Filipino Gothic: In conversation with Lerah Mae Barcenilla on invisible cities and enchantment!

And I've been announced a 'Future Leader' by The Bookseller! Fancy...

A very happy Friday Scribblers,

The second reprint of ‘Modern Gothic’ has arrived - and so today we’ll be delving into Filipino folklore and ghostly worlds with contributor Lerah! I was also absolutely bowled over to be on this prestigious Future Leader list by The Bookseller - who says an indie press can’t punch above its weight? I’ve decided to go to the fancy conference attached to these awards, even though it’s the equivalent of 4 days of work… Sometimes you have to say f*ck it - and I will be networking my socks off!!

As Christmas peeks at us behind the corner, here’s the latest reviews in for best-seller ‘The Process of Poetry’, craft interviews from first draft to award-winning poem, edited by journalist Rosanna McGlone and compelling novella ‘Lying Perfectly Still’ by Laura Fish, in which a 23-year-old orphan travels from Oxford to Eswatini to discover her heritage. You could pop one of these in our handy Christmas bundles - a book, a tote bag, a Xmas card and a tree planted! A gift for you, or a friend…

And before we put the spotlight on Lerah, a reminder that our mini window for short story and poetry collections closes this Sunday. Guidelines here.

Welcome Lerah! We were delighted to publish your atmospheric story ‘The City Where One Finds The Lost’ in ‘Modern Gothic’. Can you share more about the research process for the folkloric elements in your story? Are there specific legends or myths that directly inspired certain aspects?

‘The City Where One Finds The Lost’ is heavily inspired by two aspects of Filipino folklore – the archipelago’s magical, invisible cities and their equally beguiling inhabitants.

The Philippines is said to be home to many mythical invisible cities. One of which is Biringan, a mythical city said to be located in the Samar province of the Philippines. According to local folklore, the city is home to the engkanto and their progeny with humans. Another city is believed to be located between Passi and Dumarao, referred to as the Hidden City of Iloilo. In some old maps, you can see the Panay Railroad curving strangely between Passi and Dumarao… as if it was built to avoid the area where the hidden city is supposedly located.

The engkanto (lit. “enchantment” or “bewitched”) or “enchanted beings” are probably the most well-known folklore in the Philippines. They’ve always been present in anything we do, especially growing up in rural Philippines and certain superstitions imply their constant presence. For example, if you have to walk through a forested or mountainous area, you have to say “tabi tabi po” which means “excuse me” or “please move aside, I’m only passing through” but also “I mean no harm” in case there are any magical but invisible beings around. It’s a way of announcing your presence lest you unintentionally offend them or step on their homes. Failure to do so, and disturbing such creatures, may lead to unexplained sickness that can only be cured by an albularyo (folk healer). Though their appearances may vary, they are said to be very beautiful but may have unusual features such as high-bridged noses and lack of philtrum. Their dwellings appear to the naked eye as natural formations such as large rocks or trees such as the balete tree.

Surprisingly, the research process for this particular short story was minimal. I love researching the Philippines’ mythology and folklore. I’m always looking for excuses to do more and, in a way, writing stories about them is a great excuse. But for ‘The City Where One Finds The Lost’ I already knew about the engkanto. I’ve lived alongside them since I was a child. Writing this story was almost like remembering a long-forgotten memory… or a fading dream.

What inspired you to blend Philippine folklore with a coming-of-age romance in this story?

The engkanto often fall in love with humans… but their love can be deadly. When an enchanted being falls in love with a human they try to abduct them. In this case, the human’s soul is taken to the city but, in the real world, they fall sick, and their physical form slowly wastes away. Or at least, that’s how the story usually goes. A doomed love story. A warning to never stray too far into the forest. But then I started to wonder, what if? What if the engkanto themselves began to fall in love and truly care for their human? What if their “abduction” wasn’t malevolent at all but, instead, it was the only way they could think of to save the human’s soul?

Those two elements – mysterious enchanted beings and a dangerous love – seemed the perfect recipe for a gothic story. Add an isolated town surrounded by a forest, an old house and a sprinkle of recurrent dreams and we’re set.

The invisible city plays a central role in the narrative. How does it symbolise themes of loss, memory, and the afterlife in Filipino culture?

There is barely any research material for the invisible cities of the Philippines save for some short documentaries and an urban legend that locals are reluctant to talk about, wary of its mysterious inhabitants. In some stories, the mystical city is home to enchanted beings, in others, it is a sanctuary for lost souls. And the concept of the soul in Filipino philosophy is an interesting one. In Western Visayas, particularly with the Karay-a and Hiligaynon people, dungan refers to the soul. It can’t be seen and can voluntarily come out of the body, especially when a person is sleeping. Sickness is often attributed to the temporary loss of the dungan, while death is its permanent loss. In some cases, the soul can be held hostage by malevolent supernatural beings such as the engkanto.

Those two combined, especially the lack of information on the invisible cities, made me ask so many questions. What would the city look like? What would compel you to stay? Would you be aware that you are under its enchantment? If not, would there be moments at which you would question it? And for me, it comes back to the idea of home. That the city might appear differently to whoever it abducts but whatever it appears as is that person’s definition of home. Populated by familiar faces you grew up with or you are fond of. Well-worn paths you’ve walked on since you were a child. Maybe even your childhood home. Because why would you leave if you’re already home?

Can you elaborate on the significance of food and fruit imagery throughout the story, particularly in relation to temptation and entrapment?

In Filipino folklore, particularly stories pertaining to the engkanto, the first thing you learn is how to spot them. The second is to never eat anything they offer you. You know how some stories say that if you hear music in the forest, you shouldn’t check it out? The engkanto are known to be fond of indulging in feasts and fiestas. Loud music, beautiful, otherworldly strangers and a table filled with every food and fruit you can ever desire. If you don’t look too closely, you might accidentally eat wriggling, black rice. That’s a sign that the food on the table might not be from our world. If you do consume food from the engkanto, you won’t be able to return. You will be forever trapped in their realm.

Has your personal experience growing up in the Philippines influenced the setting and atmosphere of this story?

Definitely. I once read an interview with the author Kazuo Ishiguro where he spoke of how the Japan that exists in his books is very much his “own personal, imaginary Japan”. It was “a place of [his] own childhood”, a particular Japan he could never return to. Writing then became a place “to put together all these memories and all these imaginary ideas [he] had about this landscape that [he] called Japan.” From the municipal hall to the plaza, down to the orchids that grow outside the house gates, I think every rural town I write will have echoes of Cuartero, Capiz in the Philippines, where I grew up. In fact, the name of the fictional town in ‘The City Where One Finds The Lost’, Sangbulawan, comes from “barko nga bulawan” or the mythical “golden ship” said to sail in the rivers of the Philippines. I last read about this particular story in one of my godmother’s notes from her project of documenting Cuartero’s local folklore. Some stories say they carry the souls of the deceased. Others say the ship transports otherworldly passengers across the archipelago – the engkanto.

When I wrote ‘The City Where One Finds The Lost’ I was also trying to write a novel featuring another Filipino folkloric creature, set in rural Philippines and specifically exploring how the gothic might appear in a Philippine setting. I wanted to explore the elements of gothic that construct what can be seen as, distinctly, Filipino Gothic.

Photo of author by Ibi Keita

The narrative shifts between past and present. What challenges did you face in maintaining coherence while moving through different time periods?

Shifting between past and present was challenging. I wanted to follow how our narrator unravels the story for herself; how she connects the dots as we, the reader, does at the same time. How her mind tries to rationalise it, painting the series of events that led her to this point not with fear but what almost feels like fondness, always stained by Anastacia’s own enchantment. Whether that’s to protect our narrator from what would be a terrifying discovery of her reality or to convince her to stay under the safety of the illusion, or maybe both. I think I’ll leave that up to the reader.

As a Filipino author, how do you view your role in preserving and reimagining traditional folklore for contemporary readers?

That’s quite a loaded question. On one hand, that sounds like a lot of responsibility! On the other hand, I’m just writing what I love and enjoy and what I want to learn more of. I’ve been very lucky that ‘The City Where One Finds The Lost’ has found a home in ‘Modern Gothic’ and has been well received. But when I wrote it, I didn’t think “oh, my goal is to preserve this story” – it was probably more “I think that the engkanto and the presence of invisible cities in the Philippines are fascinating. I want to read more about them so I’ll write a short story inspired by them.” It’s really just an excuse to do more research…  but the last thing I want is for someone to read this fantastical story and see it as an encyclopaedia. Instead, I’d like this story (and anything that I write) to be doorways that I hope someone might be curious enough to peer into, maybe even walk through and explore the many mythologies and folklores of the Philippines – in the same way I did many years ago when I read someone else’s story.

Thank you for bring Filipino Gothic to our eyes and ears to devour, Lerah! You can grab a copy of ‘Modern Gothic’ here.

Until next week Scribblers, stay cosy,

Isabelle x