“THE MORAL stance of Apolinario Mabini was his best legacy,” said novelist F. Sionil José. “He was the most intellectual...
THE CITY of Cabanatuan and the division of city schools through the initiative of Cabanatuan Lodge No. 53 will pay...
“DAHLING, give me a beer.” Filmmaker Sari Dalena, director and co-scriptwriter of “Dahling Nick,” clearly remembers those immortal words...
CIRILO F. Bautista is, at heart, a romantic. Asked by broadcast celebrity Lourd Ernest de Veyra the most beautiful thing...
THE CENTER for Creative Writing and Literary Studies (CCWLS) of the University of Santo Tomas (UST) is hosting a testimonial...
There are occasions, very few, that turn out to be large and significant, when someone enters your life. That he is special and rare you only realize gradually, as he enriches you in so many ways, a quiet, abiding influence. As friendship grows into brotherhood and more, as you talk of little and big things. Over a breakfast of bangus, or buffet in Padre Faura, including a roast pig, during gatherings at his home in Quezon City, we talked of family, passing events, the ways of politicians, the destiny of our growing nations, and much else. Every time you meet, and after he has left, the conversations continue.
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.
It may be true that all men are created equal, but history has proven that no two love stories are written—or read—the same.
A critic, professor, dramatist, poet (with a Palanca Award in the mid-1970s, shortly after his release from detention) and so forth, Bienvenido Lumbera, National Artist for Literature, is, like his fellow writer Gilda Cordero-Fernando, “forever 81.”
