Not so fun anymore

My third read for the year left me wanting. Trese Volume 6, the Philippine graphic novel by Budgette Tan and Kajo Baldisimo arrived with much anticipation. I kept hearing that bookstores have run out of stock. So when I saw several copies in an out-of-the-way bookstore, I didn't think twice about getting it.

Yes, every time there's a new Trese volume, it's a major publishing event here in the Philippines. There hasn't been a local graphic novel that has sparked the interest and captured the imagination lately. Who wouldn't love a graphic novel that delves heavily in Philippine mythology and has elements of horror, action, and mystery?

Think Jim Butcher's The Dresden Files. Trese, a detective who comes from a very mysterious family, specializes in solving crimes of supernatural origins. All the tropes of a police procedural are here: Trese's close relationship with the local police force, the noir atmosphere, the couple of sidekicks who inject humor, red herrings, smoking guns.

Read this in the dead of night hoping it would be scary.
Huge disappoint, that was.

Yet somehow, when I read this latest installment, I didn't feel the same sense of wonder that I did when I finished the first three volumes. Gone were the horror, the fascination with seeing local monsters on the page, and the thrill of having discovered the perpetrators. The overall effect was just cheesy, to say the least.

And the characters . . . Trese still is the same Trese when you met her in the first volume. The Kambal, Trese's sidekicks, are still goofballs. The villains are cookie cutter creations that show no other emotions except the desire to wreak havoc in the city. Everything feels superfluous. I would've been happier rereading the early installments.

Baldisimo's illustrations are still superb though. I would've wanted Tan to make full use of the panels in developing the narrative. However, the dialogue felt "talky," as if the author felt the need to explain everything and not let the panels tell the story. The conversations also seemed unnatural and formal-ish. Trese is the kind of work that needs street-smart language, which unfortunately was severely lacking in this volume.

One good thing to come out of the sixth volume is that we do discover more details about Trese's family (her father and her siblings) and several other supernatural characters that are allied to Trese and her family. But this aspect still feels derivative. I kept expecting someone to just blurt out, "Avengers, assemble!"

I'm not so sure if I'd read the succeeding installments anymore. I've friends who are huge fans of the Trese series, and I hope that they persevere. Who knows, maybe the 7th, 8th, and nth volumes would be better.

Read this book if:

1. You're curious about Philippine mythology.
2. You like police procedurals, murder mysteries, noir, and crime fiction.
3. You're a completist.

Checking out a local bestseller

This weekend, I decided to go local with my reading. Considering that stories originally published in Wattpad are all the rave, I checked out the grandmama of them—Bianca Bernardino's She's Dating the Gangster. Bernardino's online novel has found its way to print, and I've heard that it's even going to be adapted to the big screen. So I'm curious.

My curiosity eventually becomes a huge disappointment as I turned the final page. I had high hopes for She's Dating the Gangster. But it's confusing, infuriating, frustrating, and tiring. Is this what young people these days are reading? Shallow drivel. If this novel began the trend of new adult novels in the country, then I shiver at the thought of reading the countless stories it has spawned.

Bernardino's novel starts interestingly enough. Kenji, the high school heartthrob, missends a text message to Athena, who he thinks is his ex-girlfriend, who is also named Athena. The ex is later called Abigail, probably to avoid confusion. I think that the ex can be called anything, as she has absolutely no character at all. It would even have helped it she'd have been nameless. (I think the same is true for the supporting characters. They're cookie cutter characters without any distinct voice.)

Anyway, Kenji is hellbent on getting back with Abigail, so he strikes a deal with Athena. All Athena has to do is to pretend that she's now Kenji's girlfriend. Hopefully, Abigail will see them all lovey-dovey and become jealous. (Yes, the novel somehow makes you think that jealousy leads to exes getting back. Warped thinking, if I may say.)

All the clichés are here. Good girl eventually falls for the bad boy. Female character gets sick and dies, but not before male character proposes marriage. Video footage being played that shows the dead character's stupid message to the one left behind. Screaming, lovesick teenage girls squeal a lot and defend the high school gangster. This is so unintentionally funny because they would even gang up on the girl they're jealous of.

I find no redeeming quality to She's Dating a Gangster. There's a pretentious allusion to Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet," but it just leads to even more stupidity. When Athena dies and leaves Kenji still a mess (even if one year has already passed), Kenji decides to take his own life by swallowing pills. By dying, he thinks that Athena and he will never be apart anymore. Whatever.  I'd rather have a root canal than read this pointless story again.

I'm glad that more and more people are reading though. And that a lot of them are coming up with stories that other people read. I only hope that these readers develop a hunger, a craving for something more satisfying. And that our local writers recognize this craving and answer it by telling stories with more substance.

Read this novel if:

1. This is the last book on earth.
2. You have no qualms about two sweethearts calling each other Sexylove and Lovebabe.
3. Oh, don't bother.

The Rosales Saga Book #2: Tree

When your book club has a read-along, you do your best to catch up with. No questions. Never mind that you missed out on the discussion of the first book. There are still 4 more books anyway. And that's what happened to me when the book club decided to do a read-along of F. Sionil's José's 5-novel historical epic called "The Rosales Saga." Work kept me from participating initially, but I couldn't pass this up. It was just this weekend that I got to read the 2nd book in the saga. No worries though. Fortunately, the books are stand-alone works.

So, the 2nd book—Tree. A lot of things struck me as I finished the book. First is what I would call texture. Sionil José's description of setting is so detailed that you feel you're right at the center of events. Aside from the nuances of the place, there's a certain lyrical quality to the writing even when he simply describes the places the unnamed narrator goes to. Lots of atmosphere, vivid on the details, a keen eye even for the mundane and the prosaic.

As the rains subsided and the fields turned green, the mud settled and the river  acquired a clear, green hue. It would no longer be swift and it flowed with a rhythm, broken by small ripples in the shallows. It was at this time that we bathed in it and dove to its depths to discover what secrets it held. Now, too, the women took their washing to the banks and they would squat before wide tin basins, and whack at clothes with wooden paddles.

Another is how episodic the chapters seem to be. The book is really a coming-of-age tale of a boy, whose privileged family play a huge role among the townsfolk of a small town in Ilocos. Mostly, it is about the unravelling of the boy's relationship with his father, a powerful person under the employ of one Don Vicente. As a character, Don Vicente appears briefly in the novel, but his influence can be felt looming on every page. It's as if I were reading a local version of The Godfather, with Don Vicente as the head of the mafiosi and the boy's father, Espiridion, as his consiglieri. Espiridion is a character difficult to like. He has his fingers on all the comings and goings in town. Hardened, ruthless, with very few soft spots.

The chapters can indeed be likened to individual episodes. In one chapter, we read about a travelling circus who visits the town. In another, the unplanned marriage of two relatives who find themselves spending the summer in the house of Espiridion. In one chapter, there's an anecdote about a relative who finds out that the townsfolk have been cheated of their land and is determined to set things right. And in other chapters, we discover the unfortunate lives of the family's household help. A lot of these episodes don't end well. The righteous man commits suicide, the star of the circus show has an accident and never performs again, the help die from poverty. And the boy? He doesn't really come to terms with his father.

The book's spirit is not really an upper. Tree is a sad read. It shows you that the poor want for justice, and that a small impoverished town so far removed from the nation's capital can appear chaotic despite its calm veneer. The town may be picturesque, based on our unnamed narrator's eye, but it's rotten to the core. Peel the eggshell and what you get are centuries-old problems brought about by the corrupt feudal system of our colonists. And what stinks really bad is that these problems are no longer being wrought by white people but by the very same brown-skinned Filipino who doesn't think twice about making life bitter for his fellow citizen.

One closes Tree with a feeling of unease. Our ancestors never had an easy life. It was even more difficult during wartime. But what makes it even more uncomfortable is that a small town, without even knowing it, is waging its own war. The rich prey among the poor. The poor futilely fighting back and eventually accepting their sad circumstance. It's one picture that's very painful to see—people swimming upstream against forces of history, of terrible human nature, of the cruel fates, only to be swept away by the current, helpless, quietly sobbing, and eventually drowning.

Read this book if:

1. You have a thing for historical epics set in the 1940s.
2. You love unconventional coming-of-age stories.
3. You know that sad books can be beautiful reads.

Going local this month

Well, it looks like I would have to stay away from dead guys for the meantime. I have to make room for some local flavor in my reading plans in the next couple of weeks. Okay, I said to myself that I'll be reading only dead guys this year, but the books pictured above are book club picks. And I don't wanna stay mute during the book discussions because I wasn't able to read them.

Po-On is the first of the Rosales saga novels by F. Sionil Jose, one of the country's National Artist for Literature. The book club is reading all 5 Rosales saga novels in a read-along event. I'm not pretty sure if I like Po-On, as I've read just a few chapters so far. So I still haven't committed myself to the rest of the Rosales saga novels.

I was a kid during the 1986 People Power Revolution, an event wherein the Filipino people peacefully toppled the decades-long Marcos dictatorship. So I am naturally curious about EDSA Uno by Angela Stuart-Santiago. It's supposed to be a faithful account of the events leading up to the historic event and its aftermath. EDSA Uno is the book club's February book.

And our March book is a bit of an unconventional one. We're reading a screenplay of an acclaimed local film! Ricky Lee's Sa Puso ng Himala is a book that tells all about the making of the movie "Himala." It contains the full screenplay, interviews with the cast, behind-the-scenes stories, and other pieces by the screenwriter. A lot of people say that "Himala" was groundbreaking when it was first shown in 1982, and its influence can still be felt today.

I'll probably be back in the arms of dead guys by March. But for February, the month of love, I'll show my love for local books first. Happy reading! And Happy Valentine's Day in advance, dear readers! 

This felt very detached

I seldom write about books that I don't like or about those which leave no impression at all after reading them. What's the use of talking about these books, no? Besides, negativity is so wrinkle inducing.

But I feel that I need to say my piece about Cyan Abad-Jugo's book, Salingkit: A 1986 Diary. It's one of two books for discussion this month for the book club; I wouldn't want to railroad the discussion with my thoughts, if I want to get out of it alive.

For one, the main character, a girl in senior high school named Kitty Eugenio, is just ordinary, probably too ordinary for my taste. If I wanted ordinary, I wouldn't look for it in a book. I'll just talk to my nieces. They probably have more interesting things going on in their lives right now.

So this ordinary girl has ordinary friends, who seem to speak in one voice. Kit's friends are your cookie cutter lovesick and hormone-pumped teenagers. And the dialogue is very unnatural that I actually cringed in some parts. It's like a badly written episode from the Disney Channel.

It's too unfortunate that Kitty comes off as being ordinary as she is living in an extraordinary time. It's 1986, the year when the Philippines went through a peaceful revolution, forcing the dictatorial President Marcos into exile. But the book did include a story line about Kit finding herself smack in the middle of a coup d'état, while hoping to speak to a general who can probably help find her father. (You see, Kit's father, a political activist, has been missing for several years and is probably one of the thousands killed during the repressive regime of the Marcoses.) Unfortunately, that story line felt flat and went nowhere.

I think that another reason that I didn't take to the book is the music references. All the mentions of 80s music by bands such as Duran Duran and Depeche Mode are lost on me. I never liked DD and DM. I didn't care too much about their trippy music and how their many songs feel and sound the same. But the 80s gave us U2 and R.E.M., and for that I will be forever grateful to this decade. (Michael Stipe is a god.)

I'll probably just keep mum during the book discussion. I was told that there would be cake. And my copy of Marcel Proust's Swann's Way is begging for my attention.

Read this book if:

1. 80s music is your thing. Big hair! Shoulder pads! Metallic accessories!
2. Fictional memoirs are your thing.
3. Cassette tapes were your thing.

Rereading the great Philippine novel

Rereading the "great Philippine novel" this month

So it's finally come to the last book for the year for the book club. And this month, it's José Rizal's Noli Me Tangere (Touch Me Not).

A lot has been said about this novel written by the national hero of the Philippines. How it sparked the Philippine revolution, how it has become the great Philippine novel, why is has found itself in the high school curriculum in the country and thus has become required reading.

Perhaps it's the concept of the book being required reading that made it a very unenjoyable reading experience more than 20 years ago in high school. I recall memorizing all those details about the characters: their full names, their roles, what they symbolize. Tedious and boring stuff, I tell you.

I never did get into the novel, despite having finished it and all its non-relevant details. I found it too political, too serious for itself, and too symbolic. It's lengthy too, with my current trade paperback copy at more than 420 pages.

Nevertheless, I'm determined to still give it another go. Perhaps this time time, I'd find some gems in Rizal's opus. Maybe reading Noli Me Tangere solely for its literary value would elicit an appreciation for it, or maybe that would just heighten my disdain for it. We will see, dear readers.

So now we're saying good-bye to 2012, and it's been a good year as well for the book club. The books we chose this year were our most eclectic mix yet. We've read not just "literary" novels but also graphic fiction, short stories, fantasy, food and travel essays, young adult, and nonfiction.

One more book to go, and then we're saying hello to 2013.

The books chosen for discussion for 2012
by Flips Flipping Pages
(Click to enlarge.)

Going loco over this local detective novel

I keep hearing the fact that there are no serial killers in the Philippines. "It's just not in our nature," my fellow Filipinos would say. But here's the thing: perhaps we just don't have enough data, and people haven't made the connections among the murders to conclude that there are indeed serial killers here in the country. Of course, I would like to believe there aren't any, but I'm open to the idea that I could be wrong.

In F. H. Batacan's novel Smaller and Smaller Circles, the premise is that a serial killer is preying on 12- to 13-year-old boys residing in a notorious dumpsite, and that the killings happen every 1st Saturday of the month. As if the thought isn't chilling enough, the bodies are found with their faces, genitals, and hearts missing. None of the boys though appear to have been sexually abused.

There are some elements in Batacan's work that makes it an unconventional detective novel. The detectives are 2 Jesuit priests, who really are very streetsmart despite having come from upper class families. The dynamic between these two men of the cloth is something we've seen before though. The older one was the former teacher of the younger. One is refined and reserved, and the other a bit brash and outspoken. But their partnership works. Batacan didn't litter her chapters with overboard scenes on how these two different personalities complement one another.

Another thing that makes this unconventional is the setting, which is a locale in a third world country with hardly any high-tech forensic equipment. The novel really becomes centered on the abilities of the two lovable Jesuits, who somehow discover the identity of the killer nowhere near the end of the novel. The last few chapters of Smaller and Smaller Circles deal with the eventual capture of the killer, which I think is a bit anticlimatic. I was hoping for a twist though, something along the lines of the movie 'The Silence of the Lambs', but it wasn't meant to be.

Batacan's award-winning novel was published 10 years ago, and I feel a small tinge of guilt for not having heard of it before. Thank goodness that one of the book clubs featured this short novel last weekend during the ReaderCon. I just had to get a copy after hearing good things about it.

Read this book if:

1. You like your detective novels unconventional.
2. You'll read anything that's won a Palanca.
3. You're a sucker for word-of-mouth publicity.

Awesome magazine is awesome

Last Saturday, I went to the Summer Komikon 2012 hoping to catch cosplayers and to get my copy of a magazine that was to be launched that same day. Too bad about the absence of cosplayers, they're always an interesting lot. I did get a copy of the magazine though, and I'm sure glad I did.

There has never been a local magazine devoted to YA fiction in the SF and fantasy genres. (Which is a bit weird really, as most of the books that sell in our bookstores belong to this genre.) Kwentillion aims to change that, as it features YA graphic fiction, short stories, interviews of graphic novelists, a few artworks of up and coming graphic artists, and a lineup of YA fiction in 2012.

I'm a bit surprised that it's selling for only Php 150 (around $3.50), considering the extent, the quality of the paper, and the full-color pages in the middle. But this is good, right? This means that teenagers need not shell out a significant fraction of their allowance to get a copy. It's basically almost the same price as a venti mocha frappuccino.

I feel that the strength of Kwentillion lies in the graphic fiction that appears on its pages. For the maiden issue, it featured a story steeped in Philippine mythology by Budjette Tan and Kajo Baldisimo (the team behind the popular Trese series), the weirdly funny 'Poso Maximo' by Robert Magnuson, the wonderfully steampunk-ish 'High Society' by Paolo Chikiamco, and the space opera (space operatic?) themed 'Sky Gypsies' by Timothy Dimacali and John Bumanglag. For these stories alone, the magazine's price is totally worth it.

Of course, being in the book publishing industry for some years now, I'm particular about the layout of printed work. Some of the sections in the magazine have very few 'resting spaces' for one's eyes, such as the short story by Andrew Drilon entitled 'The Secret Origin of Spin-Man', the only non-graphic work of fiction in the magazine. I'm apprehensive if young adults would take the time to read it, since it does appear to be lengthy and text heavy, something which is all the more ubiquitous in a magazine that has lots and lots of visually stimulating panels of graphic fiction. The layout of the interviews featuring Manix Abrera and Chester Ocampo could use more write areas too.

Also, there seems to be a dearth of local YA non-graphic fiction available in bookstores. The magazine did feature a lineup of highly anticipated YA fiction to be released this year. The writers chose 11 titles, but only 1 is local. Maybe Kwentillion would change all this. It's the perfect time for publishers to tap local talent to come up with genre novels for this market.

It's an exciting time for YA fiction. We have the talent and ingenuity to succeed in this genre. Kwentillion makes us aware of this potential. Thumbing through its pages and seeing the artworks, I am amazed by the artistry of individuals, some just barely out of college. I have a huge admiration for this kind of talent, as I can't even draw stick figures.

Oh, one other thing. Perhaps Kwentillion can be less testosterone-y in the next issue? The short story and the graphic fiction all had male writers and artists. Must female writers be delegated to produce the feature articles only?

But hey, this is just the first issue. I'm sure that Kwentillion will just get more awesome with each issue. Kudos to Paolo Chikiamco, Budjette Tan, and their team for coming up with this magazine. Now I'm off to get my subscription!

Addendum (made after Paolo Chikiamco's comment):
There's a single female involved in the graphic fiction featured in Kwentillion -- the uber talented Hannah Buena. My apologies if I missed this in my original post.

This sequel lacks the oomph of the first

Fans of Carlo Vergara's graphic novel, Ang Kagila-gilalas na Pakikipagsapalaran ni Zsazsa Zaturnnah, must be eagerly anticipating the sequel, the first part of which has just been released in the metro last week. Everyone loved Vergara's protagonist -- a nelly-ish gay guy who transforms into a Wonder Woman type of superhero named Zsazsa Zaturnnah. The first compilation was très enjoyable to say the least.

The sequel though, specifically the first of a planned three volumes, seems like an afterthought. Reading Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila feels like eating tofu after fasting for a long time -- it just doesn't satisfy you. For one, it's not as campy as the first. Yes, there are loads of gay lingo scattered throughout the dialogue, but these lines feel a bit contrived. They don't add to the humor at all; there are no LOL moments, just sniggers here and there if you do get the pop culture references.

Also, as a graphic novel, the sequel can get too talky in my opinion. I expect graphic novels to use the illustrations to tell the story. The long lines of text just draw the reader's eyes away from the drawings. Just look at the spread below to see what I mean.


Vergara has also introduced characters into the now diluted and uninteresting narrative. We're now acquainted with a superhero with bulging body parts here and there. Vergara is teasing us with this character. How could this mass of testosterone figure in the next 2 installments? What could possibly be the outcome of a partnership between him and Zaturnnah? Of course, the reader is made to wonder as to his alter ego.


Vergara's illustrations are still beautiful though. They're just as detailed and clean as the original. It's worth shelling out a few bucks just for the illustrations, which I think unfortunately is one of the very, very few reasons to get this graphic novel.


Oh well, here's hoping that the 2nd and 3rd installments improve on this volume. Bring back the fun, camp, and one liners please!

Read this book if:

1. You love graphic novels with a bit of camp.
2. You're comfortable with gay lingo.
3. You love graphic novels in series.
   

Confessions of a Filipino book blogger

Poke a stick right through me, roast me, and I'm done. I must admit that I'm way behind on my Philippine literature reading. If it weren't for the book club, I wouldn't have gotten to read works by Filipino writers.

Oh, the humanity! How dare do I call myself a Filipino blogger when the total Philippine works of fiction that I've reviewed on my blog can be counted by one hand! The shame of it all!

But maybe there's hope for me yet. After all, one of my favorite authors is a Filipino -- our national artist for literature, Nick Joaquin. Who wouldn't love a guy who's always seen holding a bottle of beer and being, ummmm, just a little bit wasted every waking moment. He's such a dearie. Maybe the secret to having that talent in writing is alcohol, and loads of it.


To say that Nick Joaquin's works are eclectic would be an understatement. He's written fiction for both young adults and adults, works of journalism, and even drama. For those who haven't even read or seen the play "Portrait of the Artist as Filipino," then you're missing out on a lot of good drama. My favorite works of young adult are still those written by NJ -- Pop Stories for Groovy Kids, which are retellings of well-known fairy tales.

So maybe it's high time I somehow become less of an anglophile and sample more works by Philippine writers. For a country known to be a nation of short story writers, perhaps the renewed interest in Philippine fiction would encourage Filipinos to write more novels. Now that's something to look forward to.

And hey, I'm attending the event below at this year's Manila International Book Fair. I hope to see you there!

This post has been made in line with the Filipino Fridays meme hosted by the organizers of the event. Check out other posts here.

Getting a good dose of speculative fiction

If it weren't for Honey's wonderful decision to have Philippine Speculative Fiction 6 as the book of the month for August, I wouldn't even have bothered to pick this up. Good thing she did, for this turned out to be a very satisfying read, especially since I've been craving for fantasy and science fiction lately.

Now speculative fiction isn't just about sci-fi and fantasy, mind you. According to Honey, it can be any of the following genres:

• Alternate History
• Apocalypse/Holocaust
• Coming of Age (as a species)
• Contemporary Fantasy
• Cyberpunk
• Dystopian
• Fairy Tales
• Fantasy
• First Contact
• Horror/Dark Fantasy
• Magical Realism
• Science Fiction
• Slipstream
• Steampunk

Speculative fiction does appear to cover a broad spectrum, no? Except for slipstream (which I have yet to Google), I think I've read at least one fictional work for each of the sub-genres mentioned above. But it's my first time to read any of these within a Philippine context.

I would have to agree that almost all of these stories have a strong Filipino element, whether evident in the use of the language, the setting, the history, and the characters. The first story, "The Big Man" is wonderful in a very unconventional way. It presents a fictionalized account of an outstanding basketball player who might be, for all intents and purposes, be a character in Philippine folklore called the kapre. For a short story, it's quite lengthy, but the personal history that the writer has come up with is rich in detail.

My favorite story, however, is "The Grim Malkin" for it does not take itself too seriously. Compared with "The Big Man" which has a very pedantic feel to it, "The Grim Malkin" is pure geekiness. It's about a mismatched couple who go on a quest and manage to resurrect a cat-like entity who makes it clear that it's no big deal if it kills the couple. It's high fantasy on drugs. The banter between the cat and the man and woman is so humorous it begs for canned laughter.

Other notable stories (IMHO) are "Alternative Histories," "Ashland," and "On Wooden Wings." "Alternative Histories" is presented as a series of tweets from personalities in Philippine history if they had accessed to that social networking site. "Ashland" is marvelous in the writer's portrayal of a world so gray and silent. "On Wooden Wings" can be categorized as cross-over, for it works for both adult and young adult readers. And it's setting is a place where writers in this genre seldom touch on -- the Philippines' Islamic provinces.

I have yet to read the first 5 volumes of this series. But if they're just a fraction as good as the 6th volume, then I know I'll be happy. It's just too bad that the publishers only printed a few hundred copies of PSF 6, and that the earlier volumes are out of print. More people should read these.

Read this book if:

1. You're into speculative fiction.
2. You love suspending disbelief.
3. You're curious how Filipino writers would write in this genre.

Local flavor

We always love it whenever the books we read feature local stuff -- folklore, familiar places, and local personalities. Trese, the series of graphic novels by Budjette Tan and KaJO Baldisimo, is a must-read for lovers of Philippine folklore and mythology. The graphic novels work on the premise that, underneath the crazy happenings in Manila, there exists an underworld populated by monsters, ghosts, elementals, and sorcerers, just to name a few.

Trese (literally meaning "13") features Alexandra Trese, a young woman whose services are sought after by the local police whenever they encounter weird cases. Yes, think "X-Files," but the police in the novels are more open to paranormal involvement in the crimes. Each chapter in the graphic novel deals with a particular case, which Alexandra Trese solves with the help of her alliances in the paranormal underworld.

I doubt whether foreign readers who're not that familiar with Philippine culture would truly appreciate the level of complexity of these graphic novels. Tan and Baldisimo rarely provide context to the characters and the scenario, assuming that readers know what they are alluding to. In a way, this is a downside of the graphic novels. Philippine folklore and mythology is rich in unique characters which will truly fascinate the non-Filipino reader. We have the tiyanaks, which are the souls of aborted fetuses; the tikbalangs, half-horse and half-man beings; aswangs, our local grotesque vampires who incidentally don't sparkle in the sun.

Some of the dialogue in Trese can be a bit cheesy and contrived. I guess the creators did not really focus on the language but on the storylines of each chapter. Trese's chapters have an uneven feel to them. Some chapters are just brilliant, engaging, and full of suspense; others lack depth and make you feel that they're simply fillers.

The illustrations, while beautifully rendered, can certainly use more detail. Some of the panels don't really propel the story with their odd perspectives and the ineffective use of the black-and-white contrast. Also, there aren't that much nuances in the way some characters are drawn; most of the supporting characters appear similar with one another. Alexandra also appears to have an androgynous quality sometimes.

Still, the Trese graphic novels are enjoyable. They're perfect reads during lunch, while on the bus, or just about any time when you have a few minutes to spare. And like most novels that make up a series, the first one (Trese: Murder on Balete Drive) is the best one.

Read Trese if:

1. You're fascinated with Philippine folklore.
2. You're fed up reading about beautiful and perfect vampires.
3. You love gore.