Two landmark books

LET ME take note this week of two new books I’ve received—one from a friend, in fair trade for a copy of my new novel, and the other a complimentary copy of a book I’d gladly read and written a back-cover blurb for. Both books are landmarks in their fields—one in scholarship, and the other in biography—and both are eminently interesting and accessible to the lay reader, which is more than you can say for many seriously intentioned books that come off the presses these days. The first is Tagalog Bestsellers of the Twentieth Century: A History of the Book in the Philippines (Ateneo de Manila University Press, 264 pp.) by Patricia May B. Jurilla, a colleague at the English Department in UP who just recently earned her PhD from the University of London. This book was May’s dissertation project, and it’s easy to see why it earned plaudits from everyone who’d read the manuscript. Jurilla painstakingly traces the history of the book in the Philippines—not just in Tagalog or Filipino, but also in English, and comes up with fascinating details like this: “While Banaag at Sikat is now recognized as the most prominent work of the period known as the Golden Age of the Tagalog Novel (1905-1921) and a milestone in the history of Tagalog fiction for its engagement with social issues, it was a complete commercial disaster as a book. [It had been previously serialized in a newspaper, and was self-published as a book by Santos in 1906—BD.] Santos had 10,000 copies in newsprint… and 1,000 in book paper… printed with the Imprenta McCullough…. He managed to sell only 4,000 copies. Being unable to pay for the rest of the unsold books, Santos was charged in court by the printer and ordered to relinquish various possessions, including fifteen cows, as partial payment for his printing bill…. Santos spent many years paying off the rest of his debt to the printer. As he recalls, the publishing of Banaag at Sikat was meant to uplift his financial situation; instead it left him more impoverished than ever.” Certainly not impoverished, at least in his golden years, is the subject of the second book, Dolphy: Hindi Ko Ito Narating Mag-isa (Kaizz Ventures, 229 pp.). Put together by Bibeth Orteza, the book is actually and largely an autobiography of the man we’ve known as Dolphy speaking off the cuff about the many twists and turns of his long life (the book was launched on his 80th birthday last July 25). I was privileged to read a working version of it, about which I would say that “This is an extraordinary memoir of an extraordinary man who has gifted generations of Filipinos with laughter, but whose own life has been a struggle to balance life and work, to meet the demands of family and fatherhood, to tame his prodigious passions. This story is told with searing candor and compassion, not only by Dolphy himself but also by the many people whose lives he touched (and, in many instances, brought forth)—his women, his children, his friends, his colleagues. I haven’t read a biography like this, ever, and the uncensored, unmediated first-person accounts strike home with a power and a poignancy you’d be hard put to find in any screen drama. There are moments of humor and irony as well, and all in all we gain a truly moving picture of a brilliant but complex man whom we feel like knowing, in many senses, for the first time.” Here’s vintage Dolphy, with that bittersweet twinkle in his eye: “Sa maniwala kayo o hindi, nagsimula akong ang hanap ko sa relasyon, tulad sana ng sa Papang at Mamang. Ang maging steady lang sa isang asawa. Pero no’ng nagkahiwalay kami ni Grace, para akong nagkaro’n ng hatred sa babae, lahat na gusto kong pakialaman. Dumating ako sa gano’n, para makalimot. Nambabae ako nang nambabae. Kumalma din naman ako. With age. As much as possible, I try na maganda ang hiwalayan. Ang iba, pag nagkikita kami uli, mayro’n kaming mga secret na ngitian. ‘Remember?’” * * * I’m the world’s worst foodie, as I often have to remind well-meaning editors and friends who make the mistake of asking me to write about food. Another term I use to describe myself is “culinary philistine,” which can be fairly applied to anyone who goes to a villa in Italy with tins of Ligo sardines in his suitcase. I once turned down an invitation to sit at a very special table among guests who were going to be fed by ten of Manila’s best chefs—not because I thought poorly of their talents, but because I dreaded the prospect of being served something like artichoke dipped in chocolate or grilled capsicums smothered in melted cheese. To me, the apex of European cuisine is that crusty slab of roast pork they serve you in Munich called Schweinsbraten (if only I could have it with rice)—barring which, I’d much rather stay in Asia; make that North and East Asia, to be more specific, because I can’t stand curry, either. So it was with some trepidation that I said yes to an invitation from PR manager Yasmine Hidalgo to sample the Divine Vietnamese Cuisine at the Seven Corners restaurant at the Crowne Plaza Galleria Manila in Ortigas last week. I’d bailed out of a couple of previous feasts she’d invited me to, but I’d planned to take Beng to Hanoi for Christmas (having gone there myself on a memorable visit many years ago), so this was probably a good opportunity to reacquaint myself with the food of the place, beyond the bowl of Vietnamese beef noodles I occasionally have for merienda at the mall. They’d flown in two guest chefs and a receptionist from the Intercontinental Hanoi Westlake to conjure lunch, and this was what had me worried, because chefs to my mind tend to go out of their way to muck up something that already looks and tastes good at the streetside food stand. As it happened, it was love at first bite—from the deep-fried spring roll with chicken and shrimps to the spicy seafood soup and the scrumptiously soft beef stew. Like I said, I’m a terrible reviewer of food, but suffice it to say that I left with a heavenly smile on my face, proof positive that the charms of good food can penetrate even the densest of diners. That may not be the compliment that chefs Nguyen Trung Khien and Nguyen Minh were looking for, but I’d be happy to risk my reputation as a philistine on this recommendation: hie off to the Seven Corners anytime until August 31st for a meal that will make you want to fly to Hanoi for more of the same. Email me at penmanila@yahoo.com, and visit my blog at www.penmanila.net.