Oh, February. No time in the year can make someone assess the relationships in his or her life than in the so-called month of love. For me, the best way to celebrate February is to read a couple of books (of course!). These two anthologies focus on being human. And being human, it seems, consists of interacting with fellow humans. That can result to good things, bad things, pleasurable things, painful things, and stranger still - strange because this is where most humans naturally gravitate - a messed-up mixture of all four .

The first book is The Means of Escape, Penelope Fitzgerald's last, published posthumously. I had been a fan of Ms. Fitzgerald ever since I've read The Bookshop. I like the elegance of her language, and the deliberateness of her words. I had often wondered how long (how many revisions, changes, editing) did it took to write what A.S. Byatt, in her introduction called her "discreet, brief, perfect tales". I'm not so sure if I can call them truly perfect, but they very much seem to be. What I love about her stories is that they cannot be spoiled. You see, I like knowing the plot of a book first before plunging into it. If the book has interesting characters, good writing, and development that is not heavily dependent on the plot, I will probably still enjoy it to the bits despite knowing the story. While Ms. Fitzgerald's stories have interesting plots, it is the astuteness of her observations of the human heart and its interaction with fate that are the crux of her tales, and what ultimately made her stories brilliant. 

The stories in The Mean of Escape are that - studies of the sensibilities and absurdities of human behavior, as well as about the natural order and randomness of our lives. There are stories about morality ("The Prescription", "The Red Haired Girl","Our Lives Are Only Lent to Us"), while some are about social judgments ("The Means of Escape", "Not Shown","The Likeness"). There are mysteries ("Desideratus","Beehernz"), light hearted ones ("At Hiruharama"), and even a zombie tale ("The Axe"). My favorite stories are "The Means of Escape" (who is escaping from where?), "The Red Haired Girl" (kindness can save lives literally), and "Our Lives are Only Lent to Us" (so maddeningly Catholic, so maddeningly Filipino).

The second book is Tony Perez's Cubao Midnight Express: Mga Pusong Nadiskaril sa Mahabang Riles ng Pag-ibig. It is part of his Cubao trilogy. The other one is Cubao Pagkagat ng Dilim: Mga Kwentong Kababalaghan, which I've read in college in between required readings for PI 100 (Life and Works of Jose Rizal) in the basement of the UP Main Library. I had loved Pagkagat ng Dilim for all the dread that it had gave me, and it had been in my wishlist ever since. The third one is Eros, Thanatos, Cubao: Mga Piling Katha, which I had never seen.

Cubao Midnight Express is about love. Not the “normal” one with a normal start and normal endings (i.e. the stuff romance pocketbooks are made of), but those that are unconventional. These are stories of “hearts that are derailed by the long train tracks of love” (gosh, I really suck at translating :-P). 

Some of the stories are about people who become twisted because of failed love (the “First Trip” stories: “Tipanan” (Meeting) and “Pamamanhikan” (Courtship)). Some are stories about the absurdities resulting from people's search for love, sex, or both (the “Second Trip” stories: “Basted” (Busted), “Kaisplit” (Best Buds), and “Katalo” (Match)). And some are tragedies, as some love stories are wont to be, not just because it is eccentric or forbidden (“Balani” (Magnet), “Relasyon” (Relation)) because sometimes, even regular love will lead to a devastating heartbreak (“Ligaw” (can either mean ‘Wooing’ or ‘Lost’), and the story that distraught me the most, “Kirot” (Pain)).

Like Ms. Fitzgerald, Mr. Perez is also very much adept with his words. But unlike the former's elegance, Mr. Perez's language is gritty, grimy, and disturbing, like his muse, Cubao-by-night (to differentiate from her garish and commercial alter-ego, Cubao-by-day). We can see this adeptness in the repeating, disquieting chorus of "Pamamanhikan", the torturous English of "Basted", the colorful curses of "Katalo", and the empty idioms of "Relasyon". But my favorite story is his one of his more simple tales. As told in the point of view of a dog, "Kirot" tells of a love that is simple but true, unending and loyal - qualities that made the inevitable heartbreak so much more painful. But a dog does not know that he is heartbroken, only that he vaguely know that something is frightfully missing. The stories in the anthology, is like that - alarming in one form or the other, but each is beautiful in its own way.

  

|

My visit to this year's Manila International Book Fair is a restrained affair compared to the last few years.

My overall loot is just five titles

I bought locally published books for this year's haul. This was purely coincidental, as all five titles are tangential buys. The only book I had in my to-buy list is Tolstoy's Anna Karenina (for my book club's online discussion; I didn't find a copy though).

My first buys were from the UP Press:

Presenting America, Encountering the Philippines is a compilation of Fulbright lectures from American literature scholar Gerald Burns, on different literary and cultural topics relating to the Philippines, the US, or both. First impression is that it's like a more academic Pacific Rims, one that will probably give me nosebleeds. Target reading schedule: This year, after or while Howl's Moving Castle. Would be a nice complementary read before or while tackling Noli Me Tangere  for the December's discussion.

Memo Mulang Gimokudan: Aklat ng Tulang Tuluyan is a prose-poem collection from National Artist for Literature Virgilio Almario (or if you prefer his pen name, Rio Alma). I bought this because of the beautiful language. Target reading schedule: None. One must digest this unrushed. Best read during quiet times, and while in transit (will be placing this in my backpack, until well worn).

From Anvil:

Sarap Pinoy: Mga Lutuing Pilipino by The Maya Kitchen Culinary Arts Center is a promising addition to my cook books. What I like about the recipes is that they are straightforward (no strange ingredients, no cuisine fusion of any kind). Plus, every entry has notes on the different regional/cultural takes of the same recipe. I found the addendum very useful, especially if I'm going to cook for visitors. Best of all, I love it that the book is in Filipino (I don't know if it's just me, but I find most Filipino recipes written in English confusing and awkward). Target reading schedule: None. I'll read as I cook along, and I intend to cook every recipe in the book.

From Tahanan books:

Three copies of the Super Boboy Adventures booklet for my three nephews. I bought them a copy each last year but they misplaced it somewhere. Too bad the sequels aren't available too.

Inside Manila with Kids: A Travel Companion for Parents by Didith Tan Rodrigo and illustrated by Robert Aguinaldo seems to be a nice little travelogue. I bought it to see if I can compare it with another Metro Manila travelogue I reviewed last year. It seems to be a good Christmas gift to expats or balikbayans who are planning to travel to the Philippines. Target reading schedule: Maybe next year. I'm assuming that the book will prompt me to visit the places listed in the book, and I'm anticipating that I'll have more free time next year.

|

Fourteen Love Stories - Jose Dalisay Jr. & Angelo R. Lacuesta (editors)
Fiction; ISBN 971-542-412-0; Flipside Publishing, University of the Philippines Press; 2004.

"Which is why, perhaps, the love story is a strange affair. As affairs go, there are good ones and bad ones, the ones we forget and the ones we remember, over and over again. But the well-written love story is an enigma, a strange beauty. Like any story, a path is laid out, but like any affair, the outcome of that journey depends on many circumstances. One reads it and wonders how and why it works, why one is unspeakably drawn to an obscure unknown. One relishes it while it is being discovered, uncovered, but knows with absolute certainty it will end."

I'm glad that the editors of Fourteen Love Stories chose to present the stories chronologically because this gave me a chance to appreciate the changing regard of Filipinos on love and relationships over the decades. But in the end, I can't help but group the stories according to what I'd felt about them (not a good way to review a book, I know, but I'm not aiming for a proper critique =P).

The first group are the ones I had appreciated and enjoyed like artworks in a museum. Indeed, I found myself connecting some stories to certain artists: "Dead Stars" is Luna's "Tampuhan", "Midsummer" is a sensual Amorsolo,"Wedding Dance" reminds me of Botong Francisco's murals, "Tanabata's Wife", to Bencab's sculptures, and Polotan's "The Virgin" to a Manansala jeepneyscape.

I very much enjoyed reading this next group because they reminded me of friends or people I know. This lot includes Ford's "Love in the Cornhusks" (reminded me of one of my parent's kasambahay), Gonzales' "Breathe" and de Jesus' "In Her Country" (a college friend), Fres-Felix's "Alma" (my boss' mistress), and Cordero-Fernando's "The Dust Monster" (a book club friend).

Not surprisingly, the two stories I've identified with  the most were those by writers of my generation. Sitoy's "Weight" is about the subtle pressures of life that chips away one's idealism. It also made me miss the Quezon City of my college and post-graduate life, as well as the naive enthusiasm I had then. My favorite story in the anthology is Katigbak's "Passengers". It is a story of love and loss, told through bus rides. I connected with a lot of things: the girl's fondness of commuting in dingy buses, the narrator's horror of being a new driver stuck in the hellroad called EDSA with suicidal bus drivers, Metro Manila bus routes, the 'techno-dreck' which are the official soundtrack of these buses, and even that infinite parallel universe thing.

There were two I couldn't relate that well: Melvin's "A Normal Life" and Villanueva's "How Could You Smile". The latter is a story of infidelity, something I had no personal or familial experience. The former is about a love affair between an older, more sophisticated woman and and a much younger man. I don't really know what to feel about these two stories. Do I sympathize? Or maybe abhor? But I still enjoyed reading them, though with a certain detachment.

Considering that the wealth of Filipino stories written in English spanned eight decades, I’m amazed that the editors, Butch Dalisay & Sarge Lacuesta managed to choose only fourteen stories. That they limited the pick to only those about romantic love probably didn’t help much, as the Filipino is race that is in love with Love – one just have to flip the local channels or browse through the thousands of Pinoy romance pocketbooks to realize that. But chose they did, and they chose well. 

|

Street-Bound: Manila on Foot - Josefina P. Manahan

Non-Fiction, Travel; ISBN 971-27-1135-9; Anvil Publishing, 2001.

(Thank you to Anvil Publishing for my complimentary copy. Thank you to Honeylein de Peralta for coordinating this. :))

(Disclaimer: In this review, I’m going to use the word ‘walk’ in every way possible, in the acceptable form as noun and verb, but also as adjective and adverb. Microsoft Word tells me that it’s grammatically wrong. So sue me.)

In Street-Bound: Manila on Foot, Mrs. Josefina Manahan asserts that Metro Manila is a walkable metropolis. Yes, despite the dust, noise, heat, speeding vehicles, and carbon monoxide poisoning. And indeed, up to a certain point, I agree with her. So lower your eyebrows for a moment, please.

Like Mrs. Manahan, I do walking tours within Metro Manila too: sometimes with friends, and sometimes alone. But many of these are haphazard travels (especially the ones I do by myself), often without plans and often requiring asking for directions. This in particular is why I find Street-Bound pretty useful. She organized the walks in such a way that next time I can go from one spot to the next in a more systematic manner.

But there are also tours in Mrs. Manahan’s book that I haven’t done, mostly because I didn’t have the time, but also because I wasn’t aware of the potential walkability of the place. For every tour entry, she neatly arranged the information into the following: type of tour, duration, sights, what to wear, background, how to get there, the different sights, and the map of the place. There’s also one or two delightful pictures of what one might expect to see in that tour (the maps and pictures were illustrated wonderfully by one Ms. Joanne de Leon – kudos!).

The best walking tour entry in the book (for me anyway) is the Rizal Park walking tour(s). Mrs. Manahan realized that one cannot see everything in just one day so she thoughtfully divided the sights in two tours: the first one is touring the park itself, starting at the Halamanang Pilipino and Philippine relief map from Taft Avenue, all the way to the Quirino Grandstand, to see the famous Manila Bay sunset; the second one is touring the museums dotting the park, from the National Library up to the Museo ng Maynila near Roxas Boulevard. The first one I did a lot with my family when I was a kid; the second one, I’m chagrined to admit, I haven’t done yet but I’m promising to do this year.

(My friends Edrose & Joseph, looking lost in Plaza Miranda, Quiapo when
we did a Quiapo-Binondo walking tour last year.)

Sadly, Street-Bound badly needs to be updated because I believe that some of the tours have become slightly irrelevant. Partly because a lot of tourist spots have deteriorated, disappeared, or changed completely in the past nine years since the book was published (take for example, Greenbelt Park which is barely a park anymore). Some, I think, are a bit redundant; there are new and even old /tours that are better representative of that type (for example, I think Divisoria is a better market tour place than Kamuning Market). Some tours I also believe that would be better grouped together into a single tour – for example, the tours around the Quezon Memorial Circle would have been better done in one go.

So anyway, even if it’s outdated, the book is still pretty handy if you’re going to do walking tours in Metro Manila, just be prepared to be a bit disappointed. It’s probably going to be awesome if they brought it up to date, as well as add more tours. I suggest adding the CCP complex, Chinese Cemetery, Ayala Triangle, Divisoria, and La Mesa Ecopark. Plus, Rizal Park is currently undergoing renovations; better to update the Rizal Park entry in parallel with that. I do urge Anvil to do it soon, as Filipinos, especially the younger generation, are becoming more conscious and appreciative of our glorious but slowly vanishing heritage.

|

Letras y Figuras: Business in Culture, Culture in Business – Jaime C. Laya

Non-Fiction, Culture, History, Slice-of-Life, Filipiniana; ISBN 971-27-1143-9; Anvil Publishing, 2001.

(Thank you to Anvil Publishing for my complimentary copy. Thank you to Honeylein de Peralta for coordinating this. :))

“Ordinary people live through all these grand events, against the broad sweep of history. Their names do not appear in history books, but theirs was the labor (and much of the money) that built churches and convents, roads and public works… With all of these, one can say that a town’s history can be viewed through the eyes of its residents who were players in the events of the past.”

There is not one genre to firmly categorize Jaime Laya’s compilation of essays, Letras y Figuras, except perhaps under that rather too-encompassing word, Filipiniana. While he had roughly organized his articles in six chapters (Times & Places; Rituals & Celebrations; Past & Present; Artists & Craftsmen; Possessions; and People, Words & Numbers), the essays’ topics are very diverse. Many are about history, but there are also some about culture, about places, about people – let’s just say about everything that is Filipino. But some are also autobiographical; there are vignettes about the author’s life, his work, his hobbies, and even his ideas. It’s hard to believe that these multi-faceted pieces were written by a cut-and-dried accountant and businessman (although a very successful one) and, if one believes the blurb, a hobbist that only dabbles on the culture and arts in his spare time.

Although I ought not to, it is difficult to resist comparing his historical essays with my other favorite historian, Ambeth Ocampo. While Ambeth Ocampo writes history with the gossipy pizzazz of a teacher (which he is) that deftly knows how to grab today’s attention-deficient generation away from their cellphones, iPods and laptops, Jaime Laya writes history like a grandfather (the look-at-my-mole grandpa from a Bear Brand commercial in the 80s comes into my mind) who feigns exasperation and finally sits down to weave the stories of a younger, cleaner Philippines to his delighted grandchildren. This translates into the most entertaining and assorted Filipiniana trivia and miscellany I’ve ever read outside of an Ambeth Ocampo book. My favorite one is an entry about how people relieve themselves during the Spanish times and up to the turn of the century - apparently ladies, did the deed, when necessary and hidden under their saya (and need I say, free from any frilly impediments too?), standing up. Gross and tacky, yes, but it’s not something that Agoncillo or Zaide would insert in their texts, so I like it.

The heroes of Mr. Laya’s essays are the ones taken for granted: the common folk unwritten in books, the places and locations now ignored and suffocating in pollution and urban blight, the ordinary people’s rituals, traditions and heritages that are now slowly vanishing. The pieces almost lack the usual dramatis personae – Rizal, Bonifacio, Aguinaldo – except via passing mentions. Mr. Laya did feature known historical art personalities such as Luna, Hidalgo, Amorsolo, as well as a few lesser known artists such as Damian Domingo and Ang Kuikok. It is as expected, considering his work in various cultural, artistic and historical organizations, museums and collections. The pieces about bahay na bato and other traditional houses were delightful, and were begging to be read while touring that new historical resort in Bagac, Bataan (Las Casas Filipinas de Acuzar is the name, according to Google).

(Image: Malacanang of the North, Paoay, Ilocos Norte)

Indeed, the initial impression I’ve got reading the first chapter is that of a travelogue. His footnotes in his Intramuros and Malacañang essays inform us that these are abridged versions of lengthier guidebooks (of which I’m now hunting). The book is best read while traveling - I imagine myself consulting the essay in Malacañang, while walking from door to door of that palace (barring rooms unauthorized to the public, of course).

Perhaps Anvil can release two further editions of the book? The first one is an illustrated version, in full color, perhaps into one of those pricey coffee-table books (I’ll probably see it in a bookstore and then sigh in yearning). But the version I’ll appreciate more is of a pocketbook size, as I had decided to include in my new year resolution making time to (re)visit and (re)experience those places and celebrations mentioned in his articles.

His personal essays were the most lyrical. While the piece about his childhood home in Sta. Cruz was very vivid, my favorite is a short one about his wife, titled “A Valentine Story”, as this woke the romantic in me:

“The wind was in her hair, he remembers, as he pointed to the city, the bay and the ocean far below a high ridge. In the flood of his memories are a swan on a quiet pond, a balustraded terrace on a misty hillside, a meadow at dusk moments after a festival of fairies, startled, had fled, scattering millions of little white flowers in their haste. Later, in the chill of the evening, he could not tell where the city lights ended and the stars began.”

Needless to say, I highly recommend you read this book. It is my best book for 2010.

|

Slow Food: Philippine Culinary Traditions – Erlinda Enriquez Panlilio & Felice Prudente Sta. Maria (editors)
Non-fiction, Food & culture, Filipiniana; ISBN 971-1594-9; Anvil, Manila: 2005.

The slow food movement was first established in Italy as a reaction to the burgeoning rise of fast foods in the 80s. According to the wikipedia, the movement aims to "preserve the cultural cuisine and the associated food plants and seeds, domestic animals, and farming within an ecoregion." It had spread to the Philippines with the help of the esteemed Doreen G. Fernandez, who had sadly died before the first official Manila Convivium (a sosy term for Slow Food organization's local branch) had been established. The book was written to convey to people the need to preserve our traditional culinary culture and heritage - regional dishes fills one with pride and homesickness, heirloom recipes, no-shortcut cooking, and food prepared from scratch and only with the finest ingredients. The book has three parts: the first part, "No Shortcuts" comprise of essays on heirloom recipes and familial culinary heritages; the second is called "True to Traditions" and is about regional customs and food; finally the third part is "Tastes of Times", about seasonal food and the changing food traditions of the old amidst this new era.

In between a hot cup of fruit-infused tea & a bottle of Bugnay wine

I bought the book (fittingly) in the culturally significant Vigan, in between getting myself a taste of their famous empanadas and rushing to join my group in Cafe Leonora. I've read most of the first part in the back of a van in the last leg of our Ilocos trip - thus making me regret not buying some tinubog or sukang Ilocos. In fact, before this book I was blissfully unaware of the culinary heritage that surrounded me all my life. Now, I like to think of myself as a semi-Bulakena and semi-Manilenya, plus some liberal dash of Bisaya (courtesy of my Cebuano dad and Ilonga mom) in the mix.

My favorite part of the book is the second one. It made me conscious of those that I had been taking for granted - for example, those bite-size puto that I love to buy from the lola in the Karuhatan market before traveling back to Makati is actually known as putong Polo (Polo being the former name of my hometown of Valenzuela). An essay on Ilonggo food made me remember my first trip to Iloilo with my mom - one of my best memories was of batchoy, when she brought me to La Paz market for my first taste of the soup (I can honestly say that I haven't found any batchoy within the Metro that can compare with that bowlful). And my favorite essay is on Pangalay food (hmm, shouldn't this be spelled as "Pang-alay"?), because that is MY family's tradition: to make a kakanin dish or two on All Saint's Day as a pang-alay to our dead relatives. It may be the biko of the essay, it can also be palitaw, kalamay, or this ube-colored malagkit that I can't, for the life of me, remember the name, basta I usually get conscripted to be the stirrer (an unwelcome and boring chore for a kid because of the very thick consistency of the kakanin). The cooking takes up the rest of the day. At around 6 o' clock in the evening, after lighting the first two or three candles in the front porch (when one is spent it will be replaced, up until bed time), extra dishes with the kakanins will be placed in the middle of the dining table for the relatives that will be visiting the living for that special day. Spooky? I didn't think so then, and even 'til now.

The third part isn't really that much of our tradition, considering our family don't bake. But considering our proximity to Bulacan, I love hot chocolates and sapin-sapin. And this part had a recipe for Kalamansi cake, a dessert that I fell in love when I went to Baguio last week.

So anyway, I think I'll give this one a 4 and 1/2. It's a great book; it's just that this edition isn't that great (as with any Anvil newsprint editions), with the very thin newsprint paper and the unwieldy textbook size. I guess they'll be reprinting this one into a better (but pricier) edition soon.

4 and 1/2 out of 5

|