PRPB’s Book Talakayan of Kaisa Aquino’s Isabela
Last 22nd March, the Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books (PRPB) discussed Kaisa’s debut novel Isabela. To celebrate the Women’s month, #AbanteBabae was reinforced with a woman writer and a woman moderator tackling the heavy prose of the book; it’s fragmented realities and lost histories, together with the involvement of women in the movement, either directly or indirectly. Sheltered in the safe space of Quezon City Public Library, we made the discussion more friendly through the banters and jests, inviting the attendees to interject or ask follow-up questions as we go along the discussions.
We opened the BT with the introduction of everyone, knowing their names and their current activities, and who are their favorite Women Writers. Even though we are of less than 20 attendees, I was amazed that we have cited many women writers, echoing their contributions to the rich landscape of the Pinoy literary.
Kaisa, a profound Filipino word meaning “one with”, confessed that she is a 90’s kid, She explained that her name is merely a combination of two provinces — Cagayan and Isabela. With her name demystified, we also asked on how the interweaving stories came into life and how it was also blended together, crafting a composite novel from her years in her graduate school. “Thesis lang naman talaga ito eh,” she mentioned, but after the 7 years of writing grind and multiple workshops, she gave birth a tale of different women from the iterations of Isabela, overarching the theme of her hometown and its proximity from the three decades of insurgency in the countryside.
One of the questions I asked was “women and wounds”, and how Isabela’s multiple iterations received all forms of wounds — from a literal bullet, to the disappearances, to the loss of a husband, of a son, and of a father — and how they carry it through time, while coping and healing through different means. As a reader, I felt the heaviness of the prose. They carry the wounds and they keep on moving, continuing on the search and meaning, may it be a run for survival (from the military), a search for an alternative healing (tawa-tawa leaves) and a trail to summit (to see the purple hydrangeas). I even told Kaisa, “Sana ako na lang ang nasusugatan… kasi parang ang bigat na.” She answered back, “Ella, hindi ka ba nasusugatan?” Her reverse card question made me realize that I am also very much a wounded woman who soldiers on, the same with the characters in the novel.
Aside from the questions of themes, the winding narratives, and the execution of prose, the members also shared their reading experiences. CL mentioned how the multitude of characters and iterations were effectively executed. Kwesi asked about redefining the work from his first impression that Isabela is a collection of short stories. Jaffy digressed that maybe the novel is a proposed reality from the current socio-political climate we are in. Jayson shares that he sees the sentiments of regrets and its fragmented stories of struggle. Lawrence apologizingly confessed that he found the open-ended endings of each chapter difficult to ingest, a journey very challenging to trek because of the shifts
of the point-of-view and genre of realism and magical realism. I guess his reading experience feels like a tiring hike, its summit filled with fog. Meanwhile, my reading experience feels like away from the mountains. I shared the metaphor of anchorage and voyage via the novel’s prologue and ending; a ship lifting its anchors (the norms imposed on women), readying itself for another journey (of going home).
Miss Thelma, a retired teacher and a guest of our Book Talakayan, did not ask Kaisa any questions about the latter’s craft and poetics, but thanked her instead. She was grateful that someone has written about her province. In her mellow voice, she told us that their shared hometown is filled with stories of beauty and activism and after a long time, Kaisa was able to put them in paper.
The final question came from Rikkimar, a PNU student. “Paano natin mailalapit ang akda sa mga taong malayo sa danas ng nasa libro?” To which Billy jokingly answered, “Eh di ipabasa mo.” And I believe Kaisa agreed, because one way to reach the other’s heart is through a shared experience and building through a community of reading.
I ended the #BookTalakayan citing this page 77 of Isabela, its prose a perfect description of a suspended reality:
“Ka Abel says that they’re here. This is the place. Just as they cross over the bend of the meadow, without warning whatsoever, the landscape changes, as if a cloth lifts, and all they can now see are the purple hydrangeas. They are all suddenly still, stunned by the unreal view, like a fantasy. The world tilts heavily as they take in the whole landscape. It’s marvelous.”
A day after, I still remember the echoes and sighs of this discussion I moderated. And I realized, this book club can appreciate the stillness of beauty among the chaos of the mad world.
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