The Philippine Online Chronicles

For the past four volumes, Philippine Speculative Fiction has been the measure of all things fantastic in the Philippine fiction scene. Although it doesn’t claim to collect the best stories of the year, it does provide us with a glimpse of the shape of things to come. That doesn’t mean it gets better every year though. While it’s good to see the old guard make way for new and younger writers, the pool seems to get muddled up as the definition of "speculative fiction," moreover of "Philippine Speculative Fiction," gets trampled upon now and then. It’s this whole "what if?" business that started it all, which leaves the definition vulnerable to comments that fiction in general addresses that question. In the fifth PSF volume, Nikki Alfar and co-editor Vincent Michael Simbulan try to establish a stronger ground, as evident as early as the introduction, where Alfar sets out to give her own definition of what speculative fiction truly is.

In the introduction, Alfar gives a rather strong prelude (or a warning) with regard to how the term "speculative fiction" is interpreted in this volume. While it thankfully dispels a lot of homegrown notions of speculative fiction, it also warrants a closer review. Alfar elaborates on their definition of speculative fiction as “fiction that explores the human condition as illuminated by the otherworldly” in its three segments, each focusing on a part of that sentence. Building on writer/editor Marion Zimmer Bradley’s words “stories are about people, not ideas,” Alfar explains, “I believe this should be as true of speculative fiction as it is of any other literary genre. Yes, spec fic not only embraces technology, magic, the supernatural and so on - yet the kind of spec fic I look for focuses not on these elements, but the effect such elements have on characters.” This creates a hole that gives way to inclusion of stories that are neither here nor there; stories that don’t really seem to have outright speculative fiction elements.

What I see here is a collision of genre and realist sensibilities, the whole "human condition" argument.  Is this an attempt to be relevant, as with social realist stories? While the stories in PSF5 may contain speculative fiction elements, they are entirely stories bent on exploring human emotion while immersed in varying situations.

Kate Aton-Osias’ "The Goodlyf" opens the anthology, a rather bleak science-fictional take on our second lives on the Internet gone terribly wrong. It’s an example of Alfar’s chosen type of spec fic, with its focus on how the ‘science fictional’ element of the story has affected the life of the protagonist. The disjointed storyline messes up your head for a little bit, but it doesn’t leave a lasting mark. This is usually my problem with anthologies: bland stories starting your reading experience.

Next we have Fidelis Angela Tan’s "Death and Noy." It uses the old encounter-with-Death plot trick, only this time we have a young child interrogating him. It’s pretty dark material for a protagonist as young as Noy. You see yourself in this picture, when your children (or future children) ask you about the nature of death. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to make a strong story. This felt like it could happen in a primetime teleserye.

Following Tan’s story is Isabel Yap’s heavy and dark "Sink." The story appears to follow the lines of Dark City’s implanted memories and A.I.’s robot boy, and is imbued with a discomforting dilemma. Again, this is a clear example of Alfar’s preferred spec fic story. Even though we’ve read the premise before--a mother grieving at the loss of her precious little boy--its subtle histrionics and shock approach work because of the unbearable sadness that cloaks the story.

Joseph Anthony Montecillo’s "New Toy" provides close connection to Yap’s gloomy tale. "New Toy" takes on the macabre, a young boy who sees almost everything as a toy, even his newborn brother. What’s more perplexing, apart from its creepy and shocking finale, is that this came from the imagination of a seventh-grade boy. The story leaves a bad taste in your mouth--not because it’s badly written--but because it’s a swift and disquieting tale about the imagination and violence.

After the sinister stories that open the book, Dominique Cimafranca’s "Leg Men" provides breathing space. The story delves into the aswang myth; a long derided and used up mythos of Filipino folklore. But "Leg Men" provides a fresh, and sometimes hilarious, side. The hunt for the aswang becomes a hunt for a prospective wife, complete with the typical Filipino mob and rivalry (with a dashing and popular town "hero").

Part-coming-of-age story and part old wives’ folk tale, Veronica Montes’ "The Left-Behind Girl" is a wonderful exposition into a town’s beguiling mysteries that echoes southern gothic sensibilities and thickly veiled dream states.  The story, however, is short and it leaves you wanting for more.

Then we come to the one of the anthology’s strongest stories: Rica Bolipata-Santos’ "Just Man," a grand concept reimagining of Joseph, one of the most overlooked characters in the Bible. ‘Just Man’ is not only sexually charged but it also speculates on the machineries of the relationship between the Holy Family. The story still discusses some of the themes in the Bible: self-sacrifice, courage and unconditional love, deftly touching on the intricacies of love and family life.

Andrew Drilon’s "A Game of Quam" is one of the strange stories that we encounter in the anthology. From the get-go, it seems like a normal urban angst story: a bored boy with a homoerotic relationship with his best friend… although there are subtle hints scattered throughout the story that make you rethink the real nature of the characters. The video game dynamics and the horror film discussion lend an even stranger vibe to the proceedings.

The quality of the stories stutters from here on. Just like any other anthology, we’d have to plow through lackluster stories to get to the really good ones. Timothy James Dimacali’s "Keeper of the Sky," a deity love story, doesn’t seem to take off mainly because the path it tries to take is already worn and beaten. The same applies to Charles Tan’s "A Yellow Brick Road Valentine" which echoes Neil Gaiman’s "Harlequin Valentine." It’s the usual unrequited love piece with a jaded hero, nothing new to see.

Sandwiched between these stories is Alexander Osias’ swashbuckler "Rogelio Batle and the Curse of the Crimson Court." It’s a full-blooded fantasy monster, filled with ancient races and their seemingly insatiable bloodlust. The premise is good--drenched in swathes of red and smelling of underground sewers desperately salvaged to look like royal courts, akin to that in Hellboy II: The Golden Army-- but the story stops too soon.

The horror genre is also well-represented in this anthology: Mia Tijam’s "Heart in the Flesh" plays with our minds while mired in the deep and sensual trappings of Let The Right One In; Raymond G. Falgui’s "A New Hospital," an ominous and disturbing piece that plumbs into a remote town’s shady politics and power plays, which might remind a reader of the recently released Inception; and Eliza Victoria and Christine Lao’s creature features "Monsters" and "The Creature," respectively.

Science fiction mostly occupies the last half of the anthology. It has always been one of the less explored genres of Filipinos and it’s encouraging to know that some writers are bravely mining its depths. Some of the well-written science fictional stories here are Paolo Chikiamco’s "Carbon," a throwback to the political and incendiary futures of Philip K. Dick and Robert Heinlein; and the Lovecraft-In-Space adventure "The Autochthonic War" by Joseph Nacino. Kenneth Yu’s "The Sparrows of Climaco Avenue" seems to be much like filler for the anthology: It’s constructed somehow like a news report and has pretty imageries but nothing spectacular ever happens.

Gabriella Lee’s "Eyes Wide as the Sky" explores the possibilities of harnessing the energy of the human spirit. But it’s too short to actually dig deep into the concept, which is rather perplexing. All we get is drama and sex. Nostalgia seems to pervade much of the story, as with quite a few Filipino science fiction stories, which don't seem to be forward looking.

Aileen Familara’s "Embedding" is almost world-travelling espionage set in a possible and not-so-distant future, with a strong female heroine. In this future, leftists still attempt to topple governments and corporations using carefully embedded images to spread the word about the evils that plague society. Familara’s story is competent but feels strangely familiar, maybe because it is similar to Dean Alfar’s "MaMachine."

Two other stories in the anthology mess with your head, but not in a really good way. Ejay Domingo’s "There’s A Waterfall In Your Rainbow" seems like a typical, forgettable, love story that may involve a strange creature. There’s nothing overtly speculative fiction about it, except for the fact that it seems to be set in a fantastic world and it’s delivered in a folktale kind of way. Angelo Lacuesta’s "Three Stories" portrays a Christopher Nolan type mind-game with a situation told three times with subtle changes each time, just like The XX’s music video for their song "Islands." It’s either a clever trick or a way to cloak a story where nothing really happens.

Other notable stories include Dean Alfar’s "Strange Weather," which earlier appeared in the on-line fantasy anthology he co-edited with Joseph Nacino, The Farthest Shore; Marla Cabanban’s very hipster "If We Catch Fire"; and Apol Lejano-Massibeau’s inventive "Various Short Fairytales: stories from found objects" which reminds you of a few of Neil Gaiman’s short stories.

Philippine Speculative Fiction five is a mixed bag of stories. There are some good stories but they don’t merit a re-read. Like fireworks: they’re pretty to look at but they disappear swiftly. In one sense, the anthology works well because of the interesting batch of stories that introduce us to the new heights that could the genre can reach, stories which challenge the way we see speculative fiction. But it’s just that, a brief taste: it provides a strong argument for the definition of what Philippine Speculative Fiction truly is. We’ll have to wait and see if that definition takes.

Philippine Speculative Fiction Volume 5 is available at Fully Booked.

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