Let's get critical with 'The Manila Review'

At Craft Coffee Workshop along E. Rodriguez Ave. one quiet Saturday afternoon, guests were received with free copies of a new publication called “The Manila Review.” It may have sounded cute to some, or cloying to others, but a point had to be made. It was the first of its kind in Manila, a critical review publication in the mode of the “London Review of Books” or its New York counterpart. Publications that are well known to those who frequent them in university libraries, especially among the literary crowd, but their online presence has given them a much wider audience than before. Hence, “The Manila Review” is not exactly a print publication—its first issue was a limited-edition print release, but all of its articles can be found online. The first articles included a critique of films about the upper class by Mara Coson, the journal's managing editor and a writer for “Rogue Magazine”, a discussion of book reviews in the Philippine context by Caroline Hau, and a reflection on the Rizal sesquicentennial by Ambeth Ocampo. The online edition also features an interview with movie critic Katrina Stuart Santiago, a contributor for GMA News Online. The review was the brainchild of Leloy Claudio, who first broached the idea with his doctoral dissertation adviser, Patricio “Jojo” Abinales. “I kept telling people that I was such a big fan of the `New York Review of Books' [and] `The London Review of Books',” Claudio told GMA News Online, “and why don't we have anything like that around here?” In other words, what was needed was a venue for long-form essays in the Philippines. Such a lack, he explained, could be attributed to the lack of a market. “The only people who care about writing [these things] are people who don't care about the lack of it,” Claudio added, “but who just want to do it because it is something important.” His dissertation adviser had thought about the idea himself, Claudio adds, and they brought their forces together, so to speak. What interested me was that, while much of the editorial board are more closely connected to the academic world (Claudio and associate editor Nicole Curato are with the Ateneo de Manila and the University of the Philippines in Diliman, respectively), “The Manila Review” is not by any means an academic journal. The writing style is proof of this. There is an effort to cut through the jargon and yet assumes, on the part of the reader, a level of general knowledge that is steeped in an understanding of a wider cultural, historical, or political context. “The Review”, says its editors, is an interdisciplinary and intergenerational publication. “We do have academics,” he admits, “but these are the kind who can speak to a public [outside the academe]. And we also have journalists in our team, the kind who can not just do reportage, but do analysis as well.” It is a publication where the veteran historian Ambeth Ocampo and geek fictionist Carljoe Javier both have bylines. Part of the goal of this publication is precisely to encourage the emergence of a public intellectual, someone who lies between, in Claudio's words, “the exegetical academic and the concise journalist.” Given this goal, is it possible to make it more popular or accessible without sacrificing that sense of intelligence? Mara Coson told me, “Realistically speaking, I don't think we'll ever have a wide distribution, or we'll be read by a million people. What we want to be is to be like a neighborhood store, something dependable, where people count on us to do what we do without the constant need to get new readers.” Which leads to an important question: would this be a purely bourgeois enterprise? Would it only serve the same kind of enclosed circle that, say, does not think at all of the concerns of the wider community? Claudio explained that “The Manila Review” is free and online, and that he finds no problem with an audience of a certain kind patronizing it. “I'm sure there are lots of people who are interested in critical dialogue in this country,” Claudio explained. “And it is an insult to the non-bourgeois to say that they cannot handle critical thinking.” But it is a particular kind of critical thought that is prized here, reflected in a particular aesthetic. The almost-iconic logo of “The Review” and indeed both the look of its website and the print edition is the brainchild of Carina Santos, a visual artist and designer who has had a number of exhibits last year. “Just taking off from the idea of this being an intergenerational journal, I felt that the look would be something everyone would appreciate,” she says, “I don't think it's too serious. . .I think it is a balance.” What she is most proud of is the print edition, which is of course sized like a copy of “The New York Review of Books.” In the pipeline are not discrete issues but rather what Claudio calls “batches” of new articles that will be posted on the site. The next set of articles will be up by the middle of this month, and Claudio admits that there are more on the way. The bigger challenge facing “The Manila Review” was indeed implicitly identified by Claudio—there is an attitude that finds it “cool” not to be intellectual. To try to stretch one's vocabulary to fit the precision of ideas one wishes to say or to raise the level of conversational discourse would be “nosebleed”-inducing. Related to that is a fear that where critical discourse ventures into a degree of frankness, it is tantamount to an insult, a personal attack. It is a sad day for me when all one could say is that things are well when in fact, in some places, it is not. No doubt about it: “The Manila Review” has its work cut out. – KDM, GMA News The limited-edition print copy is available at Craft Coffee Workshop (Broadway cor. E. Rodriguez Ave, New Manila, QC), the As In Shop (59 Mahabagin St, Teacher's Village East), Heima Makati (LRI Building, Reposo St., Makati City), Ritual Store and Longboards Manila (7274 Malugay St, Makati City) and the Ayala Museum.