I’m aware – as aware as I can be, I’d hope – that my worldview is… limited by my worldview. So when I read a comic that I feel came out of nowhere, but is this fully formed thing, I try to acknowledge that I might not have the full history: maybe the book and its creatives are known quantities, and it’s only new to me.

But I think Trese did actually arrive from nowhere, rather backed up by the fore- and afterword matter in this US Ablaze-reprinted edition (after several international printings of the Visprint original), with writer Budjette Tan and artist Kajo Baldisimo practically willing the book into existence. Multiple volumes, spinoffs, and a Netflix adaptation later, and it should be clear: they were on to something.

That “something” is Alexandra Trese, a specialist detective in Manila, called in for her expertise when the facts of a case have gone beyond the normal realms of police business – normal being regular ol’ murder or manslaughter, whereas when you can’t explain how corpses are spontaneously combusting, or why there are hoof prints at the scene of a car crash, perhaps Ms. Trese has some contacts that can help ‘splain.

Though it may seem simplistic that Trese’s wrinkle to the occult detective format is tapping into Philippine mythology and culture for its lore, the appeal of the book is much deeper than that, as Tan and Baldisimo almost immediately create a world, and not a shtick. It can kind of seem like a head-first enterprise, as (for an American reader) you’re tossed in with lots of lingo and a tone that assumes we understand the general premise, there’s a subtle balance to education and assumption at work, that keeps the book always moving forward and operating within some general procedural parameters while not having to slow down and handhold. You get up to speed quickly, as do our creatives: I mentioned this seemed to come from nowhere, and yet, even as an early project from the duo, the writing (as translated) and art arrive fully intact, communicating series voice and style that don’t suffer from the overwrought overreach of many indie books. As the chapters tick on, you can see the classic 70s styles informing Baldisimo’s noir-y, cinematic look, but the mood is still unique; Tan has a terse, upfront writing style that sits aside pulp contemporaries like Azzarello or Brubaker, but – as much as I’ve enjoyed the writings from those examples – there’s a lack of pretense in Trese that makes it incredibly accessible, but also much more real feeling: the characters operate in a heightened version of the our world, but it is our world all the same. Although these early issues are very focused on the crimes and the solves – not much character building – there’s no doubt of the characters existing in that world as well.

In addition, there’s some focused, in-universe extras in the form of journal entries on the various spooks with which Trese interacts – which, to clarify, are an interesting blend of morally ambiguous types, open to help or harm as befits their needs. These extras hit a sweet spot for me: adding to the story context without feeling like dictionary dumps, but worth reading on their own terms as well.

I have my unspoken judgements when it comes to indie books: if you’ve only ever published one book and then disappeared, I look upon the work with extra scrutiny – why get invested, and / or does that mean the creator(s) couldn’t hack it past that one try? On the other hand, if you’ve published 100 books in a relatively short period, well… how? There’s a kind of lack of filter I associate with that that seems related to a lower bar of quality, i.e. quantity ranking over it. Trese had… a lot of books associated with it before I stepped in, and I hadn’t seen the creators names outside of that book. So I stacked up my judgments, opened the first page and had my assumptions steamrolled over by one of the most engrossing comic reads in a long while, flabbergasted at how polished the product was at the outset, promising greater things to come…