Triumphant

I closed this book with a feeling of wonder, of awe, of being joyfully awashed with all those details that happened in those fateful days leading to a peaceful revolution. Sometimes, we need to be reminded that years ago, within a span of 4 days, Filipinos showed the whole world that a peaceful revolution, a long overdue change in power, can be done. And thankfully, that reminder is Angela Stuart-Santiago's brilliant nonfiction work, Edsa Uno: A Narrative and Analysis with Notes on Dos & Tres.

Prior to reading Edsa Uno, I always thought that there's nothing new to know about the People Power Revolution in 1986 that happened in 4 days—from Saturday, 22 February, to Tuesday, the 25th. I was 12 years old at that time, and we were living just in front of one of the camps, Camp Aguinaldo, where some of the historic events took place. I distinctly remember my parents buying a whole box of bread. When I asked them what it was for, they just replied, "We're giving it to the soldiers." So in a way, by virtue of proximity, I was there during People Power I.

To say that Edsa Uno has been a very enlightening read would be an understatement. I never knew that Enrile and Ramos was involved in a coup attempt to oust Marcos just a few days before Edsa. I never knew that Enrile harbored ambition to be the leader of our country in a junta government. I never knew that there was a brief power struggle during those 4 days between the camps of Corazon Aquino and the military defectors (Enrile and Ramos). I never knew that Marcos was more or less kidnapped by the US government when he left Malacañang Palace with his family. I never knew that I didn't know a lot of things. It's a great feeling, this finally knowing. It would feel even greater if other people would know too.

Stuart-Santiago's book, for all intents and purposes, is a chronology. Edsa Uno presents all the details that happened during those fateful days. The research that went into this chronology is admirable. Stuart-Santiago's narrative is filled with first-hand accounts of people who played a part during this momentous period in Philippine history. Actually, most of the book is just that—people telling what was happening at a particular time. It feels wonderful reading their stories. With their stories, I kept imagining myself right in the thick of things. When these people recounted how they feared for their lives when they formed a human barricade to stop the tanks from getting to the military camps, you really feel the tension.

By the book's end, I wonder why we never fully realized the promise of the revolution. Here we still are, in a country ruled by the elite. Edsa Uno does make an analysis of what went right and wrong for the Philippines in line with the peaceful revolution of 1986. It even compares that event with the two other revolutions that happened in 2001, events which also transpired in Edsa, that highway that all residents of Manila are all familiar with. It's a bit disheartening to read the closing sections of the book. However, the book still makes it clear—People Power I was indeed a success, but the events after it are another matter altogether.

Reading Edsa Uno, I am reminded of the opening line in Charles Dickens's A Tale of Two Cities. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. The mid 1980s under the Marcos dictatorship was probably the worst of times for most Filipinos. But those years were a catalyst in bringing out the best among us, Filipinos. And for 4 days, the Filipino spirit was in its best form for all the world to see.

Read this book if:

1. You've always been fascinated by the peaceful Philippine revolution of 1986.
2. You know that history isn't boring at all.
3. You just want to know.

Going local this month

Well, it looks like I would have to stay away from dead guys for the meantime. I have to make room for some local flavor in my reading plans in the next couple of weeks. Okay, I said to myself that I'll be reading only dead guys this year, but the books pictured above are book club picks. And I don't wanna stay mute during the book discussions because I wasn't able to read them.

Po-On is the first of the Rosales saga novels by F. Sionil Jose, one of the country's National Artist for Literature. The book club is reading all 5 Rosales saga novels in a read-along event. I'm not pretty sure if I like Po-On, as I've read just a few chapters so far. So I still haven't committed myself to the rest of the Rosales saga novels.

I was a kid during the 1986 People Power Revolution, an event wherein the Filipino people peacefully toppled the decades-long Marcos dictatorship. So I am naturally curious about EDSA Uno by Angela Stuart-Santiago. It's supposed to be a faithful account of the events leading up to the historic event and its aftermath. EDSA Uno is the book club's February book.

And our March book is a bit of an unconventional one. We're reading a screenplay of an acclaimed local film! Ricky Lee's Sa Puso ng Himala is a book that tells all about the making of the movie "Himala." It contains the full screenplay, interviews with the cast, behind-the-scenes stories, and other pieces by the screenwriter. A lot of people say that "Himala" was groundbreaking when it was first shown in 1982, and its influence can still be felt today.

I'll probably be back in the arms of dead guys by March. But for February, the month of love, I'll show my love for local books first. Happy reading! And Happy Valentine's Day in advance, dear readers! 

In 14th century England

Historical novels written for children and young adults are tricky. At times, they feel like history textbooks, wearily feeding their readers with large helpings of historical facts. Sometimes, history is used simply as a vehicle, providing the right time and place for the events to unfold. Thankfully, Avi's Crispin: The Cross of Lead is the latter. It's a beautiful children's story set in 14th century England.

However, I do feel that I'm just tasting a dish I've been served before, instead of being offered with an exciting novelty that assault my senses. Our main character, Avi, becomes an orphan and is accused of stealing. He is advised by the village priest to run away to England's more prosperous cities. Along the way, he meets Bear, who teaches him the art of performing to a crowd.

It's not Avi who manages to get my empathy in this novel. Rather, it is Bear who becomes the character you root for. Underneath the big frame is a man who believes in an England free from the corrupt feudal systems that plague it. Of course, Avi becomes an unwitting member of this rebellion as well. And it turns out that he's more than just your poor orphan; he has noble blood and an heir.

At its heart, Crispin: The Cross of Lead is an adventure story set in a historical context. But Avi does not people his Newbery-winning work with actual historical figures. In fact, there's just one: John Ball, one of the leaders of the revolt of the peasants, and his role isn't even a major one in the novel. The story is still Crispin's and Bear's.

One of the things that I love about children's books is the straightforward narrative and the crisp writing. While I do appreciate novels that "push the envelope" in terms of literary style, I keep coming back to books for children and young adults because of the elegant stories. Crispin: The Cross of Lead is one such book. From page 1, it's an adventure until you flip the last page.

Read this book if:

1. You like historical fiction.
2. You'll read anything that won a Newbery.
3. You're a sucker for people known by one names only (e.g., Avi).

Hey, it's my most un-favorite sport!

If there's one sport that I don't feel passionately about, it's basketball. I  just don't get it. Considering that I'm from the Philippines, I'm in the minority. Everyone here is just gaga over this sport.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't hate basketball. Before, people naturally assume that with my height (I'm 5' 9" in a country where the average male height is a little over 5' 6"), I'd be into the sport. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I think I can count with my one hand the number of times I've held a basketball.

Rafe Bartholomew's nonfiction work, Pacific Rims, touches on this particular sport with verve. It's a book I picked up with trepidation. How can I be interested in this white American male's perspective on our unofficial national pastime?

Bartholomew, a basketball enthusiast even during his childhood, decides to check out the Philippines to find out why this third world country of mine is so into hoops, and what he has found out is at turns revealing and entertaining. Frankly, I'm a bit ashamed (and amused) that it took a foreigner to show me all about this sport in its full local color.

It seems that the Fulbright guys made the right decision when they gave a grant to Bartholomew to study the ins and outs of basketball in the Philippines. Pacific Rims is well researched. It chronicles the history of the sport in the country from the time when the sport was introduced to the country, the time when the Philippines started out as a 'basketball superpower' in Asia, and finally to the present status of the sport both in the professional and nonprofessional levels. All very fascinating reading, I tell you. Lots of colorful personalities—from visionaries to politicians who want to ride in on the popularity of the sport.

Of course, there has to be a focus that will tie all the elements that Bartholomew presents. And this is achieved when Bartholomew is invited to tag along with a local professional team during the start of a season until its eventual win in the finals. The team's win is where I'd like to believe that Bartholomew is their lucky charm, for the team has a shameful track record lately.

I believe that Pacific Rims would appeal to both Filipino and international readers. It provides glimpses on Philippine society in general using the sport as a vehicle. Bartholomew is one very observant guy, and he seems to sense the spirit of the sport even in the most mundane environments. Of course, it helps that he appears to be very congenial, being friendly with his neighbors, the people he just met on the street, celebrities, and basketball players.

Bartholomew can get technical with his description of the different elements of the game. And these are the parts where my eyes simply glazed over. But I think these couldn't be helped but be included though, as these pedantic descriptions established how the sport is played differently in the Philippines. It also showed the level of knowledge of the writer on the sport. Oy, Bartholomew's expertise on the sport is certainly impressive.

Pacific Rims, while it comes off as a charming work of nonfiction, is one of those rare works that is extremely academic and wonderfully entertaining at the same time. Even I, who would flee at the mere mention of the sport, had a jolly good time reading it.

Read this book if:

1. You can't get enough of basketball.
2. You're curious as to why Filipinos are so in love with this sport.
3. You know that white guys can jump, and if they don't, they just write one helluva book.