler’s parents, Calamity takes the boy, who she names Agway, into her care. He and his supposed parents are believed by some to be “sea people,” brown underwater dwellers of all ages who appear to a select and accepting few.

Hopkinson has created a rich cast of characters with idiosyncrasies and insecurities that are not only relatable but also sympathetic. For instance, when Agway arrives at the Lambkin household and begins to call Calamity “Mamma,” Calamity’s daughter, Ifeoma, feels the old hurt of her mother’s rejection, especially since Ife and her own young son, Stanley, are disallowed from calling their mother/grandmother anything other than Calamity. As a teenage parent, Calamity’s rearing of and relationship with Ifeoma started out strained and has remained so into adulthood.

If Calamity’s rebellion against typical matriarchal roles makes her complex and a bit prickly, her orneriness, potty mouth, homophobia, and grudge-holding threaten to make her an anti-hero. But before long, we realize that young Chastity’s transition into her adult alter ego, Calamity, has been slow and maybe even involuntary. With the mysterious disappearance of her mother during adolescence, the unanswered questions about her father’s possibly involvement with it in the wake of his death, and the hurt she’s still trying to navigate as the consequences of her teenage motherhood continue to reverberate decades later, we come to understand and accept her brasher qualities with the grace and nuance with which Hopkinson has presented them.

The New Moon’s Arms has layers aplenty and its bountiful mysteries and myths will keep you turning pages until you reach the last. The tale’s twists and turns are like the crashing sea waves that inspire it—overwhelming, memorable, and breathtaking.