The second volume of Redila’s short graphic narratives is both a sequel and a spin off. Made up of six stories, either almost wordless comics or single panel sequences, they again tackle the fictional place of Meläg and its nearby environs. Aside from the first one, each story is noticeably much longer. If the Redila’s first volume appeared to be carefully composed poetic pieces, here we find deeper attention to characters and plot. Both of course are two sides of the same coin of his worldbuiding. Moreover, the first volume was distinctly guided by steampunk aesthetics, but this time, as some of the blurbs suggests, Redila takes on a more gothic tone, without completely abandoning the former. That said, this collection explores varying degrees of mystery and tragedy, and transformations both internal and external. The challenge and power of this creative choice is that, if transposed to a tropical setting, the gothic mood is harder to pull off. For example, it is much more difficult to discern since it is always sunny in the settings, more so in Redila’s signature black and white art. The gothic milieu is primarily mediated through young characters, or investigation of youth slipping away or held dearly. Carljoe Javier in his introduction, adds that the stories are ‘rooted in a sense of true childlike wonder, bound with an air of innocence and curiosity.’ This sense of wonder is also masterfully crafted into each story’s structure. Adam David in his foreword suggests to view the fantasy world of this collection as a diorama. ‘Masisilip sa malilit na butas ang mga pabulang nagaganap sa kanilang mga sisidlan,’ David writes. ‘Mag-uumpisa at matatapos ang mga kuwento sa tamang lugar at panahon sa mga guhit ni Bong, ngunit nauna na ito bago pa ito nag-umpisa sa pahina, at nagpapatuloy pa ito pagkatapos nito magwakas.’
The story Ang Bahay Apunan sa Mahamog establishes right away the figure of the young outsider which will be repeatedly be explored in the stories. He is different both physically and socially, and the two aspects reinforcing each other. Loreto is a gardener who observes his employer Karmen, while she teaches a class of orphans. He is in a unique position to not only see the facade behind Karmen as an authority figure, but also throughout the dark corners of the mansion. Mahamog literally means foggy, but the story takes place indoors. Following the gothic tradition, there is a high tower and a narrow staircase leading up to it. Here, Loreto and Karmen open up to each other, the former demonstrating his ability to remember and the latter her difficulty in forgetting. A simple and restrained exchange that truly transforms the mansion into a place of refuge. Dambuhala is another story that focus on the interaction of people’s lives and the landscape. The mayor of Marilag, a caricature easily recognizable through his barong-like shirt and his logic, decides to mobilize the entire community to build a wooden giant to attract progress, and to a certain extend, pride in the sleepy town. I remember finding the stories about robots a bit awkward in the Redila’s first book, what I consider to be grappling with the steampunk influence. Here, he comes on his own. Redila utilizes a somewhat obvious metaphor; the ceaseless cutting of trees will later usher in flooding. However in the Philippines, being in the geographic storm path and where logging and mining companies remain unchecked, this metaphor remains tragically urgent. The energy of building the robot reaches a magnitude similar to that of the Tower of Babel in its ambition and senselessness, only to be underwhelming after the robot comes to life and embeds itself between two mountains. A revision of the Bernardo Carpio myth, the giant blocked a deluge that came as the citizens flee to nearby Meläg. As the plot suggests, this is where Redilo’s most impressive drawings of landscapes can be found, simultaneously showing minute details as well as a terrain in flux. This makes up for an exhilarating read since the story is framed in the beginning with the cryptic ‘alamat ng Isla Higanteng Kamay’. Dambuhala is a remembrance of what is left in the flood. Sacrifice demanded by folly is seen underneath the landscape.
A sort of inverse to place-focused stories are ones about young characters, again very different in many ways just like Loreto. Ang Mapait at Maikling Buhay ni Marisol Dolores and Ang Muling Pagtahan ni Aurora Dante are about the resolve needed in growing up in an environment of hate, but also holding on to the kindness in certain people. Marisol’s story is told not just in single panels but also in a abecedary, requiring twice as much discipline. Marisol came into a world through tragedy, her mother dying after giving birth. She grew up destitute in the cemetery, raised by the town fool. An obvious nod to Lino Brocka’s Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang (1974), where the townspeople are as cruel and hypocritical. The residents of Matamis are as indulgent as their place name, depicted as closely resembling 19th century colonial high society, bringing to mind the landlord class of Negros for example. Every misfortune is attributed to Marisol’s presence, when in fact the deaths can be traced to complications due to their diets. Communal self-ruin mitigated by projection. Marisol however did bring peace to Matamis, at the cost of her own. Aurora Dante is another orphan, abandoned beneath a small fountain as a newborn. She is taken care by an affluent woman, presumably an old maid who dedicates her whole life in taking of her. Aurora’s physical difference is hidden but done in way that coveys solidarity, attempts to extend the domestic peace between mother and child into the outside world. When her adopted mother passes away, Aurora flees from an harassment incident she now has to bear alone. She finds herself in the same fountain, hearing the same soothing music that signaled her life changed directions. Memories of her mother’s kindness console Aurora into not returning the hate she has received back into the world.
The structure of the stories dicussed so far always return to a full circle moment, but not as concise and touching as the one laid out in Sundo. A love story in two parts, it begins when a young man gets on the bus with his bicyle and a girl catches his attention. The otherwise mundane commute became something enchanting, just like in Redila’s earlier story PNR 24. The characters expressions and body language exhibit so much dynamism in such a small space of bare seats, the bare roof of the vehicle, and among indifferent passengers. They grow old, and the first section ends with woman passing away. The man carry on with life, riding his trusted bicycle towards a bus stop, anticipating a journey towards elsewhere. However this time, a different looking bus appears, one with a roof and capiz shell windows. A masked driver though stopping by, always says to the man, ‘Hindi pa ngayon.’ I never thought grief could be depicted in such a lighthearted and optimistic manner. Loved ones don’t get separated, but rather await eventual reunion.
The collection’s subtitle Balikbayan is a curious choice, but in the end a fitting one. The word literally refers to a returning Filipino migrant, trying to make do in an economic system where the state finds it easier to export workers rather than generate jobs locally. It carries several connotations, among them of celebration, if not of a final return, at least a momentary pause from the grind and the loneliness of working abroad. A word I’m certain that is emotive to Redila, who is based in the US but keeps close ties to the Philippines. Another layer would mean him returning to the stories of Meläg which, as David argues, have a life of their own. The figure of the nation and the process of migration is largely absent, but the stories in Balikbayan, in various tones and approaches, is all about finding one’s way home or creating it. In the end, intimacy and belonging are framed as collective aspirations, rather than merely individual desires. This takeaway is the one I cherish most, after this momentary visit to Meläg.
Meläg II: Balikbayan is available for purchase in the Adarna House official website, as well as their official Lazada and Shopee accounts. The first volume of Meläg is out of print in the Philippines, but has a US edition in translation titled Meläg: Town of Fables published by Fantagraphic. The translation of Meläg II: Balikbayan is also in the works.
Jacob Laneria 