You know how you can tell a person was killed by a sirena? They die standing up.
To quote from After Lambana‘s tagline, “Lambana, the realm of the Diwata, has fallen, the Magic Prohibition Act has been signed into law, and there is something wrong with Conrad’s heart.” It’s a juicy premise from creators Eliza Victoria and Mervin Malonzo. Conrad’s chance encounter with the mysterious Ignacio offers the promise of hope and Diwata, the magical, albeit illegal, treatments that will be Conrad’s salvation. But there is something Ignacio is not telling Conrad, and in seeking his cure, Conrad will discover both Lambana’s secrets and learn the details of his past.
After Lambana: Myth and Magic in Manila
Eliza Victoria (Writer), Mervin Malonzo (Artist)
Tuttle Publishing
June 7, 2022
In After Lambana, these two young men travel around Urban Manila, where magic and myth live alongside non-magical human beings. Ignacio is one of these magical creatures, while Conrad is younger mortal suffering from an incurable ailment. While their ties are not especially strong and their history not lengthy, Ignacio is on a quiet mission to help cure Conrad’s ill health and restore the younger man’s vitality. Conrad is slightly perplexed by the attention, but he sees his adventure as one last hurrah. However, something in Conrad’s past may hold the key to his recovery. Via a backstory delving deeper into Manilian folklore and Conrad’s childhood, the reader learns what connects these men, the ties that bind them, and Conrad’s supernatural connection.
Speaking as someone interested in folklore and mythology, any story that weaves ancient traditions into an urban tale is catnip to me, especially when it’s done well. Fortunately, the combination of well-known myth and fictional creation is well-balanced in After Lambana. The backstory unfolds steadily, slowly, the flow of the narrative well suited to watery, aqua hues of Mervin Malonzo’s illustrations, which often provide a submerged feeling the deeper you get into the story. Malonzo’s pencil line artwork exaggerates the book’s otherworldy angle, making the ‘between worlds’ narrative increasingly potent, as Conrad’s grounding to his mortality progressively deteriorates.
Malonzo’s artwork is both vivid and grimy, magical and seedy. Pages verge from sunset skies to watery depths to grimy subway cars, every illustration contributing and driving the narrative on the pages which lack dialogue. The pencil-like artistry also enhances the fragility of Conrad’s life and the delicacy of Ignacio’s mission, which is both knowingly circumspect and reassuring. The colours, plenty of blues and greens, evoke the sea in which the sirenas reside; I couldn’t help thinking about Odysseus and The Odyssey (and the Sirens in the story), mainly because Conrad is also on a voyage of sorts.
While the book’s strength lies in the unity between Malonzo’s artwork and Victoria’s narrative — especially the complex social-political dynamics between the real modern world and the ancient spirit world — these riveting, complex ideas begin to feel a little hurried as the story reaches its dynamic conclusion. Although revving up the speed to move the plot along does not necessarily diminish the story’s outcome, it still feels a little at odds with the steadiness of the plot up to this point, especially considering the variety of ideas on display in all of their glorious intricacy.
After Lambana is a fresh take on ancient folklore, camaraderie, and personal journeys. Submerge yourself in the artwork but be wary of sirenas.
