Roberto S. Jimenez’s The Mythologies of the Americas is a sprawling, imaginative trilogy that reimagines ancient mythologies through a wildly futuristic and metaphysical lens. It blends legends, gods, interdimensional travel, and bedtime story warmth into a series of tales that center around gods like Razielle, the Three Fates, and the goddess Dharma. The stories are presented as part sci-fi odyssey, part mythic folklore, and part bedtime storytelling, complete with gentle closings like “a hug and a kiss, then soft footsteps walking away, then darkness.” It’s a mythological epic wrapped in the language of childhood wonder.

The writing style is surreal, even dreamlike. At times, it felt like I was reading an ancient scroll written by a cosmic bard who had just discovered a spaceship. Take “The Legend of Bi-Frost,” you’ve got a dying warrior being turned into a techno-robot guardian of the Rainbow Bridge by Razielle, the god of the Afterlife. It’s emotional, cinematic, and oddly tender. That moment when Razielle kneels before the fallen Bi-Frost and weeps, causing time itself to come to a halt, struck me deeply. The emotional stakes are often high, even if the delivery is otherworldly.

There’s a lot of repetition phrases like “the god of the Afterlife” and “spirit energy” appear constantly. The prose loves its asterisks, dramatic ellipses, and long, breathless sentences. I honestly had to pause sometimes and just let the phrases wash over me without trying to analyze them. But weirdly enough, that worked. Once I gave up trying to read this like a regular book and let it hit me like a stream of mythic consciousness, it clicked. In “The Heart of Darkness,” the high-concept ideas, like extracting “piezzo-electric data” from obelisks and the philosophical exploration of faster-than-light dimensions—become almost poetic. It’s wild and chaotic but in the best sci-fi-fantasy-pulp kind of way.

What I really loved, though, were the emotional moments and the childlike sincerity that lives under the surface of all the starships and spirit gates. When Dharma, the goddess of Dark Matter, meets her children—the Three Fates—there’s this powerful blend of divine awe and good old-fashioned family reunion. “She looks like any other Dark Phantom to me,” Razielle says at one point, before discovering her hidden potential. And when the Fates grow up, and Razielle tells them they looked cuter as gargoyles? It made me smile. These moments remind you there’s real heart here. It’s a mythology built on love, legacy, and the idea that bedtime stories can still hold cosmic truths.

The Mythologies of the Americas is for readers who are open to something different—something raw, earnest, and unapologetically strange. If you’re into ancient myth reboots, cosmic family sagas, or bedtime stories with gods and robots, you’ll find a lot to love here. It’s messy and heartfelt and absolutely bananas in the best way. Just don’t try to make too much sense of it. Let it wash over you. You’ll dream better that way.

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