I finished my Contemporary Literature paper last Friday. Now, I just need to send it through e-mail or print it before leaving it on Sir June’s table. Afterwards, I’ll get my grade.

From Wednesday to Friday (or Saturday morning), I’ll be out for COPRE (College Press Conference) so I won’t be, in theory, able to go online for updates and such. Cross your fingers so I may be lucky enough to win something.

Earlier, I finished typing my autobiography for a Theology class. I’ll be (hand)writing it tomorrow.

I was planning to update this place with an old article last published on Aklan Collegian, or the autobiography actually (but I haven’t passed it yet so I won’t publish it anywhere else), but this will have to do for now.

The last week, though tedious, brought out new sources of creativity for me and thus I had the following poetry as products of my wit. Special thanks to the people mentioned. Hopefully, this continues throughout the year.

———–NEW DEVIATIONS

Tap-tappity-tap-tap. Finally, this piece broke (hopefully) my literary rut. I’ve been having a bad case of writer’s block (or writer’s laziness, to be more precise) for a few months but it all ended earlieryesterday when I risked my lifeskipped lunch just to come up with something new.

See how desperatedetermined I am?

Bottomless. Looks like I wrote my first sociorealist poem. I was hoping for another horror and macabre (or just something creepy and strange) piece but I get this. Well, maybe it shares some elements with the latter genre. Is there a hint of dark romanticism? I fail at noticing those things on my own work.

Who says annoying iced tea commercials can’t inspire a bored and desperate writer? /rhetorical question.

source: deviantART

† Jofer

Let’s take a break from our scheduled literary blogging so I can introduce you to my latest blog escapade: Back to Bayou.

I’m pretty sure it’s no secret how much I love roleplaying. From energetic ninjas to far out space mech pilots, I’ve tried them all and loved the most. So it was a no brainer when I got introduced to ESPN’s Fantasy Basketball. It gave me the persona of an NBA Coach, Manager and Owner rolled into one. I took it a step further and even named my team, made a logo with its franchise and chose players like Detroit Piston’s Ben Wallace and San Antonio Spurs’ Manu Ginobili to outwit the opposition with defensive plays. Needless to say, I got too involved with the whole thing.

Now, I’m up and about with the official Lafayette Cajuns blog in the Cleveland 186707 League where I’ll post the latest developments with my team’s path to survival in its first ever Fantasy League. The blog name’s a play on “back to you” (a tv sports anchor’s moniker when he ends his segment), “back to basics” and “bayou” (Louisiana swamp).

Expect my inner sports journalist to come out with the posts. I do need the nostalgic refresher.

Catch you guys on Back to Bayou, updated nightly.

Hello NBA fans and goodnight!

This week, up until 26-27 (since Prelim Exams mark the end of the Preliminary Grading Period), I’ll be writing a full-pledged paper on an Introduction to Contemporary Literature. I’ll be tackling six literary types, with the latter two subdivided into four types each for an in-depth analysis of both. This is my Prelims requirement for my Contemporary Literature Class with Mr. June Mijares at the Aklan Catholic College. In short, I’ll probably be too damn busy to write anything comprehensive leisurely.

Personally, I have mixed reactions regarding the intellectually stimulating yet socially depriving task. As an aspiring author and literary theorist, it’s right up my alley. It’s re-inspiring me to be more efficient and competent in my chosen art, to be a whole lot better than my current status. For the past months, my writing has either been lackluster and uninspired, as the case here on this blog, or less than invisible, as the case on my deviantART. Unfortunately, more work entails less time for other things like romance and keeping my fiancée out of the cookie jar. Sure, her maturity passively grants her the ability and patience to understand and wait for me but she’s still a girl and a social creature who’d want as much of me as I do.

In other news, several staffers of the Aklan Collegian, the official campus publication of the Aklan Catholic College, will be attending the COPRE this 25 of November. COPRE, or College Press Conference, functions similarly to high school’s RSPC (Regional Schools Press Conference), DSPC (District Schools Press Conference) and NSPC (National Schools Press Conference). The difference between the latter three and COPRE is the educational level restriction. There will only be eight writers to be taken to Iloilo City for the conference but there are more than eight staffers of the Aklan Collegian. Fortunately, I’ll be going to the event while most staffers who won’t be going have other things to worry about. This will be my first stab at a journalism competition for 3-4 years now.

More news on that if I get lucky enough to win something.

Speaking of campus journalism, yesterday (November 15, 2009) had me inspired to write something revolving around sportswriting. The sudden jolt of inspiration involved a fellow writer and former colleague challenging me to write ala Rogue Magazine, Pacquiao in Time Magazine and female athletes as femme fatales.

While I am still wary of the latter two developments, I’m pretty much sure that things heading up to the end of the Preliminary Grading Period will be as busy as a beehive. At least, in terms of literature, it’ll be an awesome ride. Let’s just hope I don’t get forced to lose anything valuable in the process. I’m starting to feel the pang of literary poverty.

† Jofer

This might be my second read of How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife but this is definitely the first I’ve tried to digest the beauty of the prose as an experience in itself. However, unlike more fortunate literature buffs who have their own copy of How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife (And Other Stories), I had to rely on Baul to give me a similar fantastic ride to Nagrebcan, Bauang, La Union.

Shame! Manuel Viloria says the collection was only twenty pesos.

The story, like most of Arguilla’s prose, transpires in Barrio Nagrebcan in La Union, the birthplace of Manuel E. Arguilla himself. You’ll immediately realize how the writer loves his hometown by the vivid imagery and sensuality that he offers on the plate. From the shapes and the sounds to even the scent of the air, Arguilla spares no detail to prove that beauty exists in Nagrebcan.

From the title, you can surmise what type of story this is and how it could develop as it goes along. Leon is actually the big brother of the main protagonist, the wielder of the mystic point-of-view, but his wife takes to him as Noel as the latter coinage is presumably a modern twist of Leon though obviously it is an inversion of the word. Baldo is the little brother and Maria, Baldo taking traditional names into mind as he hears her name for the first time, is the wife whom Leon/Noel brought back home.

Maria is actually city bred and Leon/Noel and Baldo are blatantly townsfolk. There’s the culture clash that serves to be the conflict, though only between the father and the oblivious Maria. Since Leon/Noel brought Maria to Nagrebcan, it can be presumed that they’ll be staying there. As a precaution, unbeknownst to even Leon/Noel and Baldo, their father have asked the younger son to do certain things out of the norm just to see if the wife can really adjust to her new setting – the barrio and the family.

Certain characters, with depth, to note are their sister Aurelia and the bull Labang.

What I like about the short story is Arguilla’s character development. They seem to just pop out of the text, giving the reader an impression that they could have been, and could very well be, real people. Most writers often base their characters on real life acquaintances. Whether Arquilla went deeper or not, he still pulled it off and impressively, if I may be so bold.

The ending reflected Baldo’s attraction to Maria or, to be more specific, to the notion of finding his own wife someday.

In its entirety, How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife focuses on the aforementioned culture clash or the setting shift when someone from the barrio or the city is transported to the other. The concept is distinctly Filipino but essentially global. People outside of the Metro (Manila, specifically) wish to travel, and to a greater extent, live in the modernist capital because it is widely believed that they’ll find greater pleasures and successes there. In other words, it borders on a “grass is green” idea or immigration issues.

Arguilla makes me want to go visit Nagrebcan and spend one night there.

† Jofer

Before the first semester of the school year ended, I made sure to borrow Khalleen’s copy of Baul: A Collection of Philippine Literature for College Readers by Leoncio P. Deriada and Isidoro M. Cruz. I had heard of it through other students, it being used as a medium of instruction in literature, but I’ve never had the chance to be formally introduced. When I heard that my fiancée had a copy, I immediately pounced on the idea of studying the whole thing.

Baul has a collection of culturally distinct literature in different forms — short story, poetry, drama and essay. Most pieces I’ve heard of, few I’ve read and studied wholeheartedly and all very Filipino.

The first category was the short story and the first piece featured was Jose Garcia Villa’s Footnote to Youth.

Footnote to Youth revolves around the prospect of teenage marriage. Dodong, the 17 year old main character, wants to marry the younger Teang. He gets his wish but soon finds out that there’s a lot more to marriage than simply obsessing over someone of the opposite sex. As you will be able to tell, the critique that can do as much justice to the story as possible is the Psychoanalytic Theory.

The short story is divided into four parts.

The first part was all about Dodong’s troubles with his yearning to marry, with telling his parents about the earlier wedding proposal to Teang and that she accepted. His entire day was also presented, his parents were introduced and Dodong’s character was exposed to the reader. Teang was briefly acknowledged but more effort was focused on Dodong’s infatuation for her. The dialogue between him and his father supported the fact that Dodong’s really juvenile, unable to support his baseless want and instead proclaiming force to back his words up. Dodong seems to like losing himself in his dreams and fantasies instead of facing reality, a playful tribute to naive youth.

The second part demonstrates how unprepared Dodong really was through Teang’s childbirth. Instead of staying with his wife to comfort her, he fled the scene and retreated to the yard where he contradicted himself on his maturity. He felt confused and awkward and afraid. He didn’t know what to do and if it weren’t for his parents, Teang might’ve gone through the ordeal on her lonesome. Before proceeding to the third part of the story, Villa pushed Dodong to garner sympathy through appreciating the beauty of new life.

The third part, through shorter than the rest, proved to be more human. It contained the philosophical debacle, after all. After the first born, came more children that either parent didn’t want. Teang had to contend with a lot more than she could handle and she began to question if her marriage was a wise decision. Dodong, through Villa’s used of personification on ideals, sought answers but failed to receive any for his newly matured rationality. If Dodong was on the brink of regretting his folly on the second part, he was already exhibiting it on this one.

The fourth, and last, part was focused on irony. To be more precise, Dodong’s first born, Blas, at age 18, now wanted to marry. The tables have turned on him. He is now in his father’s shoes and his son in his when he was still 17. Though Dodong clearly didn’t want Blas to marry at such a young age, his answer remained ambiguous.

Jose Garcia Villa’s message was revealed in the last part. Though the piece, as the authors wrote, could lessen teenage marriages if students read it, the choice would still be up to the individuals involved. The story displayed the negative side of teenage marriage, the tragic ending of an impulsive approach to life. It implies that for everything, a corresponding time and place steers it from being either right or wrong.

As Dodong believed, “Youth must triumph… now. Love must triumph… now. Afterwards… it will be Life.”

Sympathy is wasted on instincts.

† Jofer

This is a personal update instead of the promised literature one. I just noticed NaNoWriMo officially starts tomorrow, by my country’s time, so I need all the motivation and concentration I can muster. I’ve always loved November, mostly because of Halloween. I’m in love with horror. What else can I say?

Last year, I tried writing a psychological thriller entitled, “Mirrorbound”. It revolved around this girl who has been having nightmares. She thinks it might run her off the deep end so she goes to see this psychiatrist. Little did she know, things were going to end a lot worse than she had expected.

Obviously, I didn’t make it. I wanted to rewrite the novel this year but I had a change of heart. Not to mention that my laptop got reprogrammed and I lost all data on it. This year, though, I plan to write a crime thriller entitled, “Kusanagi: Grass Cutter”. I know. I need to change the title.

Kusanagi will be about another girl — a half-Japanese, half Filipina one to add some cultural relevancy. I’ve always loved female protagonists. I won’t reveal much except that this story involves the Yakuza. I will try to incorporate a lot of macabre influences on the attempt. Hopefully, I get things as decent as I can.

Tomorrow, if I find time in between writing my novel and brushing up on some literature stuff, I’ll try to post a decent literature entry. I’m still thinking of what topic I’ll go with but I’ll try to make it helpful and decent.

That’s about it for tonight. Sorry for disappointing you. I’ll make it up, I swear. I have the latest issue of Rogue.

† Jofer

Bob Ong's Stainless Longganisa

Last October 20, 2009, Khalleen and I went to Iloilo City to have our first-ever out of town trip as a couple. We left Kalibo at around 7:30 am and returned a few minutes after seven or eight in the evening on the same day.

The whole thing wasn’t planned. The day before our departure, I made a passing comment on our failed plan to spend two days in the city to watch the In My Life movie, which was basically about gay lovers and one of their moms, and Khalleen suggested that we should leave the next day to compensate albeit it’ll just be for a day. The next morning, she arrived late and we missed the air-conditioned bus so we had to make do with the regular one.

Aside from spending a few hours cuddling with my soul mate in the bus, including both trips to and out of Iloilo City, I also bought Bob Ong’s Stainless Longganisa and Kapitan Sino (Captain Who), completing my collection of the author. Two birds with one stone.

I already have Bob Ong’s Bakit Baliktad Magbasa ang Pinoy? (Why Filipinos read backwards?), ABNKKBSKNPla?! (Ah so you can now read), MacArthur, Alamat ng Gubat (Myth of the Jungle) and Paboritong Libro ni Hudas (Judas’ Favorite Book).

In my honest opinion, I think Ong’s one of the best Filipino authors to date. He writes in Tagalog, the Philippines’ National Language, with authentic humor that can sometimes be genuinely funny and other times horribly sad.

My first brush with his literature was when I was still in high school, approximately 4 years ago. A classmate of mine, female, had introduced the whole class to his style of writing and it instantly became a trend. I was one of the last to come to terms with his unique and sincere brand of humor, mainly because I never liked getting with fads.

Bob Ong's Kapitan Sino

After having lunch at SM City’s Rai Rai Ken, both Khalleen and I got waves from my old colleagues at WVSU, we headed to the National Bookstore and got my National Bookstore Card. I had second thoughts with shelling out some of my hard earned cash right away but the inner book geek in me prevailed. I spent minutes debating on whether I should get the two Ong books or that new vampire series written by yet another female writer (I never liked the Twilight saga, whether in film or print, but it’s just me). I decided to go for the former because Khalleen wanted to read one of them.

Bob Ong’s books speak from the author’s heart and to the reader’s waiting eyes. There is little depth in any of them because they were made to entertain for comedic purposes (with the exception of Macarthur) but they do justice to the common Filipino’s comedic palette. Interwoven with Ong’s experiences and opinions on varied matters, each book reveals fragments on wisdom that only a relative mind would notice. Any, or every if you’re as boring as me, one of them is perfect accompaniment to a lazy afternoon or a gloomy morning.

More in depth critique of Kapitan Sino and Stainless Longganisa after I finish read them. I just started with Stainless Longganisa and my copy of Kapitan Sino’s with Khalleen, though Khalleen will probably finish faster than me because I’m too swamped with work yet again. No surprise there.

—
Author’s Note: This was supposed to be last Saturday’s post, however, because of my cousin’s debut (which ended at about 2 in the morning and cost me easy money) I had to postpone posting it. The next day, Sunday, I was knocked out the whole day. I hate wasting time too.

† Jofer

As far as I know, the Latin American writers were the ones who greatly expanded the scope of the novel. Ironically, I can’t remember much of the great novels I’ve read that were written by such writers, if I even had the chance to partake in their genius.

To be honest, I don’t believe that this critique of mine will be as accurate and comprehensive and less than an ignorant insult to the novel. As much as I want to give justice to the literature, I don’t think I will be able to give it a decent analysis, mainly because I wasn’t able to read the whole thing. Taking out facts from excerpts is like sampling a good coffee by its froth – not really essentially anything.

Postmodernists strike me as people who survived the two World Wars, with enough experience to give them the ability to write something that relates to that period in time. Shallow as that may be, it still lingers in the back of my head. That time, when we discussed that certain theory in class, and when I was writing my report on the subject that was actually owned by another classmate, I could only think of The Piano as an example. The Diary of Anne Frank comes to mind as well but mostly because the Holocaust just reads World War II and, as I mentioned beforehand, anything related to the Wars remind me of Postmodernism.

The greatest element of Postmodernism that can be seen in this work of fiction would probably be Magic Realism. But before that, how about I introduce the novel? It makes for a formal atmosphere, so I’d like to think.

The novel chronicles a family’s struggle, a recurring theme with most Latin American literature, and the history of the fictional town, Macondo. Like most novelists, Gabriel Garcia Marquez crosses genres, combining romance, history and fantasy. As mentioned earlier, the novel emphasizes magical realism, a postmodernist key element, and even bombards the reader with metaphors and irony, the latter another key element of the theory.

Irony is a figure of speech in which the literal meaning of what is said, or written, is the opposite of what is meant. This didn’t start with the postmodernists since the modernists were also often playful and ironic but it did become heavily associated with the former theory, central even.

A bigger stress is made with magic realism, the employment of still, sharply defined, smoothly painted images of figures and objects depicted in a surrealistic manner. The themes and subjects, in magic realism, are often imaginary, somewhat outlandish and fantastic, with respect to the imagination, with a distinctive dream-like quality.

As noticed with the title, there is a direct emphasis on time. Skillful time shifts are employed in magic realism and in the novel, the ambiguity of time becomes a draw to the readers, even becoming more luring than the plot itself. There are notions that time lapses, repeats, changes speeds or stops altogether at different parts of the story, and those events in some sense happen simultaneously, but there is no clear evidence of how much time the narrative covers exactly.

Garcia Marquez also points to time as flexible, with which several ideas can cross or point to it all at once. Clearly, you could read it as a linear progression of events, both pertaining to the individual lives presented and the history of Macondo itself. However, you can also interpret it to two other distinguished phenomenons.

One, time, as a metaphor of history, is a circular phenomenon, through the repetition of names and traits belonging to the Buendia family. Over six generations all the Jose Arcadios posses inquisitive and rational dispositions as well as enormous physical strength; the Aurelianos, meanwhile, tend towards insularity and quietude. This inheritance of traits reproduces the history of individual characters and ultimately a history of the town as a succession of the same mistakes ad infinitum due to some endogenous hubris in our nature.

Two, the issue of timelessness or eternity is explored through the framework of mortal existence. A major trope, or common pattern, with which it accomplishes this task is the alchemist’s laboratory in the Buendia family home, which was first designed by Melquiades near the start of the story and remains essentially unchanged throughout its course as a place where the male Buendia characters can indulge their will to solitude, whether through attempts to deconstruct the world with reason as in the case of Jose Arcadio Buendia, or by the endless creation and destruction of golden fish like his sone Colonel Aureliano Buendia, among a number of other means. A sense of inevitability, or of an unstoppable or unchanging event, prevails throughout the text, a feeling that regardless of that way one looks at a time, its encompassing nature is the one truthful admission.

Another definition of magical realism, which is also applicable to the novel, is that it is a style of writing in which the supernatural is presented as mundane and the mundane as supernatural or extraordinary. This was first coined by German art critic Franz Roh in 1925. This definition is also used on other works by Garcia Marquez such as “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”.

Cien Años de Soledad was first published in Spanish in 1967. It was an instant success worldwide and was translated into over 27 languages. It contributed to the Latin American “boom” in literature and the development of postmodernism literary style. The book became an immense commercial success, becoming a best-selling book in Spanish in modern history after Don Quizote. The product of 15 months of work, during which the Colombian author barricaded himself in his house, it broke his writer’s block and is widely considered to be Garcia Marquez’s magnum opus.

—

Author’s Note: This is my first attempt at a decent critique. Written for my Principles of Literary Criticism Class with Mr. June Mijares at the Aklan Catholic College. The update was supposed to be for yesterday but due to some personal conflicts, I ended up posting this today. Anyway, hope this helps.

† Jofer

First of all, I’d like to apologize for missing my quota schedule to post an entry every Saturday night. I just had too much work last October 03 and, of course, with too much work comes a lot of stress. My mind wasn’t that productive and I was just simply ranting so forcing myself to write an entry that time would have resulted to something resembling an insult to my dear readers. *winks at Kyle and Chris*

I have been torturing myself with too much work the past few days. Technically, I’m not a part of the college’s student government but I’ve been helping with its programs and projects. The fact that my girl friend is a part of that organization doesn’t help. The fact that I’m a lazy workaholic, I love work but I get lazy every now and then, is just insulting.

Finding time to write is like trying to find a needle in a haystack or a pornstar in the Middle East. It’s atrociously impossible, or near to that if the pornstar is as crafty as a desperate English major. Dragging myself through this self-made mess is insult to injury. I can feel my soul wincing in disappointment.

The good thing about being distant from your passion, if that isn’t such an oxymoron, is that you learn to appreciate it more. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say, and that holds true for this certain situation. For the past nights, my mind had been cluttered. It wasn’t the same “oh look a dead nine year old is haunting my waking hours!”, rather “oh look more shit that wouldn’t really matter in the end”. Excuse the language, it helps my stress issues.

Today, I started the day rummaging through Sheena Kristen Sy’s gallery of mushy art. If you have time, you should go see her “Soundtrack of My Summer” collection. She’s a wonderful artist that anyone shouldn’t miss.

Till the next update!

Hopefully, I get a decent literary entry the next time.

† Jofer

Great Lit News: NaNoWriMo is fast approaching!

Last year, I entered the race with Mirrorbound, my would-have-been first attempt at a full length horror and macabre fiction. It would have been my first novel too. Since I wanted the genre to be my field of expertise, I thought I could do well with the challenge. Unfortunately, I failed to accomplish my ideal quota. And so this year I plan to avenge and redeem myself.

This year, I’m going to go all Japanese Culture on my attempt, specifically all Yakuza. Yes. You’ve read it. I’m going to write something related to the Yakuza. It’s not all horror per se, it’ll be somewhat of a psychological thriller or a suspense if all else fails. As usual, the main protagonist will be female but she’ll be more distinctly flavored: she’ll be Japanese. I’ve always found it fun and easy pushing a vague female character around, not minding her cultural values and what not, but this time, I think it’ll be more than awesome with a vantage point. I’ve found the perfect candidate for the role too so it’ll be less tacky this time around.

Unlike last year, I’ve also written a schedule, a calendar of events, that I’ll follow once the event finally unfolds. This time, I’ve come prepared. It’ll be a better ride with a better sword and shield and with a better medic around the corner.

Cheers to this year’s WriMo!

† Jofer