I have explored the interrelationship of race, class, and gender, not as abstract issues but as actual encounters and episodes, providing me with a "voice". Varied as the narrative may be, they are told by the same voice--that of a wounded but surviving writer and academic. So perhaps the story that all the narratives tell is one of self-preservation. Memoirs, after all, become the literary representation of memory."

    It is also the story of the Filipino diaspora as seen by an orphan who is brought by an American captain to the United States in 1945. Through the eyes of Salvador dela Raza unfolds the epic voyage of the Filipino, from the earliest contact with China through Magellan's tragedy in Mactan, onto the heroic voyage of the galleons across the Pacific. The VIAJERO story concludes with the movement of Filipino workers to the Middle East, and the travail of Filipino women in Hong Kong, Singapore, and Tokyo.

    She grew up in the house of one of the richest families in the world . . . in the servants’ quarters with her mother, the family cook. The life of luxury is all she knows, but it isn’t really her life. Unhappy in school, invisible at home, she lives inside her head, in a world made of books and movies. Outside, Manila is in turmoil: protest rallies, a bloodless revolution, coup attempts, and the Web hasn’t even arrived yet. When is Guada going to leave her imaginary shelter and get a life? Funny, caustic, and moving, The Age of Umbrage is the first novel from one of the most distinctive voices in contemporary Filipino writing.

    This book takes us on the rough-and-tumble journey of the greatest band you never heard, a story of drugs, rock and roll, and the depths of the human soul. We witness both the exhilaration and the ravages wrought by the rock scene. Tracing Pinoy rock history while creating its own alternative mythos, where rock gods walk on water, bands record mythical albums and then vanish from the scene, and kids from Projects 2-3 can change the world with music, Super Panalo Sounds! is a mind-opening, mind-altering cautionary tale of how high and how low you can go when you’re rocking and rolling.

    Together, with humor and perseverance, they are strengthened as they try to overcome the social and political forces that threaten their community. Native and non-native alike will find a poignant honesty that grabs them from the opening line to the end. For some it will feel like familiar territory; for others, a heart-opening awakening to the struggles and spirit of The People.

    This 399-page put together by the late Edwin Sabin gives a thorough yet readable account of the awesome feats and bravery of the great warrior leaders of these ancient peoples that occupied and cultivated this continent thousands of years before the white man stumbled upon it by mistake.Chet DembeckPublisher of One

    Originally published in 1966 - this is a recent reprint of the play in English.

    Many new archaeological materials have been recovered since its publication in 1975, requiring changes in the earlier descriptions and interpretations of Philippine prehistoric society and culture." -- www.kabayancentral.com

    The story of Francisco, who is torn in his love for two women both with outstanding qualities—: Christy, his fianceé of many years, and Magda, the mysterious widow.

    When it won the Carlos Palanca Grand Prize for the English Novel in 1999, it proved that fiction can be both popular and literary.F.H. Batacan has a degree in Broadcast Communication and a master's degree in Art Studies, both from the University of the Philippines in Diliman. She has worked as a policy researcher, broadcast journalist, web designer, and musician, and is currently a journalist based in Singapore. She previously won a prize for her short story "Door 59" in the 1997 Palanca awards, and her work has appeared in local magazines, as well as in the online literary magazine Web del Sol.

    Recognized by industry insiders in the Philippines as “the man perfect to write this book,” the author has been at the helm of various publications, from Manila Standard’s The Good Life, for which he was lifestyle editor for seven years, to Manila Bulletin’s Sense&Style, in which he is the current editor-in-chief. He began practically as the “other editor” of Lifestyle Asia back when it was blazing the trail for glossy magazines in the early nineties. Blurring the distinction between instruction and inspiration, WHWN boldly takes the reader along the author’s adventures and misadventures in the publishing world. With a foreword by ruthless editor and bestselling author Jullie Yap Daza and with vignettes from the country’s top editors and writers, never has any book on writing in the Philippines been such a pleasure to read that it makes you want to “write here write now.”

    

    Since fieldwork is situated, Raybeck's treatment also includes rich descriptions of Kelantanese society and culture, addressing such topics as kinship, linguistics, gender relations, economics, and political structures. Through the lively pages of this narrative, readers gain insight into the human dimension of the fieldwork undertaking, a sense of how the anthropologist builds rapport in a research setting, and how reliable information is obtained.

    Chiara is working on a film about an incident in Balangiga, Samar, in 1901, when Filipino revolutionaries attacked an American garrison, and in retaliation American soldiers created “a howling wilderness” of the surrounding countryside. Magsalin reads Chiara’s film script and writes her own version. Insurrecto contains within its dramatic action two rival scripts from the filmmaker and the translator—one about a white photographer, the other about a Filipino schoolteacher.Within the spiraling voices and narrative layers of Insurrecto are stories of women—artists, lovers, revolutionaries, daughters—finding their way to their own truths and histories. Using interlocking voices and a kaleidoscopic structure, the novel is startlingly innovative, meditative, and playful. Insurrecto masterfully questions and twists narrative in the manner of Italo Calvino’s If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler, Julio Cortázar’s Hopscotch, and Nabokov’s Pale Fire. Apostol pushes up against the limits of fiction in order to recover the atrocity in Balangiga, and in so doing, she shows us the dark heart of an untold and forgotten war that would shape the next century of Philippine and American history.

    Like the last kiss from a scorned one-nighter. Like the walls of inch-thick dirt that have been there for 14 years. Redundant conversations in a basement that echo for months on end. A staircase with old, stinky wood. Prime time kabobohan. 4-day old socks. Reflective surfaces in moments of discomfort. Blood all the wrong places. A painful gut. And just like the pain of process-oriented frustration, I hate it.