Literature?

06Jul09

Mao China PosterIt has always been a convention with an old friend to ask me a question about the criteria for awarding international literary prizes every time we bump into each other. The winners for the Nobel Prize in Physics, for example, he said, are mostly honored for new discoveries in their field. It based on new developments in science. It is objective. What about those in the Literature category?

Well, the Swedish Academy, which is responsible for choosing the Nobel Laureates in Literature, does not make their deliberations public until 50 years has passed. As usual, I deferred answering the question to some indefinite time in the future. I didn’t even mention that the prize is generally awarded to those, as Alfred Nobel had it in his Will, whose works it deems as “the most outstanding work in an ideal direction” and provides “the greatest benefit on mankind.”

Now that I finally have more time to think about this kind of thing, perhaps it is only appropriate that I try to finally settle the question.

Continue reading ‘Literature?’


ReadingI have always been a voracious reader. I read anything I can lay my hands: from novels to religious pamphlets, from popular culture to high culture, from romance pocket books to Dostoevsky, from Candy Magazine to Mao’s On Contradiction, from Virginia Woolf to Dan Brown, from tabloids to science fiction, and so on. Now, that I got myself in UPV’s literature program, even more so… The only difference is that it made my to-be-read list a bit more structured.

The growing accessibility of books on the internet has added a new dimension to my reading habits. Apart from scouring the secondhand bookshops, patronizing the library – which unfortunately only allows a student to borrow a maximum of five books which must be returned within two weeks, or occasionally purchasing an expensive book, I now spend a huge amount of time looking for free ebooks online.

Continue reading ‘A Case of Interpassive Reading’


A Room of One's Own[I]f woman had no existence save in the fiction written by men, one would imagine her a person of the utmost importance; very various; heroic and mean; splendid and sordid; infinitely beautiful and hideous in the extreme; as great as a man, some think even greater. But this is woman in fiction.

Virginia Woolf,
A Room of One’s Own

When asked to speak on women and fiction, Virginia Woolf replied that the topic may not be as simple as it seemed. If you speak about women and fiction, is it regarding “women and what they are like,” “women and the fiction that they write,” or is it about “women and the fiction that is written about them”? (Woolf 1) This matter, one that Woolf takes up in two talks that she gave in October 1928, becomes the basis for her book, A Room of One’s Own.

The classic work, an essay on the subject of women and writing, reads like a conversation with Woolf herself. In this chitchat, Woolf points out certain unsavory facts that may not be as obvious today as it was in her time. Why is literature written mostly by men? Why are women, who are lionized in the fiction by men, are ironically frowned upon by society when they attempt to write?

Continue reading ‘Giving Women Rooms of Their Own’


BookLast May, I pointed out that I may have fewer posts in lieu of my return to the university. Perhaps I may have to take that announcement back. Professor Jonathan Jurilla encouraged us to blog twice a week for our theory and criticism class starting this week.

Taking part in this class exercise should help liven up this virtual space, hopefully, with the participation of my classmates and our teacher. Not that there are no visitors here, no? Since I started (Mis)readings August last year, I think can identify a few regular readers.[1] Of course, it wasn’t that way always.

I published my first blog four or five years ago as an extension of my Friendster profile.[2] I cannot remember why I did it. All I can recall is that I posted a few diary-like reciting of a day’s events, convoluted political statements I wrote for my college organizations, and sometimes even juvenile poems.

Continue reading ‘A Very Brief History of My Blogging Experience’


No to Conass!“Woman changes by intrigue the universal end of the government into a private end, transforms its universal activity into a work of some particular individual, and perverts the universal property of the state into a possession and ornament for the family.” – G.W.F. Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit

The provocative passage from the German philosopher is a perfect example of the feminist claim that all hitherto existing philosophies which purport to be ’sexless’ actually privileges men. This, however, should not prevent us from getting some kernel of truth from it. What Hegel offers is a description of the workings of the majority of our country’s class of politicians who, being landlords and compradors, assume office for the sole purpose of advancing their own private interests.*

Continue reading ‘Cha-Cha and the Cynical Regime’


A certain character of admittedly limited intelligence, Monsieur Assouline, remarked on his blog – you’re either modern or you’re not – that I called those Socialists who joined the Sarkozy government ‘rats’ and christened Sarkozy himself the ‘Rat Man’. Anyone with even a modicum of education would immediately have grasped that I am referring here (not without a rhetorical subtlety they should surely commend) to the metaphor of rats leaving a sinking ship, to the legend of the Pied Piper who led the rats out of the city, and to Freud’s celebrated case of the Rat Man.* Does Monsieur Assouline have any education? He knows well enough, at least, where he wants to end up. Since the last war and the Nazis, he proclaims (follow closely), no one has ever treated anyone at all as a rat…

The oddest thing is that the leader of these media intellectuals committed to Restoration, Bernard-Henri Levy, should jump on the bandwagon without even citing his inglorious source. Thus we read in Le Monde:

In a recent book, The Meaning of Sarlcozy [De quoi Sarkozy est-il le nom?], Alain Badiou used his just struggle against what he finds ‘disgusting’ to reintroduce into the political lexicon those zoological metaphors (’rats’, ‘the Rat Man’) that Sartre unequivocally showed, in his preface to
[Fanon's] The Wretched of the Earth, always bear the mark of Fascism.**

…Sartre, throughout his essential essay The Communists and Peace, written in 1953-54, referred to anti-Communists as ‘rats’. He certainly did so with far more good humour than the way he himself was treated as a ‘typing hyena’, not by the fascists but by his Communist allies. The same Sartre uttered the famous sentence that ‘every anti-Communist is a swine’. So we see that, well after the war, animals were still used on all sides … I particularly like the Chinese usage to denote two apparent enemies who are really complicit with one another – as for Mao were the Soviet Union under Khrushchev and the United States under Kennedy, and I could say the same for my part of the Socialist Party and Sarkozy in matters of xenophobic and ’security’ legislation. The Chinese then spoke of ‘two badgers from the same hill’. I love this image, and used it in the present book with reference to a fact that my English readers will appreciate: during the election campaign, both Sarkozy and Segolene Royal praised Tony Blair – Blair, blaireau [badger] … translate it howyou can! So I’ve added to ‘zoological metaphors’ the ignominy of a play on words.

I can only plead guilty and expose myself to Sarkozy’s legislation on recidivism (legislation, let us say in passing, that is openly directed against ordinary people, and therefore abominable). I claim the right to use ‘zoological metaphors’ – I don’t have a hang-up about them. It is characteristic of politics that there are enemies, even if capitalo-parliamentarism presses its domination to the point of trying to make us forget this. And why the hell, if there are real enemies, shouldn’t I be allowed to insult them? To compare them with vultures, jackals, reptiles, even rats – not to mention hyenas, whether typing or otherwise? Not everyone can be compared with an eagle, like Bossuet, or a bull, like the Fourth Republic Prime Minister Joseph Laniel, even a fox, as Mitterrand regularly was. And now, ladies and gentlemen, a touch of humour. If Selogene Royal makes me think of a painted goat, and Prime Minister Fillon a sleeping weasel, there’s no need to hit the roof.

Enjoy your reading, whatever your favourite animal.

Paris,
22 July 2008

Alain Badiou,
Introduction to the English-Language Edition,
The Meaning of Sarkozy

* [Pierre Assouline is a writer and journalist who runs a popular blog called La
Republique des Livres
]
** ‘De quoi Sine est-il le nom?’, Bernard-Henri Levy, Le Monoe, 21 July 2008.


Dostoevsky Goes to Siberia

I'm not sure if Dostoevsky did go to Serbia in the course of his long life, but the great Russian writer served his sentence in Siberia.


(Mis)readings will have lesser posts from now on. Updates will also lag behind in terms of contemporaneity, as this very post itself exemplifies: what is being announced has become the norm for this blog since the start of the month. Hence, please allow me a brief (and obviously delayed) recap of a few things I find noteworthy. The first is a good news:

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies1. Kabataan Partylist, the sectoral party of the Filipino youth, is now in the Philippine congress with Mong Palatino as its representative. Read Mong’s message to the Filipino youth commemorating this historical event.

2. This second one is not so good: Philippine Bureau of Customs, in contravention of a United Nations Treaty which the Philippines is a signatory of, is now imposing taxes on imported books! Columnist and historian Manuel Quezon III is closely following the issue.

3. I just read Pride and Prejudice, my first book by Jane Austen. It was cute, but I would like this one better: Pride and Prejudice and Zombies: The Classic Regency Romance – Now with Ultraviolent Zombie Mayhem!.

4. Lastly, check out the cool book covers posted at The Art of Penguin Science Fiction:

http://thepenguinblog.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8341c3b2653ef0115706072b4970b-pi

Fascinating!


Why We Read

15May09

It was Camilo who gave me the book. He is dead now. He was killed at the start of the Nicaraguan insurrection that toppled the 45-year-old Somoza dynasty. We were both young. We were both aware that our country was in trouble and that all the civic avenues to change were closed: Elections were rigged, and the military captured, tortured and killed anyone who dared express opposition. Camilo showed up one day at my office with a worn-out copy of Frantz Fanon’s “The Wretched of the Earth.” The Algerian author wrote of colonialism and struggle, but his book made me realize that we Nicaraguans had no alternative but to fight the dictator. The words on the page were like hands shaking me awake. The images I had collected from living in a country where social injustice and dictatorship had cut short so many lives came galloping into my mind. I knew I couldn’t remain indifferent. Shortly afterward, I joined the Sandinista guerrillas. I remember that book often. I remember the rage but also the courage it made me feel. Books have the power to be the light we are seeking at crucial moments in our lives. Reading helps us realize we are not alone, that we can change our circumstances and even achieve the impossible. I named my son Camilo in memory of the dead friend who gave me that book.

Gioconda Belli,*
‘Why We Read’, Los Angeles Times

* The author of “Infinity in the Palm of Her Hand, a novel of Adam and Eve.”


“The sounding of the battle-drum is important; the fierce waging of the war itself is important; and the telling of the story afterwards – each is important in its own way… But if you ask me which of them takes the eagle-feather I will say boldly: the story… Now when I was younger, if you asked me the same question I would have replied without a pause: the battle. But age gives to a man some things with the right hand even as it takes away others with the left…

“So why do I say that the story is chief among his fellows? Because it is only the story that can continue beyond the war and the warrior. It is the story that outlives the sound of war-drums and the exploits of brave fighters. It is the story, not the others, that saves the cactus fence. The story is our escort; without it, we are blind. Does the blind man own his escort? No, neither do we the story; rather it is the story that owns us and directs us. It is the thing that makes us different from cattle; it is the mark on the face that sets one people apart from their neighbors.”

Chinua Achebe,
Anthills of the Savannah


Three books I bought for bargain prices in the Bacolod City branch of National Bookstore. A recent visit to one of the shop's branch here in Cebu

Three books I bought cheaply from the Bacolod City branch of National Bookstore. Fortunately, more titles from Oxford World's Classics in bargain prices are also available in the same shop's branches here in Cebu.

Collectors are people with a tactical instinct; their experience teaches them that when they capture a strange city, the smallest antique shop can be a fortress, the most remote stationery store a key position. How many cities have revealed themselves to me in the marches I undertook in pursuit of books!

Walter Benjamin,
“Unpacking My Library,”
Illuminations: Essays and Reflections


Delta of Venus by Anais Nin, Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections by Walter Benjamin.

Delta of Venus by Anais Nin, Labyrinths by Jorge Luis Borges, Illuminations: Essays and Reflections by Walter Benjamin.

After weeks of avoiding buying new books, I finally succumbed to the temptation to splurge on paper backs today. Was it the book I had at hand? I was still in chapter one and an English couple were discussing how they would marry off one of their daughters to a young bachelor who recently moved to their neighborhood. Part of the reason, of course, is I had some money to spare.

In any case, the new paperbacks would be better than destroying my eyes with texts on the Internet or the .pdfs not to mention the fact that computer screens are not always available. But even if I feel Borges would love cyberspace if he lived to experience it, I still prefer the paper book. ■


In a German PensionThat Katherine Mansfield, one of the initiators of the modern short story, was from New Zealand is quite a stroke of luck. That would mean I’ll be having two entries (the other is Torgny Lindgren’s The Way of a Serpent) for the Global Voices Book Challenge, the condition of which is to read a book from a country whose literature one haven’t read before.

To be quick about it, In a German Pension is Mansfield’s first collection of short stories published in 1911. Hesperus Press’ book description sums up the thin volume as follows:

Continue reading ‘The Original Gossip Girl’


The Way of a Serpent | Torgny LindgrenO Lord, was it him, Karl Orsa the farmer and shopkeeper, you wanted to bury that time when you tore apart Slough Hill like that, or was it me and my house and Johanna? And the children who had not yet lived their lives? – p.9

Torgny Lindgren opens The Way of a Serpent with an “Appendix to the Secretary’s Annual Report to the Vasterbotten County Agricultural Society, 1882.” In it, the official mentions a landslide, the occurrence of which “seem to be indisputable,” in “these godforsaken backwoods” where the inhabitants “have an unfortunate tendency to prefer stories to actual reality,” the sad truth of which would later become clear as we follow the short peasant Johan’s pleas to God.

Continue reading ‘In My Flesh Shall I See God’


Solomon Gursky Was HereAfter all his years on the rivers it finally struck him that he wasn’t the angler but the salmon. A teasing, gleeful Solomon casting the flies over his head, getting him to roll, rise, and dance his tail at will. P.533

In what is touted by critics as possibly Canadian author Mordecai Richler’s best novel, we accompany Moses Berger in his obsessive quest to unravel the secrets of the Gurskys, a Jewish family who ran one of the biggest Canadian business empires. Berger, the son of a Jewish poet, a drunkard and an unsuccessful writer, particularly searches for traces of Solomon Gursky, the most enigmatic of the three Gursky brothers who saw the rise of their family’s fortune during the prohibition years as bootleggers and rumrunners. Fleeing court action against him and his family, Solomon reportedly died in a plane crash.

Continue reading ‘Solomon Gursky Was Here’