By Pablo A. Tariman
Forty-one years ago, on Sept. 22, I reported to the pre-martial law Graphic Magazine office in Port Area only to find it closed.
Cover StoryBy Ruel S. De Vera
There has never been anything like Nick Joaquin’s voice—literally. Whenever friends recall the late National Artist for Literature’s words, they launch into an impersonation that’s so spot-on it verges on the uncanny. “Darling (pronounced daah-ling),” they would say, breaking into a growl that’s sweet and improbably loud. It sounds like Joaquin is speaking through that person. It’s a voice that thunders through the years. It echoes through distinct points in our history. That voice—explosive, garrulous, unforgettable—made Nick Joaquin immortal.
By Nick Joaquin
And it was May again, said the old Anastasia. It was the first day of May and witches were abroad in the night, she said—for it was a night of divination, and night of lovers, and those who cared might peer into a mirror and would there behold the face of whoever it was they were fated to marry, said the old Anastasia as she hobbled about picking up the piled crinolines and folding up shawls and raking slippers in corner while the girls climbing into four great poster-beds that overwhelmed the room began shrieking with terror, scrambling over each other and imploring the old woman not to frighten them…
By Pam Pastor
We wanted to know—in the age of hashtags and instant everything—is there space for a great writer like Nick Joaquin? We asked ten people, all under the age of 26: “Do they know Nick Joaquin? What do they know about him?”
Today’s readers have much to learn from reading National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin. Ateneo Assistant Professor Jonathan Chua, who curates the upcoming exhibit on Joaquin, notes that aside from “the art of writing well,” readers will learn about Philippine history and culture from this literary icon’s works.