THE HOUSE OF MONSTROUS WOMEN by DAPHNE FAMA

EILEEN TABIOS Engages

House of Monstrous Women by Daphne Fama

(Berkley/Penguin Random House, 2025)

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I was interested in reviewing Daphne Fama’s House of Monstrous Women because I wanted to confirm two observations on Western-published books. 

The first relates to Filipino mythological creatures like aswangs (“shape-shifting hunters, corpse eaters, baby killers,”(104) manananggals, enkantos, sigbins (“bloodsucking animals that haunted the night” 125), kapre, tiyanak, etc. These creatures are showing up in recent books not published by Philippine publishers; another recent example is Jet Tagasa’s The Secret Lives of OFWs (which Halo Halo Review discusses HERE). I appreciate seeing these elements outside the Philippine publication world since, to me, it’s a sign of Filipino culture being known globally (in the same way as K-pop or Japanese anime).

On this point, it’s notable that Fama’s publisher is Berkley (of Penguin Random House), a mainstream publisher with leading authors in women’s fiction, romance, science fiction/fantasy, and mystery/suspense and commercial bestsellers like Jayne Ann Krentz, Frank Herbert and Mark Greaney, among others. I hope Daphne Fama rises to join the company of these bestselling authors.

The second observation is how these Filipino-authored books by a younger generation of writers are referencing the dictatorial regime of Ferdinand Marcos, Sr. Another example is Nathan Go’s 2023 novel Forgiving Imelda Marcos. I welcome this trend for normalizing the existence of the Marcos Martial Law dictatorship—for years, supporters of Marcos have tried to revise history by dismissing the negative aspects of the martial law years; I even heard of attempts to excise references to it in Philippine textbooks. Thus, I appreciate how the story is set against the backdrop of the 1986 People Power revolt that would come to overthrow Marcos, Sr.

I particularly appreciated the scenes of Josephine, the primary protagonist, fleeing a “blackened, howling river” of aswangs while a radio blared out from its coverage of the People Power revolution, “We will not run! We will not surrender! We will die here, for our country, for our brothers and sisters…” (239) A few pages later (264), the radio would blare out lyrics from Tony Orlando & Dawn’s “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree,” a song that accompanied the yellow ribbons flooding the streets after the assassination of Marcos, Sr.’s then primary opposition leader, Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino. And when Josephine finall escaped the monstrous house, she fleed with this backdrop and layer of

Cory Aquino’s voice cut over the music, her voice bright. “The long agony is over. A new life starts for our country tomorrow. A life filled with hope, nad I believe a life that will be blessed wit peace and progress. We can be truly proud of the unprecedented way in which we achieved our freedom, with courage, with determination, and most of all in peace.” (315)

The novel’s story did not need this Marcos backdrop, but it provided a welcome layer to a horror story of fleeing monsters that could have remained generic. Indeed, having the story unfold against the 1986 People Power Revolution is nothing less than, as they say, a stroke of genius. 

For these reasons and others I haven’t mentioned, I welcome seeing House of Monstrous Women which, related to the second observation, is presented in the genre of horror. Horror is a popular genre and different from other fictions that have addressed Marcos, Sr.’s legacy through the categories of historical fiction or literary fiction (think of Linda Ty-Casper, Ninotchka Rosca, Gina Apostol, even, cough, me, among others).

As a horror tale, Josephine, her brother Alejandro, and sister-in-law Gabriella arrive at a house where Hiraya and other aswangs reside. Here, they compete in a dangerous game of “tagu-tagu” (hide-and-seek at night) through which the winner obtains the life s/he wants. If Josephine won, she would have a life back at her ancestral home with family and without undergoing an unwanted marriage; Alejandro’s win would garner him have a successful life in politics; and Hiraya’s victory would allow her to change her destiny as an aswang. 

Fama’s writing style is notable for presenting richly-delineated specifics and descriptions. Indeed, after reading her bio which presents her as having been born in the American South, I was pleasantly surprised by Fama’s generously descriptive writing for lending an authenticity—an impression that surfaces from implying the author really knows her material (e.g. as if Fama grew up or lives there in the Philippines). If this is just because of excellent research, that’s still worth complimenting—while I thought this as I read t he novel, the Author’s Note at the end of the book (so that I read it after reading the novel) would reveal that the novel is inspired by her family history that she learned from conversations with her mother and interviews with elders and folk practitioners of healing and curing from her ancestral hometown of Carigara.

I also appreciate the philosophical statements inserted naturally throughout the story, for example: “Happiness demands suffering. It demands pain.” (118)

That said, I have to say I wasn’t actually scared by anything in the story. I don’t know if that’s a criticism since this is the horror genre. I wonder if the fact that I didn’t feel scared resulted from Fama’s need to normalize (so to speak) the existence of aswangs or monsters for plot purposes. That is, the characters had to have incentive to participate in the deadly game of tagu-tagu, and that incentive was to believe the rewards were possible because the aswangs had the power to make it so. Did such normalization dilute the dread that might have existed if the witches were viewed as more alien rather than as part of Carigara’s culture?

Nonetheless, my enjoyment of this highly-imaginative twist to the Philippines’ Marcos Martial Law period wasn’t affected by the lack of fear-inducing moments and, who knows, perhaps fear is subjective so that what scares one reader may not scare another. Perhaps there’s no right or wrong on the definition of scary.

What is scary is real life, such as what is happening in Philippine politics after the Marcos, Sr. Martial Law dictatorship. Marcos, Jr., after all, is the current President of the Philippines which extends the oligarchical hold over the country’s power sources. The House of Monstrous Women reminds us that monsters are not fictional but exist outside of the book’s borders—by offering this reminder, the novel is horrific indeed.

*****

  

Eileen R. Tabios has released books of poetry, fiction, essays, art and experimental prose from publishers around the world. Recent publications include a children’s book Tata Efren’s Forever Laughter (with Mel Vera Cruz and Jeannie E. Celestial); the novels The Balikbayan Artist and DoveLion; the poetry collections Engkanto in the Diaspora and Because I Love You, I Become War; an autobiography The Inventor; the short story collections The Erotic Space Around Art Objects and Getting To One; and an art monograph Drawing Six Directions. More information is at https://eileenrtabios.com