Pas porwar.

Stories from the canon are of times where the country's turmoils are very much evident. These in turn are exuded greatly in the plot, characters and theme of the writings. It seems the depression of Filipino setting those days, though indirectly, play across your mind as the words pass through your eyes. They usually focus on family, rural life, commonalities broken by unexpected things. In terms of structure, these unexpected things follow a rather long line of narratives (which may be dragging or seem pointless for a first-time reader) until towards or right at the end: BAM! you either realise what needs to be said, or become even more confused by the sudden change. (This may have something to do with, again, the colonial regime - specifically the Spanish - which lasted a slow 300 years before the revolution gave its blast. Again, the evidence of the times.)

We had discussed a good amount of stories centering on women, from the canon to the first of our contemporary readings, and from those we can already see a transition between the two eras of literature. Rivera-Ford and Tiempo both discuss in their stories how women were stripped of choices, Tiempo giving them a step forward through a less helpless (somewhat headstrong) choice. Then Estrella D Alfon brings us a woman that is more than just an observer, and much so more than one who takes in without complaint. Magnificence shows not only a woman who defends what is important to her but a woman who does so with strength and dignity. (I could also include Joaquin's Summer Solstice here, based on how readers may mis/interpret it, as the ambiguity of feminist intent.) We are then brought to the contemporary by another story of womanhood.

This time, though, in Noelle de Jesus' Games we meet a woman with, yes, more control of her life than the aforementioned but still with much struggle in the world. From the medium-scale focus of the bigger problems of Filipinos, we zoom in to a smaller, seemingly more trivial point of conflict. Seemingly, because the language is now more familiar, the "depression" less evident (partly because the Depression of these times are not so world-scale and damaging anymore - which isn't to say they are less important.) The themes of contemporary fiction, then, may be preempted as being closer to the current readers' own problems and understanding. Something which could play a double-edge sword, really: familiarity goes along with rejection, after all, and we might find something that we already "know" less significant once we've read it. Hopefully, we become re-awakened instead.

Point of his story. Or, of skirts cut short of freedom.

Eve stole an apple (or some other fruit that may or may not represent a woman, bane of man's existence), and tricked Adam into tasting it. Because of this, Adam lost his deed to paradise and had to be sent away, running through the marshes, hiding his great folly.

For this reason, men came up with the Bible (cunning bastards), and rendered women faceless in generations to come (pah, such weak hearts!) The peoples of our country would have been saved from the ignorance and imbalance, though. But the tall, stocky white people had to come.

A short disclaimer before I go on: I have nothing against faith in God, and living a good life to get to Heaven. I only believe that the so-called wonders of Christianity as a religion are overrated.

Love in the Cornhusks and The Corral both speak of women in the face of limited to almost no choices. Tinang and Pilar both face heartache, lack of confidence, insecurity. And it's not because 'Amanda' from next door has prettier legs than them but because patriarchal society has made innate to them the feelings of constant disturbance, loss of hope. There is a progress between these two women's situations, where Pilar is given an actual choice as compared to Tinang who simply submits to what is laid in front of her - though Pilar is still not happy with either option faced. And that doesn't make her any different from Tinang's tragedy.

"Lahat tayo, mga prosti sa lipunan." -- Sigfried Barros-Sanchez
(Hindi siya babae pero sang-ayon ako sa mga sinabi niya. u_u)

I do believe that times have changed drastically, and women now have more freedom and opportunities in society but we are fooling ourselves if we think that we have achieved equal footing with men. Women are still very limited and considered weak, incapable, and the scary thing about this is that we might not even notice it at all.

Recently I had an argument with my father about dorming in Diliman for my OJT. He didn't want me living so far away from home, away from his protection - he even found it hard to allow me to sleep over my (very female) best friend's house (which had been in the same neighbourhood.) That frustrated me a lot.

A friend of mine would always get scolded for staying out late (9pm), even if it had been for school work, because "hindi gawain ng babae yan!" Another seems to be prohibited from even showing her shoulders - because she happens to be more endowed than most girls. One more got -accused- of being a -dyke- because she happens to treat herself as the female counterpart of a metrosexual, and I still laugh at being ridiculed for not wanting a boyfriend to "care for and nourish me" at the moment.

Thing is, people still treat us like women and we still see it as a bad thing. And while we still worry about what 'Tony' might say about our new hairstyle, and while we are still phased by Amanda's attractive curvatures and flawless skin, we're far from free from the banes of patriarchy.

We make it seem like we care.

Arcellana's stories, The Mats and Divide by Two seem to have both talked about how Filipinos value property. Though first story showed how the characters cared for their own belongings, and the second how the husband and wife wanted others to respect them, they give sense in the importance of ownership - be it material or something deeper. The two are also very different in terms of the tone and mood it created.

As for which is more realistic in dealing with Filipino nature, though it appears less sane and more surreal, if not a little disturbing, The Mats shows this by once again flowing into family (which in present times need not be the traditional definition; it may now refer to people who have a relationship deeper than companionship) and how closely-knitted the ties we have are (whether we like each member or not), compared to Divide by Two, which has a more realistic feel to the flow (though the plot may seem as incoherent) but has a more Western tang to how confrontation was dealt with and how material space had strung it.

Both stories, though, strike well our desire to constantly save face, to give people the idea that we should be commended, to feel like we are important. Filipinos live not in, freely, but on good cheer. A struggle to always keep a smile on our faces, and consequently to bring smiles to others (lest they ruin the mood we worked up so hard) to tell people that despite the poverty and instability, we have one great thing to be proud of.

Like bamboos in the wind.

My Father Goes to Court and How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife

The Filipino trait that is evident in both stories is the value given to family. While Bulosan explores the Filipino's jolly nature and queer "philosophy," and Arguilla our dependence on agriculture (growth, seasons) and capacity for love, family reigns most important in how the Bulosan's poor father defends his family's health and joy, and how Arguilla's Baldo seeks for what is best for his brother and family by testing Maria. (On an off note, the reference to papayas in My Brother Leon may have mirrored most Filipinos' desire to have white skin. Or, it could just be me being silly.) Close family ties is one value that, despite changes in our [youth's] turn to independence and our progress towards things like career and technology, remains in Filipinos up to this day.

What could also be realised in the first two stories is how resilient Filipinos can be. This could be seen not only in the message their plot relays but through the way each piece was composed. My Father Goes to Court, for one, is said to have been written for a foreign audience. The language by which it is structured showed how Filipino culture could be communicated, shared to others. In How My Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife, on the other hand, though its deeper meaning may not be easily grasped by people not familiar with the Filipino life and ideals, presents its strength in that itself: it is a story so simple, anyone would be able to relate to it - to the anxiety at welcoming a stranger as showed by Baldo, the confidence in love as exuded by Leon, and the power to prove one's self worthy of someone as seen in Maria - but only a people who have experienced the same kind of trials that the society from which the story airs can truly be feel in their hearts and be proud of with their souls.

I am not, and have never been, AND will never be, your cuddle-bunny.

From here on out, this journal shall exist for the purpose of exploring insight towards the canonical and contemporary literary fiction of Filipinos in English.

Or some, and some. /failed-pretentious-eloquence

Baka wa shinanakya naoranai.

Since our final project is about using the Internet for educational purposes, this is how you eat sushi: !!



Note to the audience: This video does not present accurate information, and is here solely for the blog owner's desire to share her object of insanity amusement.

Ergo, DO NOT DO THIS IN JAPAN PEOPLE! 8D

It's not about thinking outside the box...

...It's about ripping it open, and letting your ideas fly.


-- Kyle Lazo. (pinaganda ko lang XD)