books – Page 2

Kilome-kilome-kilometer Zero

Book Review: Kilometer Zero by Josue Mapagdalita

“Ella, kahit wala kang kotse, bakit kabisadong-kabisado mo ang dinadaanan natin?” Ito ang naging tanong ng isang officemate nang hinatid ko papuntang Ugong, ang barangay malapit sa aking maliit na bahay. Nang mabanggit kong nabatak ako ng patok jeep hits ng Stop N Shop-Cogeo ay natawa na lang sila dahil sa kwento ng nakabibingin biyahe na tumatagal dahil sa tindi ng trapik.

Tulad ng aklat na ito, ang haba ng binayahe ko:

1. Nakita ang sample sa Philippine Book Festival

2. May nagchismis sa PBF na mahilig magparaffle ang manunulat (kaya hindi binili)

3. Umasa sa Nakita sa Booksale pero Hindi Binili (wala pa rin akong badge!!!)

4. Nagdownload ng PDF format mula sa page ni Josue Mapagdalita (pero ang gulo ng PDF stamp sa bawat pahina)

5. Umasa ulit sa ikalawang raffle ni Nakita sa Booksale keme ang dami ko pang nai-tag na tao, nandamay na

6. Nanalo ng ibang libro sa Akdang Pinoy

7. Nag-binge hike sa Japan

8. Sumuko na at bumili na ng signed copy (salamat sa pa-message! sobrang na-appreciate ko!!!)

Ngl, nang mabasa ko ang unang kwento, nasa isip ko na baka pang-Young Adult ito — typical for teenager readers. Samahan mo pa ng makulay na pabalat ng aklat. Mapapa-uwu ka if teenager ka, pero sa tulad kong konting pikit bago ang kwarenta ay medyo na-weirduhan sa sarili. “Clickbait ba ito? Baka puru ganito, hugot na naman ba ito? Recycled content na ata ito eh!” Pero katulad ng bawat commute, samu’t-saring danas pala ang maba-vibes mo sa bawat kwento. Best to read the book one story per commute. Maganda talaga syang bitbit sa iyong byahe, na kaysa maburyo ka sa pagpila sa terminal, or mapasinghal ka sa puru pulang kotse ang nakikita sa daan, eh mahihigop ka sa mga sansaglit na sentimyento ng bawat dagli. Bigla kong naalala ang Suong ni Gerome Nicolas Dela Peña – ang koleksyon ng kanyang mga tweet. At gaya ng sa Suong, pwedeng simulan sa gitna ang aklat, tapos pwedeng mag-lipat-lipat. Dahil kung tutuusin, ang bawat biyahe natin ay hindi isang sprint, kundi isang marathon — isang combo ng samu’t-saring uri ng lakad at takbo.

Nagustuhan ko ang mabilis na dama ng sensibilidad, dahil naging intensyon pala ng manunulat na walang gender ang mga tauhan. Without gender assignments, we can lure ourselves in the stories with the touch of our personal histories and sagas. At mas nagustuhan ko ang “alingawngaw” ng koleksyon. Mula sa personal na hugot ng pag-ibig, lumalawak ang boses sa mas malaking mga bagay sa paligid: ang iba’t-ibang baitang ng manggagawang uri; ang hindi pagtuong-pansin sa ating personal na lagay (Mental Health) sa ngalan ng pag-grind; ang pagtalikod sa pinagmulang bayan at pangarap sa ngalan ng mas maalwal na buhay; at ang natitirang pait ng mga lumisan sa iyong buhay (Side note: sobrang nadali ako ng kwento na may biyaheng Sucat, nalungkot ako sa sarili kong mga college friends na hindi na nagkikita mula noong rehimeng Duterte, pero bago ang 2016 ay ang hilig na naming magreklamo kapag papuntang Town).

Sa larawang ito, nasa likod ng librong ito ang aming barangay hall. At base sa google maps, 18km ito mula sa Kilometer Zero. Wala lang, share. Pero maraming salamat sa akdang ito. Na-pwera-usog ang kagusutuhang kumpletuhin ang personal na sanaysay ng mga ligalig at lakbay (na hopefully, matapos ko nang matindi-tindi kasi puru pa rin sample size ang naipapasa, haha!)

The Forestry of Fiction

A Book Talakayan of Glenn Diaz’s Yñiga

Last Saturday, September 28, Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books (PRPB) discussed the Glenn Diaz’s second book, Yñiga for our Book Talakayan for the month. A contrast from the previous months, the book was a bit heavier on theme and discussion was done more intimately. Nontheless, we were able to spark the interest of our new book club attendess to chime in and get personal with the author about how he created the novel, its underlying themes and the process of building its series of events. We held the discussion in Harong Cafe, the headquarters of the Human Rights and People Empowerment Center (HRPEC).

We opened the discussion with the introduction of the new joiners, letting them say their horoscope signs and names of their pets if they have one. Like Yñiga who leans more on the horoscope, I prefer to know the demographics of the attendess so that I can leverage the temperament of the discussion.

The first question that comes to mind: how did the book emerge? Glenn answered that his second book is a manuscript out of his doctorate thesis from University of Adelaide, proving that the forest can be a setting, a novel’s design, and a device of discourse about the deep-rooted history of social activism, counter-insurgency, and our personal and collective traumas. “It’s like another thesis defense again!” Glenn gasped, as he talked about the Qualitative and the Academic nuances of the novel before traversing the creative pursuit. As an accountant with no experience in presenting qualitative thesis, I found this fascinating.

Unlike the first novel focusing on interweaving narratives, Yñiga focused more on the interweaving of timelines and in its spiral prose style. Glenn honestly mentioned about the thought process of trauma, quoting Lenin, “one step forward, two steps back.” The discussion was like paving a new walking path to the forestry of Glenn’s fiction, as Yñiga’s winding narrative requires patient exploration. Readers have to weave through the long paragraphs and sentences that doesn’t explicitly show if one is an internal dialogue or otherwise. Glenn trusted the readers to navigate the slow-burn prose. He candidly said, “Yñiga is like an edging reading experience”. When asked about memorable scenes, Glenn was personally proud of the “sepia moments”: those cinematic shots of Yñiga’s childhood flashing forward to her present, minutes before the suspense.

The members asked and commented about a different take of feminism in the novel; how the women were very much involved in the community and how it pales their personal relationships. Jayson also mentioned that despite Yñiga being an unlikeable character and being distant to the events that go on around her, and yet it contrasts to the lyrical beauty of the prose. Julian, an editor, mentioned about the sense of community in one of the important events of the novel. Perry asked about Glenn’s experience of putting a logical discourse to a craft seamlessly as this was manifested in the novel. Krystine, a new attendee, asked about the impression of using English as the main language of the novel as this would cater foreign readers more than to fellow Filipinos. Capping the discussion, Kwesi asked what’s next for Glenn, what are some of the project/s he is working on, or if he will write a novel in Filipino.

I closed the Book Talakayan with a jest of the “and so on and so forth”, Glenn’s inflections as a podcast co-host. Some picture-taking and book signing came after. In my mind, this quote from his other work When the World Ended I Was Thinking About The Forest resonated with the day’s book discussion, “I think what I’m trying to do is turn the uncertainty into a clearing; the terror, into a project. (A kaingin.)”

Glenn did it. Yñiga is his kaingin.

Nakakapagod na Kapangyarihan

Book Review of Ang Kapangyarihang Higit sa Ating Lahat by Ronaldo S. Vivo Jr.

Ang hirap.

Parang nanganay ako sa pagbabasa ng aklat na ito. Ganito ba talaga ang transgressive fiction? Masyadong nakakulong, at ang hirap i-ire at kumawala sa mundong ginagalawan nina Dodong, Buldan, Butsok, Marife, Myla, Atong, Jepoy at ng mga tsismosang kapitbahay na takot na takot makanti ng pulis.

Nakakatuwa lang na nadadama ko yung mapangahas na panulat ni Ronaldo Vivo at yung rigor nya sa paglikha. Na itong mismong Dreamland ay gustung-gusto na niyang isulat at ipakilala sa mundo. Nadama ko yung kawalang-tulog para mai-type at maiipon ang materyal, ang kawalang-pake sa paulit-ulit na mekanismo ng eksena ng panghahalay sa kapwa babae at lalake, ang pag-rehash ng pamamaraan ng pagpaslang at pagsisilid ng item, at kung paano niya naitagpi ang lahat at inilagay sa isang lalagyan. Nabigatan lang ako siguro dahil nasanay ako sa sensibilidad at relatability ng Bangin, at tila ayoko na rin balikan ang naging mga kwento ni Mama noong bata pa ako sa looban ng Pasay at mga gedli ng Pineda. Mahirap maging mahirap.

Nakakamangha at nakakatawa na may mga buong boses ang manunulat sa ibang mga eksena nito. Kapag narinig mo si Boss Vivo sa isang panayam, o kahit sa mga status nya sa facebook, malalaman mong sa kanya ang tinig. Ito ang halimbawa:

Ang hirap sa mga nasa posisyon, akala nila lahat ng tao ay kaya nilang ululin. Putsa, kahit mga tubong looban na hindi nasayaran ng edukasyon ang kukote, marunong ding mag-isip. Nagkataon lang na sila ang inarmasan ng gobyerno kaya ang lalakas ng loob ng mga putang ina, mga lasing sa kapangyarihan. Bawal magsabing kung anumang nasa isip, lalo kung ‘di maganda sa pandinig nila, dahil wala naman ni ga-kulangot na tutong na magandang msasabi tungkol sa kanila. Kaya ang mangyayari, mananahimik na lang kaysa tinggaan sa ulo.

Mas lalo akong natakot sa ginagalawan kong realidad dahil magsa-sampung taong gulang na ang libro, pero hindi pa rin nagbabago ang kahayupan ng kapulisan, at ang paningin sa mga maralita na parang basura lamang. Na tunay ngang ang mga nasa laylayan ang nagpapatayan habang ang mga nasa kapangyarihan ang nagpapakasasa ng kaban ng bayan.

Rank G sa Bangin

Book Review: Ang Bangin sa Ilalim ng Ating mga Paa by Ronaldo S. Vivo Jr.

“Anong rank mo?”
“Mythic na. Hindi nga lang makalampas sa 25 stars. Laging akyat-baba sa RG.”
“Aahhh.”

Tatanong-tanong tapos hindi ako isasali sa rank gaming. Qiqil.

Hanabi main ako sa ML. Marksman ang pabebe role ko kapag nase-stress ako sa trabaho at gusto kong mantrashtalk. Ginagawa kong outlet ng galit ang ML. May mga araw na kahit antok na antok na ako ay iga-grind ko pa rin ito, kahit ang mga battle points naman dito ay hindi kayang maipalit as crypto. Also, bawal rin ang sugal sa mga katulad naming banker. Baka masisante ako sa trabaho.

Mula noong pandemic lockdown, nakahiligan ko na ang abugbog berna at ganking ng ML to the point na lahat ng galit ko — mula sa trabaho, sa binabasa kong libro, sa sitwasyon ng mundo — iminumura ko sa mga bonak kong kalaro. Madalas, wala akong kasamang tank na makikisayaw sa rambol, o magti-TP man lang para mang-istir, o iikot at dadalaw sa lane ko habang nang-iipon ako ng pambili ng item para mas lalong lumakas. Lalo akong nagaglit kapag sunud-sunod ang lose streak. Kapag limang sunud-sunod, nakakagago. Mas masarap magmura. Mas masarap sabunutan ang kalarong hindi mo makikita kahit surang-sura ka na. Hanggang sa ang galit na iyon ang magpapaapoy para ituloy ang laro, at hindi ko namamalayang ninanakawan na ako ng oras ng pagtulog.

Ganitong level ng galit ang naramdaman ko habang binabasa ko ang nobela ni Bhosz Vivo mamen. Nakakagagong isinasampal sa akin na mula noong mamulat ako sa Mabangis na Lungsod ni manong Efren Abueg ay hindi pa rin nagbabago ang bulok na ugali ng mga pulis. Kung sinong dapat ang tutulong sa iyo… naku, kapag napagtrip-an ka, silang mismo ang papaslang sa iyo. Ang daming poot habang binabasa ko ang bawat galaw nito nina Rey at Benjo. Ride or die talaga ang overdrive adventure nila. Feeling ko hindi Hanabibi ang peg nito ni Rey, mas fighter siya katulad ni Aulus. Tangan-tangan ang pambihirang martilyo, nilibot niya ang mala-jungle na kamaynilaan, matunton laman ang tunay na lokasyon ng nawawalang anak na si Alison. Tapos, tank partner niya si Benjo, Belerick lang na may vengeance na battle spell. Para kapag sinaktan ang beshie, mas malakas ang kanyang ulti. Buma-bounce-back sa kalaban ang tinitira, at siguradong KS na ni Aulus. Este, ni Rey pala.

Mas damang-dama ko ang sensibilidad ng akda, kasi napuntahan ko na ang ibang mga nabanggit na lugar sa nobela: ang Brgy. Sta. Rosario na isang ilog lang ang pagitan sa Comembo, ang Overlooking view sa Antipolo, ang Mandaluyong Maysilo kung saan naroon ang mga nag-e-ML na pulis, ang Simbahan ng Pateros, at ang mapulang ilaw at mapanghing chongki-an ng Poblacion. Speaking of chongki, naisip ko na ring minsan na umupo sa gedli at sumindi ng doobie, tas kahit ang sangsang ng boga mo eh parang nagkakaroon ka ng powers tapos mapapakanta na lang ng mahiwaga, mahiwa-marijuana shotgun shotgun ganja ganja buddha buddha. Parang siguro ang sarap din maging hipster pusher na hakdog na ganda lang ang puhunan sa gimikan, tapos may sanlibo ka nang maisusuksok sa bra.

Pero feeling ko, hindi layunin ng mga akdang tulad ni Bhosz Vivo mamen ang mainggit ka sa pagiging out-of-touch na mga nilalang na katulad ni Katrina. Mas gusto niyang hamigin ang iyong konsensya sa pagpapakilala niya sa mga katulad ni Manang Belen na walang alam kundi pumalahaw ng luha at magsumbong sa kalangitan para sa hustisya ng pinaslang niyang anak, at ginawang sisidlan ng bato. Putangamang eksena yun, hindi ko na mawala sa puso ang guilt-trip malala. Rekta sa konsensya. Sa tuwing nababasa ko ang mga ganung eksena, naalala ko yung pabalang kong sagot kay Manong FSJ kung bakit ko binoto si Duterte. Sumalangit nawa ang perennial wisher ng Nobel Lauriat kineso, pero mas nahihindik ako nang marinig muli ang distant echo ng aking edgy hipster voice:

“Binoto ko sya kasi gusto kong makita ang Pinas ay nasusunog. Para Lalo tayong magalit, at sana, dito tayo magsimulang kumilos. Dala ang galit, mas kilala na natin ang malaking kalaban.”

Huli ko nang ma-realize na hindi lang isang buktot na Doturtle ang big boss. Dadaan pala tayo sa isang masalimuot na makinarya ng facebook playbook at troll farms at mind-conditioning ng kapwa pinoy, at makakasalubong natin sa social media ang mga kalamnan at diwa ni Monching na DDS forever hanggang mategi.

Inangyan, andaming bonak sa lipunan. Hindi lang sila sa ML makikita talaga. At ayoko sanang maging ganun ka. Sana, kapag makaipon-ipon ka ng kaunting pera, bilhin mo itong nobela. Umupo ka sa gedli, pagnilayan ang ika-15 kabanata:

“Kinokoronahan ang demonyo sa panahong ito at alam nilang nasa panig nila ang marami. Kapangyarihan, impluwensya, simpatya. Lunod na lunod sa saya, lasing na lasing sa ligaya. Dugo’t luha ang langis ng giyerang minamakina.”

Tangan ang galit, magsimulang magbitbit ng martilyo. Bilang kolektibo, mag-rank-up tayo.

Hindi Exotic na Kwento

Book Review of Tabaco: Tatlong Sanaysay by Niles Breis

“Yung boses mo sa panulat, ikaw na ikaw. Buo ang boses mo. Ang tanong ngayon, ano ang iyong magiging kwento?”

Dalawang beses ko pa lamang nakita si sir Niles at ito ay dahil lamang sa pagbabalik-loob ko sa Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books book club ngayong taon. Ang mga ganitong minsanan ay nagagawi sa inuman at kultura, kasama ng mga kinagisnan at karanasan sa pagiging mambabasa at manunulat. Nang first time kong narinig ang pangalan niya sa mga kapwa miyembro, hindi ko pa nakikita yung kanyang mga akda. Binigyan ako ng sample / excerpt ng Rubrica, isang collection ng mga tula na hindi ko maintindihan, siguro dahil hindi ako batikan sa paglikha nito.

Sa ikalawang salubong ko sa kanyang gawa, nakita ko itong Tabaco na tangan-tangan ni Jayson na naglalaman ng mga sanaysay, at sa hindi ko mawaring dahilan, medyo nainggit ako dahil sa kakaibang mga paksang naglalaman nito. Ganito rin ang inggit na nararamdaman ko sa tuwing nakakabasa ako ng mga kalipunan ng sanaysay sa mga nagdaang Palanca awardees. Natatanong ko rin kung may karapatan pa ba akong magkwento? Kasi unang-una, hindi naman exotic ang mga naranasan ko. Walang urban legend sa barangay ko, walang matandang buruka o kumander nognog, hindi rin naman ako pumasok sa isang seminaryo, at sobrang sheltered ako sa aking public elementary and high school.

Exotic bang maituturing ang isang baklang baliw sa Talipapa ng Pembo na pinangalanan kong Alejandro (sa aking isip) dahil minsang sinigawan akong, “Ako ang dakilang Lady Gaga!”? Hindi ko nga mailaban yun sa kwentong Tawi-tawi ni Atom Araullo eh, lalo na sa mga kwentong Some People Need Killing ni Pat Evangelista. Anu’t-anuman, parang nagiging tila ordinaryo na ang araw-araw kong danas. At kahit hindi naman talaga maipupulis ang sariling danas, ay nahihirapan akong itagpi at itahi ito bilang isang kwentong magkakaroon ng panawagan sa pagbabago.

Pero kailangan bang laging may panawagan sa isang sanaysay? Hindi ba pwedeng isang pagbabalik-tanaw ito sa isang nakaraan at magtala ng kasaysayan? Ganito kasi ang vibes ni sir Niles sa kanyang mga sanaysay. Hindi naman talaga kailangan parating may panawagan. Ang mahalaga, naihulma ng iyong tinig ang hugis, at amoy, at ang pakiramdam ng mundong kinagalawan mo noon. Isang pagtatala ng nakaraan na hindi mawawala sa iyo, lalo na’t alam nating mapaglaro rin ang ating mga alaala.

Nagulat ako sa librong naging tangan-tangan ko na biglang naluma kakabulatlat at kakahanap ng mga danas na exotic o kakaiba, pero kung tutuusin, hindi masyado kaiba ang kanyang mga kwento. Nagkataon lang ang lahat ng danas nya ay tungkol sa bayan ng Tabaco, pero hindi lang sya ang kilala kong pumasok ng seminaryo (at lumabas), o nakakilala ng mataray na matandang laging nag-iisa. Ang nakakaaliw at nakakaganda ng mga kwento ay kung paano niya ito isulat, at ano ang naging konteksto noong unang panahon. Naging tangible para sa akin yung rehistro nya ng bicolano at tagalog bilang promdi, kakarampot na pag-iingles (na maaaring naisulat bago sumikat ang blogging at facebook), at ang machong boses (na minsan kinaiiritahan ko as a #teata, char).

Siguro ito yung gusto nya makita rin sa magiging akda ko, kung paano ilalapat ang isang kwentong nakaka-relate ang kahit sino, pero may boses at rehistrong akong-ako, at walang makakagaya nito. Siguro, next time na yung panawagan sa pagpapataas ng antas ng panitikan, kasi hindi naman ako batikang kwentista. Nagsisimula pa nga lang ako, bibigyan agad ng pressure? Eh di malamang, tatalikuran ko iyan at babalik sa pagbabasa.

Pero hindi, gusto ko ring maging kwentista tulad nila.

439

Book Review of Suóng: Mga Aporismo ng Paglusong at Pagsulong by Gerome Nicolas Dela Peña

Isa sa mga naging goal ko ngayong taon ay simulan ang pagtanim ng pagkakakilanlan sa mundo ng panulat. At maging intentional ang pagbabasa. Magkaroon ng clinical eye, kung baga. Matagal ko nang ginagawa itong mga sanaysay pero nakalagak lang sa aking website. Hopefully, lalong lumakas ang loob na itong ilimbag at ipakita sa madla.

Nang mabili ko ito sa nakaraang Philippine Book Festival at mapapirma ko ito kay Gerome, bigla syang nagtanong, “From 1 to 500, pumili ka ng paboritong number.”

Sagot ko, “439”. Isang prime number, isang alaala ng pag-iisa.

Nang mabuksan nya ang libro, sinabi nya sa akin:

Sana tulad noong bata, kahit gaano ka habulin ng problema, pwedeng taym pers muna.

Very apt, koya. Tila ba’y nagmamadali sa pinangako sa sarili (ngayong taon).

Dalawa ang atake ng pagbabasa nitong Suong: Mga Aporismo ng Paglusong at Pagsulong. Pwede mong basahin nang isang upuan, o pwede mo syang berso sa araw-araw buong taon (actually, lampas pa, 500 verses eh). Pinili ko ang una kasi ganito ang balak kong gawin since 2016 – ipunin ang lahat ng tweet ng galit at gawin itong maikling manual ng pagtitimpi. Or mga sipat ng kapararakang lokohan sa mga naging lalake kong hindi nila alam kung boyfriend ko ba sila. Pero muli’t muli, naunahan na naman ako sa istilo ng pag-iipon ng tweets. Nagsimula si Egay nito nakaraang pandemic lockdowns sa kanyang Hindi Tayo Tinuturuan Kung Paano Hindi na Magmahal, tapos nakita ko itong Suong na naging finalist sa nakaraang National Book Awards ng NBDB.

Napadpad ako sa mga kwentong hugot, at mga sawing pakiramdam ng pag-ibig, patungo sa ligaya at lungkot ng pag-iisa, patungo sa manaka-nakang self-help ala Mark Manson. And for some reason, trigger na trigger ako sa mga minsanang sapak ng utos. Kung ako sa inyo, mas magaan kung gawin ninyong random ang pagbabasa nito, lalo na’t kung punung-puno ang utak at ang EQ sa araw-araw na bugbog ng hanapbuhay; kung ayaw nyong makaranas ng samu’t-saring damdamin na nakakabaliw sa isang bagsak ng magdamagan. Siguro, pwede itong basahin katulad ng pakikinig sa mahabang discography ng favorite mong Tay-tay (bilang Swiftie).

May munti lang akong hiling, lalo na sa 8letters na naglimbag nito:
1. Sana nai-recode ito as actual tweet. Kunyaring screenshot. Madali lang siguro mag-CSS lalo na kung ang mismong copyeditor at publisher ay mulat sa Myspace.
2. Sana ang pag-spine ay matibay-tibay. Yung kopya ko kasi medyo bumibigay yung gitna. Lalo na’t ang hilig ko sa marginalia. Or siguro, ganito ako sumipat ng akda, barumbada. Medyo binubulatlat ko talaga bawat pahina para makasulat sa taas, o sa gitna o sa gilid. At may minsanang drama rin ng pag-upload sa IG Story tapos ita-tag ko ang may-akda.

Siguro nga’y binasa ko ito nang may pagmamadali, o maaaring may bahid ng paghahanap ng mali. Hindi ko rin buong masabi, kasi sa isang banda, kinaiinisan ko ang aking sarili na naungusan na naman akong muli — lalung-lalo na sa lakas ng loob kung paano ilalapat ang lahat sa panulat. Pero nailikom ng aklat na ito ang aking danas sa araw-araw na pagharap sa personal na buhay at sa sanlaksang Kamaynilaang kinagagalawan. In one of the discussions with Jessie, I asked him, “Ano na ba talaga ang ambag nating mga millenial?” Kasi kung tutuusin, hindi tayo mulat sa Call to Action, kasi unang-una pa lang, hindi tayo pinalaki sa Collective Action ng ating magulong 3rd world na bayan. Puno tayo ng isla, watak na watak mula sa rehistro ng wika, pulitika, at mga personal na danas at pakikibaka.

Tapos randomly, nakita ko itong tweet verse 371 ni Gerome:

Wala nang mas hihigit pa sa kababaihang nagagamit ang kanilang tinig para sa ikakabuti ng bayan.

Baka nga ang misyon ko bilang isang moderator na babae ng aming bookclub ay maging tagatala ng mga mabilisang saglit na karanasan sa aming social media, tagalathala ng mga sentimyento sa nababasang aklat, at pag-abot ng lahat ng iniisip at dinadama mula sa manlilikha patungo sa taong willing na magkonsumo nito. Kaya kayo-kayo, lapitan nyo si Gerome, subukan ang kanyang Suong, at pwedeng sa isang raw, pumili kayo ng random number from 1-500.

At sana, ang piliin nyo ay yung divisible by 2.

A Moment of Gold

Book Review of The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone by Olivia Laing

I don’t believe the cure for loneliness is meeting someone, not necessarily. I think it’s about two things: learning how to befriend yourself and understanding that many of the things that seem to afflict us as individuals are in fact a result of larger forces of stigma and exclusion, which can and should be resisted. Loneliness is personal, and it is also political. Loneliness is collective; it is a city.

Unlike Olivia Laing, I live in one of the Enlisted Men’s Barrios of Makati. I walk everyday to-and-fro my workplace: #TheBank situated in one of the towers of Bonifacio Global City (BGC).

I wish to digress about my ways of opening connections via online and offline, and how I do this while traversing the most gentrified business district of Manila as of late, and how expensively insulated this concrete community is. I wish to give a warning about this SG-citylike sans the efficient commute, and how this concrete jungle is not only filled with deafened dreams, but also filled with realizations and ruminations of my healing heart with bits of profanities whilst walking and having loony conversations with my midnight therapist, memes and IG reels combined.

BGC isn’t exactly like New York. There maybe rats, but they are lurking outside the district, resurfacing in the EMBOs around it. BGC is filled with working class who do not get to enjoy themselves at their breaktimes, thanks to the expensive bistros and limited benches and greenery. There’s also no library, so if I wish to read, you have to locate a gentrified space and pray that there will be no rain for the day. This concrete jungle adds to the loneliness we feel as inhabitants of it. Together with the expounding rise of sibuyas and bigas, it aggravates our need to be in a community of affordable living, or at least a collective ground to air our grievances.

In my Saturday self-care regimes I do walk the city in an introspecting pace, lurking the side streets, people watching. Sometimes, breathing the vibe of stillness in the empty spaces. In a way, I see the street art in its walls, simply being there, or maybe waiting. Just like Olivia mentioning about the gloomy character of NYC, she explains how people cope via their creations. She mentioned Edward Hooper, Andy Warhol, and, in a vast majority, David Wojnarowicz and his activism through the AIDS epidemic. And through these people who breathed loneliness bring a hope to cope, or maybe an opium of attention, for us to know ourselves more, and finally, to give courage to start a connection.

Last Chinese New Year eve, I was looking for a vacant bench to eat my salad and read some more and after a long walk of getting out of a congested High Street, there’s a newly-filled community of expatriates who live in a posh two (or three?) bedroom condo complex. One Meridien Tower houses expats with their little kids, some AFAMs and their wives, and mostly caters bistros filled with working-class Filipinos in bikes, grab food, and what-have-you. All benches are filled, except for one who is occupied by a tired man blankly staring the newly-opened store in gold.

I said hi to him and seated across him, and we had conversations about livelihood, reading, writing, and him being on his precious break time. At first I was annoyed; he keeps accommodating me even though all I wanted was to eat and read. And then after that small talk and me eating in the next 10minutes, I looked back at him and he was stealing sleep.

He was talking to me because he was battling the antok. And I was looking at the newly-opened store, testing the density of the instagrammers, the kids ranting about May wifi po ba kuya?, and the Titas of Manila drinking spanish wine with their amigas. I looked at him feeling the pity, and when he opened his eyes he jolted at me and sheepishly said sorry for I was caught looking at him. Told him that I know the feeling, for we are the same. We are both part of the working class in the concrete jungle — I was just five floors higher. #TheBank

More of Q-and-A here-and-there, and before he stepped out of the bench, he gave me the store’s sample chocolate — the one with the 42%. I said my thanks, but as part of my overthinking spree, I was wondering if he has read Douglas Adams, or if he’s into high fantasy books when he jested “You know that 42 is the answer to everything.”

I know, I read Hitchiker’s Guide.

Be it his way to reconnect or not (in the future), I kind of understand Olivia’s excerpt when she wrote “Sometimes, all you need is a PERMISSION TO FEEL.”

Maybe with all these problematic things in our lives, all we need is to feel… To finally heal.

Solidaridad Soledad Soliman Solosolosol

Book Review of Gun Dealers’ Daughter: A Novel by Gina Apostol

Wow, my reading experience is an adventure!!!

I was tasked to moderate Gina’s another novel, The Revolution According to Raymundo Mata, but since that book is more confusing and more tricky (with its literary styles), I tried searching for her other works in linear form. After her short story in Manila Noir, this came as another alternative. Bibliolepsy, meanwhile is to be re-released next year, by Soho Press.

But then again, this book is not really straight-forward. It composed of puns, reiterating moments, scenes going around in circles, and ending scene with a carousel, taking the circular trip literally and figuratively. The book is about Soledad Soliman and her world revolving around the Alta-de-sociedad of the 70s, with the dictator & his wife on cameo, the latter singing Dandansoy and flexing her aesthetic tastes in music and art. Her parents, Frankie and Queenie, are those visionary businessmen who provides military might, via gun trade. They have a beshie who used to do gangster moves – Uncle Gianni, the soltero who helped Sol recuperate in Europe.

Reading the first part is hard for me, not engaging at times. It only kicked off when she started narrating her piece of story, at around chapter 6. After surviving the first 5 chapters with its confusing POVs, the plot started kicking in. It is not fast-paced, there are parts that circulate. Pages that ruminates. Lines being repeated, or words being reiterated. I liked its lyrical appeal. Also, some scenes are really memorable. The long queue of limousines at CCP because the audiences do not walk, the Philippine Insurgency medallion stirred over a coffee, and the fantasy of Sol and Jed doing the deed while stealing guns.

The ending is not like an action film, but rather an update of these Martial Law babies, and it seemed rather unattached to its full-circle effect. But sometimes this is how our stories play in our mind: sometimes intense, but mostly detached.

I suggest that GenZ should really read this to get our of their petit-bourgeois fantasies and really get a grasp of how the Pinoy society works, especially now that our social climate gets to its primitive dog-eat-dog realm.

The Quiet Made Some Noise

A Book Talakayan of Glenn Diaz’s The Quiet Ones

This is the First Draft of the Book Discussion log for the Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books #BookTalakayan that happened last July 21, 2018.

It was out of the PRPB monthly routine, the event was the third Saturday rather than the first. And, it was the author’s last hurrah, before flying out to the land down under. Last July 21, in the middle of the rain, flood and traffic, we conducted the Book Talakayan with Glenn Diaz. We found our safe haven in SGD Coffee in UP Teacher’s Village, Quezon City.

Usual events first took place – introducing oneself, what do you do in life, and what is your favorite part of the book. In a circle of more than 15 participants, the common favorite was this:

“We are the City! What is a city without inhabitants? Nothing but plants and hills and rivers. Or flood plains and esteros… The city is not a place. It is a social arrangement. Defined by concession. By consensus. It is us. A city ends when there are no longer people to define it.”

This striking quote is a birthplace of multiple short stories created as sub-plots, and remapping the interweaving narratives of Glenn’s first novel The Quiet Ones. As I asked where this work started, he zeroed in to Kilometer Zero, his short story of a Filipino and an American Anthropologist who wanted to write about Manila, coming from a foreigner’s point of view.

Glenn claims he’s Manilenyo, born and grew up in Sta. Mesa, with Ilocano parents. For us who have read the book through and through, this explains the alluring noise of Manila, and its stark contrast with the disturbing peace of Pagudpud. He does his research not as intently as I thought it would be, for he is not like the writers I imagined (those who do the mind-map and tried to bleed out the ideas from shelled-out themes).

For me, he broke the current tropes of poverty porn by creating a white noise in the daily lives of the Pinoys. By the novel more humane, he actually made bus routes, LRT tracks, and the concrete pavements of the Ayala Business District immersive and alluring – creating romance in the mundane. It was an effort, he says. “Let’s demystify writing, it takes hours of labor to put it into a piece of work.” Elaborating the unlearning, he says he desynthesized the angsty tones in his young working student years (he used to be a work in People Support from 2005-2007), making the familiar places more sentimental. He sees his former workplace with a nostalgic tone – the Lung Center, Paydays and American Holidays and Pecha de peligo – that he even thought that this phase will delay his graduation to finally get a move on with life.

The discussion were a bit disjointed; like the novel itself, series of questions were not made in linear form, but instead, it is a traverse between multiple moments, interjecting personal questions in between. Let’s say, more of probing the author himself. Instead of continuously reflecting into the quiet, it oftentimes got escalated with the [Questions of the Tita], triggering bluntness and candor in snippets of serious questions.

And the noises came in.

In a series of candid questions – reflecting on the romantic moments between Carolina and Reynaldo, Philip and Eric, Alvin and Scott – these subplots with partnered characters is a work of fiction. I see it as a staple statement to veer away more personal questions, but to be able to write a female perspective is his way of channeling Lorrie Moore. And actually, seeing himself as Carolina. He did say about an old couple he saw in Pagudpud. Perhaps, it also gave an inspiration to create a female character and a summer romance with build-up tensions at the end of the chapter.

In discussing the Palanca stint, he actually did not expect it to win. He just wrote the novel to get the project done, made an impulse decision (more of #YOLO) to submit it for Palanca Awards, and actually won without any backups, or so-called politicality of it all. He has this look that he doesn’t want his work to be tagged in the words of “Palanca Winner”; more of he was happy if he hears about a reader raving reviews without the knowledge about the award-giving body.

Calisthenic writing, is there such a thing in The Quiet Ones?

He says the first chapter itself is a writing exercise. He wanted to challenge himself if he can write an action-filled part, focusing more on the plot rather than the character’s stream of consciousness. But alas, it cannot maintain it’s consistency. I guess, it is more of his buying in to the readers to get engaged before immersing. In addition, having WE as the first-person-plural point of view is an observation from the creative writers and readers alike – and he says it is not him being part of an equation (i.e. Alvin + Glenn Diaz), but rather, it is a collective term for The Workforce.

Marie meanwhile, as an omnipresent character throughout the novel was not a writing exercise, not even an intention to create tangent points with the characters across the novel. She is the missing link, but Glenn emphasized that it was our insight in seeing that way. She used to have her own chapter, but in the end removed. For me, she represented the essence of a person sans the spotlight; like an old friend who was always there, waiting.

After closing the book discussion, I personally have a renewed love-hate relationship with Manila. Perhaps if I look at Kilometer Zero again, I might see a ghost of a Scott saying “Mahal na mahal mo itong lungsod, ano…?”