Meteorologically, autumn in Europe begins today, September 1 which sounds official, but it just means the calendar is trying to boss us around. Thankfully, the sky is still a cheerful blue, and the air feels like summer forgot to collect its belongings before leaving.

Thus, I wasn’t shocked when one of my friends texted me that she was sitting in the coffee shop right across from my place. What I didn’t expect was that she’d bought “Where You Are Really From.” That’s what true friends do: they buy your books and pop up in random cafés, making your day brighter. Their actions remind us that we share the same boat, and by rowing together, we can reach the shore with strength and safety.”

This friend isn’t into “I, me, and selfie” routine, so you won’t find her in the frame. It’s a pity because you’re missing out on her beautiful Irish smiles — the kind that could probably qualify for cultural heritage status.

“Where You Are Really From” was born from an unholy union of righteous indignation and the unshakable urge to prove a point with footnotes. It all started in October last year at the book fair in Luxembourg. I was having a pleasant, literary day until an American shattered the peace. With the breezy confidence of someone who had just Googled the quote on my stand, he triumphantly declared that I was Filipino. It was not in a curious or conversational tone but in the proud voice of a person who believed he had just discovered me, had planted a flag with a golden sun that symbolises independence and democracy, and was awaiting to be appointed the Philippines’ honorary consul in Luxembourg.

Naturally, I was offended; but rather than trigger an international incident, I chose the nobler path (i.e. weaponising passive-aggressive humour in book form … ha!ha!). It is diplomacy with a smirk, a tasteful hint of reality, and just enough seriousness to keep a straight face.

I began with a table of contents before the actual content, which was like building a menu before learning to cook.  Five months later, in March, I met John (another American), who agreed to be my beta reader. In June, came one more American, Karen! Isn’t this mysteriously coincidental? It is a story that started and concluded with Americans, at a moment in history when their president is not exactly enjoying a wave of global affection.

After some deliberations and numerous cups of herbal tea, I landed on three contenders for the cover. After soul-searching and pixel-pushing, I ended up designing a cover that looked suspiciously like an Australian passport. I wanted to go with the classy French “burgundy” look that I also have, but (apparently) blue covers outsell red ones. (Capitalism – 1, Aesthetics – 0). Then, I resorted to the ultimate decision-making strategy: emailing 17 friends around the world to cast their votes.  My final choice was influenced by this message from my Aussie friend: “Hi Rolade, given the topic, I think that the first cover is by far the best. It is warm and human, the second design is too impersonal for me”.

So, there you have it:“Where You Are Really From” isa journey of identity, accidental offence, new friendship, humour, and a manuscript sprinkled with existential seasoning.