Chick lits often give happy endings a.k.a. closing scenes of a wedding, a wet kiss, make-up sex, what-have-you. “Amazing Grace,” interestingly, does a feminist stance. The couple won’t end up with each other. And it’s not the woman’s fault.

To sum it up: Grace meets Mike (epitome of male beauty, as usual), the two become a couple, the relationship runs for two years, and then the conflict: Mike is assigned to Singapore. Before leaving, however, the guy proposes to Grace, giving her and the readers hope that there will be problems, but things are to end up fine.

In Singapore, Mike meets former classmate  and ex-gf Kaela, and soon the old love resurrects. This however is not revealed until the end, since the book follows Grace’s amazingrace-like chasing after her man. Sensing the doom of her engagement, she immediately flies to Singapore to save Mike, only to find him in a party wrapped around the arms of Kaela. Confrontation ensues.

Grace, dedicated to be victorious in this love battle, follows Mike to Bangkok and Hong Kong along with her sister Lena and new friend Han. Later it is disclosed that Mike has not gone there for work. He has also been following the angry Kaela.

Yes, the book’s a heartbreak. But it’s a woman-empowering (cough, cough) heartbreak. The story ends with a brief talk between Mike and Grace, but sans the drama.  She sets him free, and she feels proud of herself for doing so.

Tara Sering, hands down,  is the best Pinay chick lit writer in town. Her language and literary techniques show that she can write “serious” and “more substantial” stuff, but chooses to stay in the level of the popular because frakk, it’s better to entertain Cosmo readers and earn some money than amuse academicians and hardcore lit geeks.

The book plays on formulaic plots with enthusiasm that you have to give it credit.  Supposedly representing the empowered modern city girl, Denise initially declines Coby’s offer of marriage because, well, it’s just plain sex.  The protagonist’s best friend/sidekick Joanne does a consistent job in the book: she’s a mother who gives motherly statements. Joanne hates Coby at first, and as expected this will change as the guy turns out to be a keeper.

So after a period of maternal rest, Denise wants to return to her normal life . But then there’s the baby to take care of, so she soon realizes the need for a nanny. Unfortunately (whoa!), all the nannies have issues, and so the single mom is compelled to call Coby for help. The succeeding chapters show the two discovering the joys of parenthood. And then that scene: after a stressful day that ends with the couple pacifying a wailing child through breastfeeding, Denise finds herself in another lovemaking session with the dad.

And oh, it’s almost forgettable that in between the Coby-Denise moments, there are a couple of chapters featuring another guy, Joanne’s hunk-lawyer friend named Martin. The way this Martin-Denise angle is treated alone gives away the fact that the author just uses a ploy to insert an element of jealousy.

The problem with “Have Baby, Will Date” is its clean treatment of Denise’s situation. Narratively, the new mom is not confronted by challenges of newfound parenthood. Her most pressing concern after giving birth is to lose weight, tone her abs, and meet a new handsome guy. Which I think has something to say about how the Pinay Cosmo girl is branded.

Several literatures illuminating the conflicts and biases between Christians and Muslims have already been written, and Chris Martinez’s “Our Lady of Arlegui” provides a hilarious addition. The one-act Filipino play depicts the short but very memorable encounter between Rhett, a young Christian film geek, and Anisah, a 40-ish Muslim vendor of DVDs in Quiapo’s Arlegui Street. Rhett is looking for the classic film, “400 Blows” when an Optical Media Board raid ensues, which highlights the culture of “staged” hiding and creates a rationale for conversation.

Most of the humor come from the discussion of problematic attributes of pirated materials like jumping and non-playing discs, senseless and gramatically murderous subtitles, deliberately confusing titles (“400 Blows, hindi 400 Blow Jobs!”), among many others. Such humor, if closely scrutinized, mostly springs from the mockery of “informed and intellectual” yet piracy-supporting middle-(and-higher)-class consumers to vendors whose prime motive is just to sell.

Though attempting to debunk the prejudices between Muslims and Christians, the play cannot help positioning itself to the perspective of a Christian writer writing for a Christian audience. The exploration of the topic is so light that the play spends itself in discussing just two points, first, Muslims’ taboo of eating pork, and second, their preference to have multiple partners. While Anisah justifies the existence of these beliefs, she however is not given a voice that conversely highlights Muslims’ biases against Christians, making the discourse almost one-sided, and leaning to “let-us-be kind-and-understand-them” syndrome.

But we should evaluate the play for what it offers, and not what it lacks. And with this, it is interesting to point out how Martinez has enabled to connect Quiapo’s Dibidi culture to the never ending war between the two religions, locally and globally by interweaving various literary tools and elements. Arlegui Street, a Christian-baptized placed, is a Muslim territory, something that strongly recalls the historical bloody wars of the Crusades, and the Hispanic tradition of Moro-Moro. The minority position of Muslims in the Philippines and their concentration in the South (Islands, Boats) also bring to mind the sensibility that historically labeled them as “pirates,” an infamous role which, in light of the Age of Information and Media Explosion, is becoming positive and beneficial in the perspective of predominantly Christian-and-middle-class Manila that desires cheap-and-unlimited access to entertainment, information, and the arts. In closing the play with Anisah and Rhett starting a meaningful friendship and strong suki-relationship, Chris Martinez’s “Our Lady of Arlegui” points out that mutual religious biases can be negotiated and reconciled in exchange of the common goal to rebel against “legitimate” capitalist establishments that limit the flow of knowledge and cultural exchange.

“Laman pa rin ng kalye si Aling Precious, tinitingnan ang bawat taong nagdadaan, hawak ang walis tingting pero wala nang winawalis. Maya-maya pa eh tinanaw ng aleng palawalis ang magkabilang dulo ng kalye, saka nangulangot, at tiningnan ang daliri: walang laman. Tinuhog ulit ang ilong nang pagkalalim-lalim (11).”

Bob Ong’s 7th book is not far from what he has written in the past, as the short novel presents a fascinating amalgamation of all the ideals that he has shored up in his former works. It touches on the search for personal triumph (ABNKKBSNPLAko?/Stainless Longganisa), the need to reform Filipino’s negative cultural traits (Bakit Baligtad Magbasa ang Mga Pilipino), the existence of God in relation to negotiating predetermination and creation of a personal destiny (Paboritong Libro ni Hudas/Mac Arthur), the supposed role of a citizen in his/her community and the need to form decisions with sense and wisdom (Alamat ng Gubat).

Bob Ong’s humor is there, kicking asses, albeit a bit generational, because set in the post-EDSA period, and can only be completely understood by readers in their 20s and 30s. The humor is predominantly brought by comical elements in 1980s-90s pop culture, among them the mention of Batibot, RinBee, Bazooka Gum, Hetty Spaghetti, McGayver, Matet, That’s Entertainment, Leni Santos and Rey PJ Abellana, Funny Komiks, Cy Gabriel Soap, and many others. There are, of course, the usual Bob Ong grose punchlines (LBM, tae, kulangot, sipon, uhog, etc.), and ridicule of funny, bakya names (Mhelamyn, Jennavee, Flordeliza, Lucibelle, etc.).

Kapitan Sino depicts the story of Rogelio Manglicmot, a small-time electrician in the town of Pelaez, which is set in the Post-EDSA period. Rogelio is revealed as having superhuman powers, as shown by the narrative conversations of the hero and his bestfriend, Bok-Bok. The book moves fast; in the next chapter, Rogelio is seen trying out superhero costumes made by Tessa, childhood friend and love object. In the next scenes, Kapitan Sino begins to save all the problems in the world.

Rogelio however receives his biggest blow when he has failed to save Tessa’s life. Tessa has been one of the victims of the lurking “Halimaw” in the town, a monster who is later disclosed as Mayor Solomon Suico. Mayor Solomon Suico, in the beginning chapter, is characterized as a kind-hearted and generous town leader. He however has an ill son, Michael, who needs to be constantly transfused with human blood to exist. In the chapter of the tough battle between Kapitan Sino and the mayor, the latter says, “Nagliligtas ka ng bayan, nagliligtas ako ng anak… pareho tayong may obligasyon!” As expected, in the end, Kapitan Sino defeats Mayor Suico, and Michael explodes with all the blood of the victimized citizens of Pelaez.

To celebrate the heroism of Kapitan Sino, a lavish town program is organized by, who else but the person who has assumed the vacated seat of the mayor, the corrupt Vice Mayor Virgilio Samonte. When Rogelio is to walk on the stage though, several Kapitan Sinos also appear, wearing the exact costume of the hero and consequently confusing the denizens of Pelaez. One of the Kapitan Sinos attempts to fire a grenade, but Rogelio successfully prevents the explosion, though leaving his mask torn and face revealed. The end of this episode is very unpredictable, and, like the weird stance of “who-among-the-animals-know-where-the-puso-ng-saging-is” in Alamat ng Gubat, outrageously illogical: Aling Chummy asks the police to arrest Rogelio, blaming the hero for the death of her husband. The town objects: Aling Chummy’s husband died several years back. Aling Chummy replies, why didn’t Rogelio stop it? The town agrees, throwing Rogelio and Bokbok in jail.

While the hero is incarcerated, an epidemic named AVH Fever torments Pelaez. In a quick stance, it is revealed that only Rogelio’s blood can cure the said disease. For this, he is freed, but only to be imprisoned again by doctors and serve as a blood machine of thousands of people desperately trying to be cured. On his way home, a father whose child is suffering from AVH asks Rogelio if he’s the person whose blood can cure. Upon saying yes, Rogelio is knife-stabbed, and dies alongside his parents that he hasn’t been able to heal.

The Jologs Noli Me Tangere?

Philippine novels are said to be haunted by the desire to follow, if not equal, the success of Jose Rizal’s Noli and El Fili, and Bob Ong, the present superstar of Philippine pop literature, in underpinning the problems of the nation in this 7th book, becomes a part of the so-called Rizal-haunting/writing-tradition. Familiar characters and elements of Noli Me Tangere are present in Kapitan Sino. The martyr hero (Ibarra/Rizal=Kapitan Sino), the corrupt government (Spaniards=Vice Mayor Samonte), the social climbing bitches (Victorina&Consolacion/Aling Baby & Precious), and the fucked up society (San Diego/Pelaez). The problematic cultural traits of Filipinos in BBMAMP are creatively highlighted in this book, among them the phony acts and elitist pretensions of the middle & lower classes, the public preference for parties and spectacles over necessities, the tolerated culture of graft and corruption, the vain assumption of debt-of-gratitude, and the superficial sense of community and nationhood in general. Kapitan Sino is very alarming, and saddening in as much as it highlights how the problems of the Philippine nation in Rizal’s Noli, after more than a century, are still the same problems being faced by Pelaez in that Post-EDSA setting, and worse, in the now.

“Write what you know”, is a mantra that literature and creative writing professors tell their students. Edgar Calabia Samar takes this seriously by creating a character whose desires revolve around the realm of writing itself. Daniel, the hero of the art piece, discloses the chapters of the novel by being a storyteller that repeatedly shifts in voice, person, situation, and mood. Why do novel writers separate the “real” literary work from the “making” of the literary work when they can simply fuse and package them into one book? More, why do novelists need to think of a plot of the novel when the very “making” of the novel can pass as a great plot? Walong Diwata ng Pagkahulog is created by a writer who creates a main character dreaming to be a writer who formulates philosophies and employs narrative voices which he has learned from a dozen of other popular writers which the main character uses to imagine characters that he is imagining, or dreaming, to write. This project, this creation of labyrinths through playing with the scheme of “writer within a writer within a writer ellipsis” , is what makes Samar’s work a difficult read, if difficult means trying painfully to find “what The Author Samar wants to say” according to the conventional structuralist/beginning-muddle-end method of literary interpretation.

Many Filipino literary writers do not disclose their writing influences even when asked, most of them living with the delusion that whatever they write is original, and emanates from their great spleen of talents. Edgar Samar’s book brandishes a fuck-you finger to these authors. No one is and can never be original, and whatever Samar, or Daniel, or Daniel’s protagonist-Arcangel, or whoever-really-depicts-the-narrative writes or say is just an amalgamation of the works that they have read and the experiences they have encountered. The attempt to depict Daniel’s hometown, Atisan, is brought by reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s Macondo in One Hundred Years of Solitude. Samar is explicit in telling that Daniel reads Kundera, Salinger, Murakami, and so many other contemporary writers, and their works, in one way or another, affect how WDNP is going to proceed.

Jun Cruz Reyes’ blurb focuses on the ‘new way of writing’ that Samar has introduced with the publication of Walong Diwata ng Pagkahulog. This remark perhaps springs from the fact that the novel does not show how conflicts can be resolved, but exhibit how conflicts are not conflicts at all. The “writers” in this novel tell their stories in jumping fragments that readers cannot and will never trace which parts tell the beginning, and which ones tell the end. Time flashes forward and backward without giving warnings, characters’ memories are blended with realities, and this confusing blend is further complicated by dreams, afterthoughts, and musings.

In the end, what are the things that we remember? That Daniel is abandoned by his father for Saudi and lives with his Tito Tony who, as the novel pursues, is disclosed as the actual father. That Atisan is a childhood paradise where dwendes, tiyanaks, diwatas, and many cultural mythical characters exist. That Daniel lives for the memories of childhood friends Michael, Glen and Erik. That Daniel, like other teenagers, falls in love and discovers sex. That Daniel opens the novel with him being pushed to the brink of death by a snatcher who has stolen his mother’s picture. That Daniel closes the novel by falling off the brink and failing to find her. Family, friends, love, local elements through the mysterious and the unexplained. The way of telling perhaps is revolutionary, but what is being told stays the same.

Isang Napakalaking Kaastigan

The first page recounts the author’s kindergarten experiences, and readers can’t help recalling the same scene in Bob Ong’s ABNKKBSNPLAko?. Actually, if one is going to scan the Philippine lit bookshelves, one will feel an earnest desire of local publishing houses to come up with books that will equal if not outdo the success of the Bob Ong series. Aside from this book, there are Eros Atalia’s “Peksman, Nagsisinungaling Ako” and Bud Tomas’ “Wala lang,” which are both written in comical-but-wait-there-is-depth-and-drama-somewhere-yes-I’m-Bob-Ong-but-hello-I’m-not mode. Even National Artist Virgilio Almario employs a Bob Ong element in his new book which he entitled “Supot ni Hudas.”

But why should I complain? Many students are now flocking National and Powerbooks to search for local books with the same BobOngish mode, and before I know it they’re already reading F. Sionil Jose. And Amado Hernandez. And even Edel Garcellano! This might be a sign of an upcoming golden age of Philippine literature! And god, Bob Ong is its father.

Anyway, back to Gonzales’ book. “Isang Napakalaking Kaastigan” really is a napakalaking kaastigan, as it is indeed tough to talk about nothing but yourself in a 100+ page book. Reading it feels like going through a collection of journal entries, spontaneous, no uniting theme, and flowing with memories about childhood, school, family, sex, funny and corny cobweb jokes, and influences from pop culture. There are stories about eventful quarrels between his parents, unforgettable conversations with friends and relatives, and hilarious and sometimes melodramatic moments with the family. There are stories about growing with and being conditoned to live like TGIS stars, learning to act like Sharon Cuneta , and dance ala Maricel Soriano.

What can I say about a book whose professed purpose is to simply entertain? Vlad Gonzales’ voice is natural, playful, and pleasingly narrative. Some readers might be annoyed reading tidbits of random experiences ending with expected punchlines, but hey, it works with Bob Ong, and Vlad Gonzales definitely knows how to pull it off too, employing good writing techniques, dramatic line repetition and deft word play. If you’re an Edsa revolution baby, I recommend this. The stories that Vlad Gonzales shares and the humor that he creates simply come from our generational and cultural familiarity with what is unforgettable and what is funny. His book is your bestfriend telling you everything you’ve gone through after you smashed your head and got amnesia.

In his recently published novel entitled Roles, Carlos Malvar attempts to capture the present realities and sensibilities of Manila’s higher-class, young adult generation through deploying a set of familiar high school characters in the fictionalized yet familiar-sounding exclusive school named “The Montessori of Asia and the Pacific”. Knowing the setting and the title and reading the first chapter of the novel are enough to predict how this work is projected to pursue: every character amounts to and plays a specific role, and every role will be given detachable blocks of substories to give way for character and plot development.

It is interesting to point out though that the title Roles also explores the idea of the plot ironically resonating itself inside an inner plot. In this novel, the characters are united by the challenge to join the auditions of the reality show “You’re It,” but the reality show actually already starts at the very beginning of the novel, the omniscient lenses of the chameleon narrator catching every role that every character plays.

The Quest for Stardom

Strip off specific names and references to pop culture and the novel gives the readers character types that they themselves have encountered (or are presently encountering) in their own high school, acting out exactly (sometimes exaggeratingly) what the readers are expecting them to act out:

The Bitchy Girls (Astrud Quinton and Michelle Lim), characters who are always members of the cheerleading team, and very absorbed with their fashion style, make-up and attraction level to cute guys; The Intelligent Girls (Tina Donato and Vanilyn Apanay), who are so obsessed with their intellectual popularity and political authority over the student body; The Athletes (Jason Lastimosa), the tall, charming and handsome basketball star born and genetically chosen to be the campus’ center of attraction; The Boy Next Door (Nathan Manaloto), the smart, romantic, cute guy neighbor whose personality is serious enough to be the leader of the horde and boyishly naughty enough to ensnare many girls’ hearts; The Virgin Prostitute (Olivia Schaultz), the pretty girl caught by the dirty and sinful claws of poverty but who’s actually clean and righteous and kindhearted and all; and the Cunning Stage Mother (Sussana Schaultz), who climbs her family up the social ladder by taking advantage of the attractive (sexual) potentials of her children.

The novel seems to comment on how today’s young adult population, particularly those in the metropolitan chi-chi jungles, is becoming more and more exposed to casual sex, alcoholism, smoking, and drug addiction (stark realities that are not acknowledged in the recent Disney hype of the empire, High School Musical 1 and 2). Moreover, by setting the narrative on the upcoming auditions of a reality show, the novel points out how the consciousness of this generation, as expressed by the motives and ambitions of its characters, has been deeply instilled with the fetish for glitz and glamour, as brought by the countless and endless star-search reality programs bombarding the primetime slots of television networks.

Young Adult Gay Fiction

As enumerated above, the characters in Malvar’s novel are not new to literary readers. The bitch, the geek, the basketball star and other generic figures are already seen in hollywood teen flicks and teen fiction. What makes Roles remarkable, however, is the clever exploration of adolescent homoerotic desire, the narrative framing of which is carefully and thoroughly rendered in the character of Orestes Dizon and his object of affection, his childhood best friend Jason Lastimosa.

It is interesting to note how a novel flowing with stereotypes tries to de-stereotype the stereotypical sissy portrayal of a teenage gay guy, replacing it with a straight-acting, tough character who’s actually ‘one of the rowdy boys,’a project that, it should be admitted, is also not new, having done by oter Filipino gay writers in the past (see for instance, Groyon’s Boys who Like Boys, and other coming-of-age stories in the Ladlad trilogy).

At the end of the book, the writer extends his gratitude to Carla Pacis and Heidi Abad, established vanguards of children’s literature in the country. Contextualizing Roles in the frame of Philippine young adult literature and considering that the novel is meant to be read by adolescent readers radicalizes and makes Malvar’s work one of the first Filipino young adult novels in English illuminating the issues on homosexual identity, debunking the common gender misconceptions in the minds of its readers and encouraging people like Orestes “to be themselves”.