SLA No.

1: An Overview of Philippine Literary History

Subject Code/Number: Q1LC1
Subject Title: 21st Century Literature from the Philippines and the World

TIMELINE OF PHILIPPINE LITERATURE

I. Pre-colonial (BC to 1564)

A. Characteristics
1. Based on oral traditions
2. Crude on ideology and phraseology

B. Literary Forms
1. Oral Literature
a. Riddles (bugtong)- battle of wits among participants
tigmo- Cebu
paktakon- Iloilo
patotdon- Bicol
b. Proverbs (salawikain)- wise saying that contain a metaphor used to teach as a
food for thought.
c. Tanaga- a mono-riming heptasyllabic quatrain expressing insights and lessons
on life is “more emotionally charged than the terse proverb and thus has
affinities with the folk lyric”.

2. Folk Songs- a form of fold lyric which expresses the hopes and aspirations, the
people’s lifestyles as well as their loves. These are often repetitive and sonorous,
didactic and naive
a. Hele or oyayi- lullaby
b. Ambahan (Mangyan)- 7-syllable per line poem that are about human
relationships and social entertainment.
c. Kalusan (Ivatan)- work songs that depict the livelihood of the people
d. Tagay (Cebuano and Waray)- drinking song
e. Kanogan (Cebuano)- song of lamentation for the dead

3. Folk Tales
a. Myth- explain how the world was created, how certain animals possess
certain characteristics, why some places have waterfalls, volcanoes,
mountains, flora or fauna.
b. Legends- explain the origin of things
c. Fables- used an animal characters and allegory
d. Fantastic Stories – deal with underworld characters such as “tiyanak”
“aswang” “kapre” and others.

4. Epics- these are narratives of sustained length based on oral tradition revolving
around supernatural events or heroic deeds.

II. Spanish Colonization Period (1565-1863)

A. Characteristics
1. It has two distinct classifications: religious and secular
 2. It introduced Spanish as the medium of communication
B. Literary Forms
1. Religious Literature- religious lyrics written by Iatino poets or those versed in both
Spanish and Tagalog were included in early catechism and were uses to teach
Filipinos the Spanish language.
a. Pasyon- long narrative poem about the passion and death of Christ. The most
popular was “Ang Mahal na Passion ni Jesu Cristong Panginoon Natin” by
Aguino de Belen.
b. Senakulo- dramatization of the pasyon, it shows the passion and death of
Christ
2. Secular (non-relisious) Literature
a. Awit – colorful tales of chivalry made for singing and chanting Ex. Ibong
Adarna
b. Korido – metrical tale written in octosyllabic quatrains
c. Prose Narratives – written to prescribe proper decorum
i. Dialogo
ii. Ejemplo
iii. Manual de Urbanidad
iv. Tratado

III. Nationalistic/Propaganda And Revolutionary Period (1864-1896)

A. Characteristics
1. Planted seeds of nationalism in Filipinos
2. Language shifted from Spanish to Tagalog
3. Addressed the masses instead of the “intelligentsia”
B. Literary Forms
1. Propaganda Literature- Reformatory in objective
a. Political Essays- satires, editorials and news articles were written to attack
and expose the evils of Spanish rule.
i. Diariong Tagalog- founded by Marcelo H. Pilar
ii. La Solidaridad- editor-in-chief is Graciano Lopez Jaena
b. Political Novels
i. Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo – Jose Rizal’s masterpieces that
paved the way to the revolution.
2. Revolutionary Literature- more propagandastic than literary as it is more violent
in nature and demanded complete independence for the country.
a. Political Essays – helped inflame the spirit of revolution
i. Kalayaan- newspaper of the society, edited by Emilio Jacinto
b. Poetry
ii. True Decalogue- Apolinario Mabini
iii. Katapusang Hibik ng Pilipinas- Andres Bonifacio
iv. Liwanag at Dilim- Emilio Jacinto

IV. American Colonial Period (1910-1945)

A. Period of Apprenticeship (1910-1930)
1. Filipino Writers imitated English and American models
2. Poems written were amateurish and mushy, which phrasing and diction is
awkward and artificial.
 a. Short Stories
i. Dead Stars- Paz Marquez Benitez (the first English short story written by a
Filipino)
ii. The Key- Paz Latorena
iii. Footnote to Youth –Jose Garcia Villa
b. Novels
i. Child of Sorrow- first novel in English by Zoilo Galang
B. Period of Emergence (1920-1930)
1. Highly influenced by Western literary trends like Romanticism and Realism.
a. Short Stories- most prevalent literary form
i. Jose Garcia Villa- earned the international title “Poet of the Century”

V. Japanese Occupation (1942-1960)

A. War Years (1942-1944)
1. Tagalog poets broke away from the Balagtas tradition and instead wrote in simple
language and free verse
2. Fiction prevailed over poetry
a. 25 Pinakambuting Maikling Kathang Pilipino (1943)- compilation of the short
story contest by the military government
i. Suyuan sa Tubigan- Macario Pineda
ii. Lupang Tinubuan- Narciso Reyes
iii. Uhaw ang Tigang na Lupa- Liwayway Arceo
B. Period of Maturity and Originality (1945-1960)
1. Bountiful harvest in poetry, fiction, drama and essay
2. Filipino writers mastered English and familiarized themselves with diverse
techniques.
3. Literary “giants” appeared
a. Palanca Awards for Literature
i. Jose Garcia Villa
ii. Gregorio Brillantes
iii. Nick Joaquin
iv. Gilda Cordero Fernando
v. NVM Gonzales
vi. Bienvenido Santos
b. National Artist Awards
i. Jose Garcia Villa
ii. Nick Joaquin

VI. Contemporary/Modern Period (1960-Present)

A. Characteristics
1. Martial Law repressed and curtailed human rights, including freedom of the press
2. Writers symbolisms and allegories to drive home their message, at the face of
censorship
3. Theater was used as a vehicle for protest, such as the PETA (Phil. Educational
Theater Association) and UP Theater.
4. From the eighties onward, writers continue to show dynamism and innovation
SLA No. 2: Introduction to the 21st Century Literature
Subject Code/Number: Q1LC1
Subject Title: 21st Century Literature from the Philippines and the World

21ST CENTURY LITERATURE

by Isagani Cruz

The proposed curriculum for Senior High School (SHS) contains two literature subjects – “21 st Century
Literatures of the World” and “21st Century Literatures from the (Philippine) Regions.” (It has been
suggested that the latter be changed to “Contemporary Philippine Literature and the Arts from the
Regions.”)

These are derived from the two literature subjects in the old General Education Curriculum (GEC),
namely, “Literatures of the World” and “Literatures of the Philippines.” In the new GEC, these two
literature subjects are no longer included, because the new core subjects are all interdisciplinary
rather than disciplinal.

The two subjects in SHS are disciplinal. They are meant to ensure that all Filipino high school
graduates have a good understanding of what is happening today in the field of literature, and by
extension, in the arts.

Why 21st century only? Simply because SHS students were all born in or just before the 21st century.
This century is their century. For them, the 20th century is what the 19th century is to us teachers.
There is also another reason. Just as the British writer Virginia Woolf said of the turn of the 20 th
century, namely, that “on or about December 1910 human character changed,” something major
happened to literature on or about December 2000. C21: Centre for Research in Twenty-first Century
Writings, based in the University of Brighton, puts it succinctly: “The
first decade of the new millennium witnessed a range of exciting developments in contemporary
writings in English, from innovations in recognized forms such as the novel, poem, play and short
story to developments in digital writings, creative writings and genres.

Alongside these developments, the publishing industry also changed, with technological advances
giving rise to the
dawn of the eBook and corporate sponsorship igniting debates about the usefulness of literary prizes
and festivals.” Just think of the most recent literary texts done in the Philippines. We have “textula,” a
poetry genre mastered by Frank Rivera: entire poems are written and read on mobile phones. Graphic
novels are becoming as respectable as prose novels among literary critics. Poems meant to be recited
in front of large audiences have become more fashionable than poems meant to be read silently by a
single reader (fulfilling one of Cirilo Bautista’s prophecies about the future of poetry, by the way).

Elsewhere in the world, writers are doing things they did not do much until recently. Think of prose
novels being serialized on blogs, with readers suggesting to authors (and authors obediently
accepting) that the plot or the characters should be changed. Think of hypertextual poems, where
readers move from one website to another because of embedded links in the words, sometimes not
returning to the original pages at all. Think of enhanced eBooks, where readers are treated to
audiovisual clips that not only support the narrative in a novel, but actually are crucial to the
development of plot and character. Think of flash fiction, which has been brought to an extreme with
six-word and even one-word short stories.
 Of course, none of these forms of literature were born only in the 21st century. Hypertext, for
example, has been around for at least two decades. Six-word short stories have been around for a
long time. The best-known is Ernest Hemingway’s six-word story: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.”
Urban legend (which may actually be true) says
Hemingway called it his best work. Pre-21st century writers like Margaret Atwood have written such
stories. Atwood, for example, wrote this: “Longed for him. Got him. Shit.” Neil Gaiman (perhaps the
best example of a 20th century writer who has successfully transformed himself into a 21st century
writer) wrote this: “I’m dead. I’ve missed you. Kiss …?”

There is a growing body of literary criticism on 21st century literature. There is, for example, an entire
journal devoted to it, “C21 Literature: Journal of 21st Century Writing.” There have been several
professional conferences on the topic, such as “E-reading between the lines: 21st century literature,
digital platforms and literacies” last July in Brighton. The paper titles reveal some of the main trends
in the emergent field: “Digital Theory on Literature Reading Lists, The Digitization of Reader Response,
Star Texts: The Next Generation, The Book App, Digital Literatures: Digital Democracies [or] Digital
Threats?” The conference raised a practical question: “Should readers
be given the choice of both printed and electronic formats – or is the (printed) book set to become
the vinyl of the twenty-first century?”

In our country, graphic novels such as Ferdinand Benedict G. Tan and Jonathan A. Baldisimo’s “Trese
5: Midnight Tribunal” and Carlo Vergara’s “Zsazsa Zaturnnah sa Kalakhang Maynila 1” are challenging
the traditional definition of fiction. Even more in-your-face is Alan Navarra’s “Ang Panlimang Alas ay
Nakabaon sa Iyong Dibdib,” a literary text that defies classification into any of the traditional
categories of “poetry, fiction, and drama.” (Even if we added the genre-come-lately Creative
Nonfiction, Navarra’s work still does not quite fit in.)

Since curricular reform happens only every decade, the SHS curriculum will still be in place by the year
2022. By that year, the 20th century will no longer be in the memory of our students. We predigital
teachers of the two literature subjects must ensure that their frame of reference will be theirs and
not ours.

What is Manila-centrism?

BUILDING THE NATIONAL

By Butch Dalisay

I’m in Cebu as I write is, attending the second edition of Taboan, the Philippine International Writers
Festival which was first held in Manila at about this same time last year, February being National Arts
Month.

Taboan will be making the rounds of the regions from year to year before returning to Manila, so this
moveable feast (poet and NCCA commissioner Ricky de Ungria beat me to the metaphor) will see
many places yet.

The Arts Council of Cebu under the very gracious festival director Mayen Tan and president a Petite
Garcia is in charge of Taboan ’10, a project of the Committee on Literary Arts of the National
Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA).
The festival got off to a lively start with a keynote speech by Cebu’s own Dr. Resil Mojares — a
formidable, internationally recognized scholar of Philippine literature, history, and society — who
chose a deliberately provocative subject and title for his talk: “Will Magdalena Jalandoni Ever Be a
National Artist?”

For those who don’t know Jalandoni (and — perhaps to prove Resil’s point — 99.99 percent of us
don’t), the Iloilo-born Jalandoni (1891-1978) was a prolific writer in Hiligaynon of fiction, poems, and
plays, her novels alone totaling an astounding 36.

Resil made it clear that he wasn’t making a brief for Jalandoni’s selection as a National Artist; with
typical scholarly modesty, he said that he simply didn’t know her work well enough to make that
judgment. Rather, he was using Jalandoni’s case to draw attention to the gross disadvantage at which
Filipino writers working in languages other than English and Filipino lie, particularly when it comes to
recognition on a national or international level.

While they may have achieved much in their own literature in, say, Cebuano, Bikol, or Hiligaynon,
they remain obscure elsewhere, because their work has been little translated, little critically reviewed,
and therefore little seriously considered for national or international awards.

Jalandoni is hardly alone in this predicament; the Philippine literary landscape is littered with the
skeletons of mute inglorious Miltons whom most Filipinos will have never heard of, much less read.
Critiquing the NA selection process — of which he himself was occasionally a part, one of the expert
“peers” who sift through the nominees at the first level — Mojares noted that “In the discussion of
the nominees of Jalandoni last year, all the 10 or 12 members of the ‘Council of Elders’ (except
perhaps for one or two) had not read Jalandoni’s works, either due to language, unavailability of texts
or translations, or simply because Jalandoni did not fall within their area of expertise.

This has been the problem in the three or four times in which she was nominated. “This is abetted by
a procedural constraint. Because of confidentiality rules, members of the Council of Experts know
who the candidates are only on the day of deliberation itself. Hence, they have no time to prepare for
the deliberations by way of reading, research, or consultations with those knowledgeable about
particular candidates. Although brief research reports are prepared by the Secretariat for reference
by Council members, these reports are made available only on the day of the deliberation and are not
of much help.”

Again, Resil was really much less concerned about awards than by the inequality (and, therefore, the
injustice) of popular perceptions. “The politics of national recognition” he went on to say, “is such
that it matters where you are read, in what language, and by whom.

Someone who publishes in Hiligaynon (or Cebuano, Waray, or Iluko) in a periodical with a circulation
of 50,000 is a ‘regional writer.’ A writer in Manila who publishes a 500-copy of English poems is a
‘national writer.’” (Interestingly enough, we’re holding our sessions at the Casino Español de Cebu, a
social and architectural tribute to a language we’ve almost entirely lost, literarily.)

The marginalization of writing from the regions has been a long-festering sore in the body of
Philippine cultural politics, and Taboan’s discussions following Resil’s speech revived some of those
familiar issues.
To the Antique-born poet and playwright John Iremil Teodoro, the common practice of denoting any
writing outside Manila as “regional” literature merely reinforced “Manila-centrism,” according, by
implication, a superior quality to products coming out of the capital. However, to Carlo Arejola from
Bicol, the regional badge was a challenge rather than a hindrance. “You don’t need to look to Manila
for approval or affirmation,” Carlo said. “You can create a readership among yourselves. We created
our own awards, our own workshop.” Indeed, as other delegates and Resil himself echoed, the
question to ask was “What can the regions do for themselves?”

I offered the opinion that, while some form of affirmative action or intervention may be required to
level the playing field, there’s a point at which the national/regional or national/local dichotomy
becomes patronizing and ultimately more destructive than constructive. It’s not as if a Cebuano writer
can or will only think of Cebuano, and not national or global, ideas; one’s local roots and experiences
may provide strong, unique material, but that’s still only raw material, yet to be refined. And the
world out there couldn’t care less: it doesn’t see us as Tagalog, Iluko, or Bikol writers — we’re just all
Filipino writers, period, and perhaps we should think as such.

Resil Mojares’ conclusion put it succinctly: “The greater challenge lies outside the awards. We need to
address inequalities in conditions of literary and cultural production by investing more heavily (by the
regions themselves and not just Manila) in more effective and strategic initiatives in scholarship,
literary education, translation, publishing, dissemination, and promotion. We need to build the
national in the National [Artist] Awards.” I’ve always suspected that a great work will manifest that
greatness in whatever language it’s written in or translated into. (Of course, you need to have that
translation first.) Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.

Clearly, before we can begin recognizing good and great Filipino writers from all parts of the country,
we should lay the critical groundwork and first develop and support translators and critics who can
give literary judges a fairer basis for their evaluations.

Curious about how the Nobel Prize committee in charge of literature managed to choose a laureate
from hundreds of nominees writing in a dozen languages, I Googled the subject and discovered the
following exchange at nobelprize.org between Professor Horace Engdahl, Permanent Secretary of the
Swedish Academy, and a reader who sent in the same question I had in mind.

Question: Are Nobel Prizes in literature based on the assessment of the writings in its original
language, translations, or both? If assessed in the original language, how does one remove
nationalistic interests, if any, from the nomination process? Unlike physics, chemistry, etc., where the
symbolism/equations/conventions are clearly agreed upon globally, I would imagine that language
and its interpretation would pose an additional challenge.

Answer: Whenever possible, the Nobel committee and the Academy will read the works of the
candidates in the original language. Obviously, we often have to rely on translations, but in those
cases, we make an effort to read several versions of the same book, e.g. one French and one German
translation. It is true that literature, unlike science, is rooted in a cultural code with language as its
most important expression, but a great work of literature should have the power to reveal the
universal meaning of local symbols and conventions.

Re-read that last sentence; I couldn’t have said it better.

SLA No. 3: Luzon: Genres of Urban Writing
Subject Code/Number: Q1LC2a; Q1LC3; Q1LC5
Subject Title: 21st Century Literature from the Philippines and the World

Apo on the Wall by Bj Patino

There’s this man’s photo on the wall

Of my father’s office at home, you
Know, where father brings his work,
Where he doesn’t look strange
Still wearing his green uniform
And colored breast plates, where,
To prove that he works hard, he
Also brought a photo of his boss
Whom he calls Apo, so Apo could
You know, hang around on the wall
Behind him and look over his shoulders
To make sure he’s snappy and all.
Father snapped at me once, caught me
Sneaking around his office at home
Looking at the stuff on his wall- handguns,
Plaques, a sword, medals a rifle-
Told me that was no place for a boy
Only men, when he didn’t really
Have to tell me because, you know,
That photo of Apo on the wall was already
Looking at me around,
His eyes following me like he was
That scary Jesus in the hallway, saying
I know what you’re doing.

Guide questions:

1. Q: How would you describe the persona and the persona's father? How would describe their
relationship? Would you say that your relationship with your father is similar or different?
Explain.
A: The persona is a child that is curious about the picture of Apo on the wall. His father is strict
and works for the government (he's a soldier). Their relationship is like a boss and employee
because the persona needs to follow what his father wants in order for his father to become
happy. Our relationship with my father is similar but it's just that my father is not strict.

2. Q: In lines 12-13 in the poem, there is the use of the words “snappy” and “snapped”,
respectively. What do these words mean? How do they add to the poem in terms of sound?
How do they add to your understanding of the relationship between the father and the son?
 A: Snappy means to be able to move quickly while being marked by vigor. On the other hand,
snapped means to utter sharp biting words. These other words add to the poems sound by
providing words that seem to be sounding similar. They aid to understand that the father was
rigorous even to his son by being particular about following the rules.

3. Q: Who is Apo in the poem? Cite evidence to support your answer.

A: Apo was the boss of child’s father in the poem from lines 7 to 9 (To prove that he works hard,
he also brought a photo of his boss whom he calls Apo). Apo is powerful and he is none other
than the famous Dictator himself, Ferdinand Marcos.

4. Q: How would you describe the relationship between the persona’s father and Apo? What does
this tell us about the father’s perspective about martial law?
A: The relationship between the persona’s father and Apo is that of loyal servant and a king. This
tells us that whatever Apo decided to do, the persona’s father will surely follow.

5. Q: What kind of values does the persona’s father want to teach to his child, specifically, about
what it means to be a man? Do you agree with these values? Why or why not?
A: The values that the father wants to teach his child is discipline and respect to the elders and
to those who are much higher than you, even if they are not around. In the Filipino culture, if we
respect others, they will also respect us back. We need to follow the people who have
authorities to avoid being reprimanded.

6. Q: Why is Apo compared to the “scary” Jesus in the hallway? What do they seem to have in
common?
A: Apo, who is Ferdinand Marcos, is compared to the “scary” Jesus in the hallway because they
are both powerful. “His eyes are following me like he was that scary Jesus in the hallway saying I
know, I know what you are doing,” is the line that shows how powerful Apo is.

7. Q: Read the last line of the poem. What does it mean? How does this regulate the persona’s
behavior?
A: This connotes the feeling of the Filipinos who were afraid over the power and authority
Marcos’s dictatorship. Their fear is self-imposed prison that kept them from having their human
rights, freedom of speech and voice of justice.

8. Q: Do you think the persona’s perspective about martial law is the same as his father’s? Why or
why not?
A: No, the narrator was clearly juvenile and shallow. His curiosity was all in. His father once told
him: that was no place for a boy, only men. The narrator thought, it means so he doesn’t roam
around and touch his father’s things that may injure him. But by analyzing that statement, it
probably means more than that, isn’t it? At his young age, he can’t fully understand what his
father was really trying to mean, he can only interpret them literally.

9. Q: How does this poem provide the reader a glimpse of what martial law was like? How did the
poem make you feel?
A: It is a reflection of the scenario of what and how the Filipinos experienced the tragic and
traumatic event throughout the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines. Apo on the
wall shows the real situation concerning with the different perspective between millennial and
those who lived through Martial Law.