Fantasy has always had a place in my heart. I grew up loving the idea of mythical creatures and realms meant only for those lucky enough to be invited. I read books that opened my heart to mythologies of unbelievable heroes defeating evil gods to save their cities, and because of that, I was inspired to try writing something similar myself. But despite the research and draft after draft of revisions, I never seemed to connect with what I wrote.
For years, I questioned why. Perhaps it was a lack of source material, or maybe I had not read enough. Nothing I wrote felt like something I could truly relate to, until I finally found the answer.
Maybe it was because those stories never felt familiar to me.
Most of us grew up reading or watching stories shaped by mythical traditions from the other side of the world. We were more exposed to their customs, languages, legends, and beliefs, and somewhere along the way, we were made to feel that these were the only stories worth entertaining our imagination with. Because of that, we sometimes reach a point where we forget our own.
Reading Sabrina Victoria's The Princess of Himmapan gave me something I had not felt in a mythology book before: a touch of familiarity. Victoria's references to our tropical corner of the continent were not new to me, and that was exactly what I admired. The local customs, the traditional clothing, the wondrous creatures that felt close to the ones we have here in the Philippines, all of it felt different from what I was used to, but in the best possible way.
Because it carried an intimacy with my culture that other stories could never quite convey.
Because it felt like home.
The representation in this book made me realize how important it is to know my own culture, especially now. We are not only more exposed to modern retellings of myths from the other side of the world, but we also rarely stop to consider the value of the stories that are uniquely ours. The Princess of Himmapan is a reminder of how much our identity matters. As a country colonized more than once, one whose culture was reshaped repeatedly over centuries, we are called to honor and preserve the tales our ancestors left behind, and to resist the pull of losing ourselves in someone else's mythology.
Our local folktales may be fiction, but they are an echo of those who came before us. A record of how they lived, how they fought, and how they survived.
As a writer, I found something in The Princess of Himmapan that I had not expected. It brought a warmth I did not know I was missing. As I work on my own story set in a fantasy world, I now find myself looking more closely at the place I come from, at my own people, for a foundation that actually reflects who I am. In this book, I found something stronger to write from: not just a part of myself, but a part of a culture that has continued to live on despite everything it has faced. It has given me the courage to pick up the pen again, only this time with my own soil beneath the story.
The Princess of Himmapan is one of many stories that resonate with Southeast Asian culture and give us a place to reflect and reclaim our voices. It is one of the many books we can read in hopes of remembering these tales well enough to pass them on to the next generation, and the one after that. For us Filipinos, it is a reminder not to let our culture and traditions quietly disappear.
So the next time you find yourself in a reading slump, or standing in a bookstore with more options than you know what to do with, maybe this is the nudge you needed. Pick up something familiar. Check out a local author. Read your own mythology. Fall in love with the stories that were always meant to feel like home.
By Jamela Manzano