History, Journalism and the Nation-Machine in Joel Pablo Salud’s Blood Republic
The non-fiction genre in the Philippines has always been a point of contention for many critics because it has been literally dominated by “pop” books that are churned out, seemingly, every week and month, in a fashion that reminds one of a drunken sailor folded over the deck of a ship. While there’s nothing wrong with wanting teenagers to start reading, it appears that the pantheon of “pop” writers that are being brought in front of the public all want to do the same things over and over—until the saturation creates permanent brain damage to the readers. Once in...
The War After
Sandra Damon a veteran television reporter of an international news network based in New York looks out the window of the plane about to land at the regional airport of Legaspi. She is obviously fascinated by the view on the ground and of the famous Mayon volcano which now seems so close to the plane as it veers to the left for landing. Sandra gets assigned mostly to cover special coverages of developing stories which attract worldwide interest. This time her assignment is to interview the most wanted communist rebel in the Philippines, an aging – they say dying –...
Time for Rest
Hi, Edson! Sorry for the late reply. I only just saw your message. I accept your challenge! Your request for a ghost story to share with our friends is apt and timely, it being near Halloween and all, but I’ll go you one further, if you don’t mind. But, before I get to that and the tale, I’d like to ask you a question: have you noticed that we have all entered the realm of middle-age that our fathers once inhabited? I’m sure you have, and I’m pretty sure many of our peers have, too. I see it in the...
Astronomy
We peer furtively at smiles, bent wrists and it smacks of mortality. We imagine—nebulae in the irises of a stranger, like they bear stories waiting for the optimum mass of hydrogen, us counting on fusion. The wish to witness the immortal is a prayer written by the finite. A folly—we are born into time, but construct our yearnings for beyond it, the smile now an impetus for entanglement, the wrist the crest of a wave to take at leisure. I had miscalculated in the past— tagged luminous beginnings where instead were clusters of dying stars, a cornea clouded by defect....
Silang
A contingent of armed men escorts her back to her cell. She is tightly bound, reeking of gunpowder and death, her bloodied limbs protesting with each step. A part of her wants to be angry. She must be angry, after suffering heavy losses in the battle in Vigan, after being betrayed—again—by the very people she wishes to redeem in the hills of Abra; after being made to witness the flogging and execution of her men; there is no other rational response but anger. When all else fails, fury has proven to be the most loyal of companions and the most...
Giving Lives
Josefina found the kitten under one of the rose bushes one Sunday morning, cowering from the black Labrador that belonged to their next door neighbor, Mr. Yu. The dog growled and pawed furiously at the roses to get to the kitten, who could only whimper in response. Josefina grabbed a broom nearby and chased the dog away. “Leave the poor kitten alone, Boomer! Pick on someone your own size!” With one last growl, Boomer ran back to their neighbor’s yard. She scooped the kitten in her arms. Several cuts marred his black fur, and his paws, which must have once...
The Empty Northern Hemisphere
Once upon a time in the early history of the Earth, the planet was almost completely covered by water. Jutting out from the blue on the northern hemisphere like birthmarks on an otherwise flawless skin were two small islands that, together, added up to just a little below the size of modern-day India. Back then, only two people lived on the Earth. There was a boy on the island closest to the equator, while three thousand and five hundred kilometers due directly north, on the other island, was a girl. Neither was aware the other existed. Both had spent their...
Superstar
He stood there majestically unmoving, his long white hair waving slowly in the dimness, covering his forehead, his beard waving in ripples. He was wrapped in long, flowing, almost diaphanous robes, his arms covered by the robes as they stayed firmly crossed on his chest. His eyes were closed, breathing in and out slowly. But of course, creatures like him really didn’t have a nose to breathe with, they pulsated. He was there, but he also wasn’t. One moment in his time, and he seemed solid; another moment in his time, he seemed translucent. The next moment, he seemed...
Pressure & release
Red eyes blink at you from across the blacktop of the highway. The tail lights sit still for the most part. Each pair claims a piece of the night sky, twinkling in place. Stare long enough, and constellations start to appear. Here, a couple of lanes away, a snake curled up ready to strike made up of three taxi cabs and an askew Mazda. There under the train station, a cocked gun made up of three black cars in a row and one taxi. Stare even longer and soon, all you can see is red. Every other color gets washed...
The evolution of Jane Doe
30 December 3038 HIGHLY-CLASSIFIED INFORMATION ITP-CID REPORT: TRINOMA FINDINGS During a recent demolition conducted by the Federation government of the abandoned Trinoma, a body was excavated at the site. The remains, purportedly female, still intact and with hardly any signs of decomposition, was immediately shipped to the city’s forensic pathologist and leading expert on evolution and genetics, Dr. John Michael V. Williams of the University of the Philippines, for further study. The following documents, audio-visual digital materials, email and online records, social media posts, and other necessary files and mainstream media reports posted on WebMast...
The National Artist on Rosales, Reforms and the Duterte ‘Revolution’
AT the heart of every nation is memory. And there’s no better way to be reminded of it than through the eyes and words of National Artist for Literature Francisco Sionil José. Manila at the tail end of the Second World War. So it came to pass when as a young man, Frankie journeyed on foot to his hometown in Rosales, Pangasinan from Manila to flee a city in the throes of hunger. The Americans had returned under the command of Gen. Douglas McArthur and the bombardment commenced, sending the Japanese invaders in a scuffle for their lives. Manila, caught...
