While I waited for the book to arrive from Singapore, where Noelle de Jesus is based, the author asked me to forgive the typos in the book, which was taken from the first run of the title by Penguin Random House Southeast Asia. As of this writing, the second print run was completed and all the aforementioned errors have been cleaned out of the text.
But, typos or not, Cursed is a beautifully-made book, from the cover art to the stories it contains.
If one were to base merit of the work by its “Filipino-ness,” then it reaches that bar admirably—especially in its narratives and depictions of Filipinos in the diaspora. The sensibilities of de Jesus’ characters are all distinct, yet they are still recognizably Pinoy, despite the fact that their fictive lives are lived in places other than Inang Bayan.
De Jesus proved that she was a clever storyteller whose dab hand at the genre of traditionally-done short fiction takes the truths (in this case living with one’s Filipino-ness or in search thereof in a foreign land) and weaves stories that are very identifiable to every Filipino who has a relative residing in some other part of the world, either temporarily or permanently.
Her stories are honest, as were the stories she compiled in an earlier collection of fiction called Blood, which I also reviewed a couple of years ago. De Jesus’ skill and talent for the short story in English has only grown more formidable. The author’s adept manner of dealing with the complexity of her stories is amazing, and I stan Noelle de Jesus. I really do. The gentility and gentleness of her storytelling only underscore the core messages of her tales: That you bring home with you whether your realize it or not, because home is who you are. These stories are best read with slow jazz instrumentals or the haunting song of a nose flute for accompaniment.
It is refreshing to read short stories about Filipino expatriates who are not bidang api in a foreign land, all the better to understand how Filipinos have adapted to their new environs as members of communities that have adopted the ways of their new homes without losing what makes them Filipino.
This book is a very timely reminder that one does not need to overtly be a second-rate, trying-hard copycat of what we call Filipino because their Filipino-ness is stamped indelibly in who they are.
Would that our own pundits of Filipino literature stop insisting on stating that the obvious thing be extant in the text of a Filipino author’s work. Because de Jesus gives us proof positive that you can write stories that are unmistakably and indelibly Filipino, even in a “borrowed” language. Hell, National Hero Dr. Jose Rizal wrote in Spanish and you’d never mistake his writings for foreign text.
Back to my cats, they’re sorry their furmother got mad over the voracity with which they attempted to gobble Cursed, and are rubbing my ankles with their heads. I’ll tend to their concerns later.
I am still enjoying the view de Jesus gives me from her stories. Reading her work is like having movies playing in my head with her clear imagery, smooth transitions and deft story progression. I feel for every single one of her characters, cursed as they may feel they are.
If you aren’t going to the nearest bookstore to buy this book, you’ll miss a true gem and your life will be so sad. Yes, her stories are this good, and I am more than happy to patch up this lovely tome’s pages and put it on a high shelf my cats won’t climb. Because I’ll have a sprayer with ice water on hand to stop them if they attempt to do this. Cursed will sit between Chaucer and Lualhati Bautista on my shelf of favorites.