Alex Maskara
Thoughts, Stories, Imagination of Filipino American Alex Maskara
Book Reviews
~
I am trying to return to my good old habits. At my senior age, I now have the privilege of filtering tasks—choosing those that bring me the most joy and setting aside those that don’t. Leisurely habits, like internet surfing and social media, are beginning to feel more like distractions than sources of fulfillment. They are entertaining, but as a means of self-enrichment, they fall short. Personally, I lean toward good old reading and creative self-expression. These are timeless traditions that cannot be replaced simply because new technologies are more exciting or trendy.
Take art, for example. Creating art is far more fulfilling than merely consuming it through a screen. Similarly, reading a webpage that summarizes a book pales in comparison to reading the entire book yourself and forming your own impressions. This principle applies to sciences, learning, and skills—they are more enjoyable and enriching in their raw, unprocessed forms. It’s akin to food: the meals you plant, harvest, and prepare yourself are more satisfying than those bought from a store.
When I was young, I was always pressed for time. In the hustle of earning a living, I often paused and prayed for a future when I could stop working and indulge in the things I love—like reading. We’ve all had those moments when we were young and busy, vowing to pursue our passions once we had the time, assuming we’d still have the health and resources to enjoy them. Time is our most precious resource, and the last thing we want is to squander it when it finally becomes ours to control.
Now, in my retirement, I’ve discovered a new challenge: taming the technology that could easily consume this hard-earned free time. I’m talking about the internet and, more specifically, social media. At one point, I was deeply immersed in it. But over time, I realized it was pulling me away from the dreams I had nurtured in my youth. I had envisioned retiring to a quiet village, surrounded by fields, forests, and mountains, reading book after book, journeying into different worlds, and meeting fascinating characters. I even dreamed of creating my own characters.
Instead, I found myself caught up in the digital world. Meanwhile, the family I once imagined spending my time with is fading. My siblings and old friends are passing away, one by one. The generation before me is already gone, leaving only my peers and me, each confronting the same inevitable decline.
This realization has brought urgency to my remaining time. Now, my focus is on creating memories and storing meaningful experiences. Technology plays a role in this; I take pictures of everything I encounter and store them digitally. Some of these images I post on social media, which has its benefits. However, the initial promise of social media—to connect us with family and friends—has been overshadowed by algorithms designed to addict users, measuring self-worth through likes and views.
While there’s nothing inherently wrong with this business model, I’ve realized that pursuing likes and views can easily become a trap. For someone like me, it’s easy to mistake fleeting digital engagement for potential success. Yet the reality, based on my own experience, is that it’s often a futile pursuit. The saddest part is how these platforms can hypnotize you, luring you into an endless cycle of scrolling—image after image, reel after reel—until hours of precious time have vanished.
I’ve resolved to take control. I now limit my social media use to two hours a day. This time includes creating digital content to store the imagery and events of my life, which I can revisit when I’m no longer able to experience them physically. I imagine myself in a nursing home, alone in my room, holding these snapshots of a life once filled with action. To me, that is the greatest value of today’s technology.
But there is something else equally important.
Every individual is uniquely gifted. I firmly believe that each of us has talents—something we excel at because we seek it out, practice it, and share it enthusiastically with others.
(to continue)
2024-12-05 20:56:55
bookreviews
The Anchored Angel edited by Eileen Tabios
"It's the FORM, stupid! Not the MEANING!"
---
Garcia Villa championed structure and form in poetry—so much so that when he encountered poems teeming with meaning, he labeled them prose. After reading _The Anchored Angel_, I've come to two conclusions about him: Garcia Villa was good, and Garcia Villa was bad.
At my age, the more I dive into our Filipino authors—those we now consider canonical, who cultivated Philippine English Literature—the clearer I see what went right and wrong with our literature. Or maybe I expect too much from Philippine literature in English, given that we’ve only had the language for about a hundred years. Then again, we never had a robust Spanish literature after 300 years of colonization either, and our Tagalog literature hasn’t flourished to any great heights despite being used for millennia.
Something went wrong. There’s something amiss when we lament our people's disinterest in reading Filipino-authored literature. Something's off when a friend of mine, after learning that I review Philippine Lit, casually remarks, "Philippine Lit is dead, honey."
Worse still—I have no defense to offer.
I wish I could hold up Garcia Villa as the exemplar of our English literature, but to my dismay, after reading his poetry and the essays about him in _The Anchored Angel_, I found him more of a culprit than a hero.
Let me explain—and please, keep in mind, I’m no expert in poetry.
I admire Garcia Villa’s experimental spirit, his boldness, his independence, his comma poems, his almost-too-perfect lines. But since I am no poet myself, I don’t quite understand him, nor am I sure I want to.
To my disappointment, Garcia Villa turned out to be everything I’m not. He sought structure and form, sacrificing meaning just so his poems could sing. But I don’t care for singing poems. I don’t want to be bound by pre-defined rules (who made these rules for fiction, anyway?) in writing. I detest formulas. And I certainly don’t write to emulate some overreaching foreign writer. I revel in chaos. I never saw the Beatniks’ work as "typewriting" (a line Garcia Villa borrowed from Truman Capote). And to be honest, Capote and Villa—both as queer as I am—embody the kind of characters I avoid in gay circles. Honey, from what I’ve read, Garcia Villa is as much of a “queenie” as any princess you’d meet at the club.
I want poems that tell me earth-shattering truths. No make-up, no tiaras, no perfectly defined eyeliner, no meticulously chosen foundation, no striving for some idealized beauty like Miss America.
In other words, no matter how divinely crafted a poem is, an orgasm is still an orgasm. You can be in Buckingham Palace or on a corner in Recto—an orgasm feels the same. The key is—you must feel it.
---
You Don’t Listen, You Feel
I bring up Garcia Villa's writing to tie it back to our English literature, because, in a way, he led what was considered the "Golden Age" of English writing in the Philippines. During his heyday, he was given a title equivalent to the "Emperor of English Literature." His “feats” were even celebrated in a regular newspaper column. In this case, “feat” meant that Garcia Villa had managed to be accepted into the literary world of the West, supposedly standing toe-to-toe with Western writers. I have no problem with him becoming a Western icon—what disturbs me is the negligence of the public from which his writing emerged and for whom it should have been directed: the Filipino people.
And now, when we wonder why Garcia Villa was eventually forgotten by the West, the answer is simple: he wrote for a people who never considered him one of their own. His greatest mistake was neglecting the Filipino readers who should have been his primary audience.
His flamboyant persona, his stubborn refusal to return to the Philippines—even briefly—despite the longing of every Filipino for his presence, is not a source of pride. A writer should not be solely concerned with his self-concept; he must also consider the wishes of the readers who love him. Garcia Villa was no Greta Garbo. He should have been a Mark Twain.
A writer must nurture not only their craft but also their audience. This is one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned from computer programming. If you want your program to work, to be useful and popular, its interface must be user-friendly. And trust me, the simpler and more intuitive you want your program to be, the more effort it requires.
The greatest writers, in my view, are not those whose works can only be deciphered by the "anchored angels" of heaven. The greatest writers are those who can be understood by everyone—down to the insects and the scum of the earth. If my writing can be grasped by a typical high school student, then I’ve succeeded.
If the founders of Philippine English literature had prioritized a more people-oriented approach, I believe our literature would have thrived. This is where I disagree with many Filipino writers—we often write as if our readers were Americans, Brits, or some other foreign audience. Sometimes it feels like we write just to show off our grasp of grammar or parade our hefty vocabulary. Other times, it seems like we’re writing to impress other writers, win awards, or meet the expectations of some literary figure.
I praise Garcia Villa for his style, but I reject the philosophy behind his writing. I’m not trying to dishonor his legacy as one of the greatest Filipino writers—especially not after his passing. Garcia Villa might have said, "Rizal was a great man, but not a great writer." Writers, after all, have different views on what constitutes great Philippine literature.
If you’re curious to learn more about this enigmatic and controversial Filipino figure, order _The Anchored Angel from Kaya Press.
This review was edited from its original in early 2000's - AM
2024-09-28 06:53:57
bookreviews
Readings (part1)
I am trying to return to my good old habits. At my senior age, I now have the privilege of filtering tasks—choosing those that bring me the most joy and setting aside those that don’t. Leisurely habits, like internet surfing and social media, are beginning to feel more like distractions than sources of fulfillment. They are entertaining, but as a means of self-enrichment, they fall short. Personally, I lean toward good old reading and creative self-expression. These are timeless traditions that cannot be replaced simply because new technologies are more exciting or trendy.
Take art, for example. Creating art is far more fulfilling than merely consuming it through a screen. Similarly, reading a webpage that summarizes a book pales in comparison to reading the entire book yourself and forming your own impressions. This principle applies to sciences, learning, and skills—they are more enjoyable and enriching in their raw, unprocessed forms. It’s akin to food: the meals you plant, harvest, and prepare yourself are more satisfying than those bought from a store.
When I was young, I was always pressed for time. In the hustle of earning a living, I often paused and prayed for a future when I could stop working and indulge in the things I love—like reading. We’ve all had those moments when we were young and busy, vowing to pursue our passions once we had the time, assuming we’d still have the health and resources to enjoy them. Time is our most precious resource, and the last thing we want is to squander it when it finally becomes ours to control.
Now, in my retirement, I’ve discovered a new challenge: taming the technology that could easily consume this hard-earned free time. I’m talking about the internet and, more specifically, social media. At one point, I was deeply immersed in it. But over time, I realized it was pulling me away from the dreams I had nurtured in my youth. I had envisioned retiring to a quiet village, surrounded by fields, forests, and mountains, reading book after book, journeying into different worlds, and meeting fascinating characters. I even dreamed of creating my own characters.
Instead, I found myself caught up in the digital world. Meanwhile, the family I once imagined spending my time with is fading. My siblings and old friends are passing away, one by one. The generation before me is already gone, leaving only my peers and me, each confronting the same inevitable decline.
This realization has brought urgency to my remaining time. Now, my focus is on creating memories and storing meaningful experiences. Technology plays a role in this; I take pictures of everything I encounter and store them digitally. Some of these images I post on social media, which has its benefits. However, the initial promise of social media—to connect us with family and friends—has been overshadowed by algorithms designed to addict users, measuring self-worth through likes and views.
While there’s nothing inherently wrong with this business model, I’ve realized that pursuing likes and views can easily become a trap. For someone like me, it’s easy to mistake fleeting digital engagement for potential success. Yet the reality, based on my own experience, is that it’s often a futile pursuit. The saddest part is how these platforms can hypnotize you, luring you into an endless cycle of scrolling—image after image, reel after reel—until hours of precious time have vanished.
I’ve resolved to take control. I now limit my social media use to two hours a day. This time includes creating digital content to store the imagery and events of my life, which I can revisit when I’m no longer able to experience them physically. I imagine myself in a nursing home, alone in my room, holding these snapshots of a life once filled with action. To me, that is the greatest value of today’s technology.
But there is something else equally important.
Every individual is uniquely gifted. I firmly believe that each of us has talents—something we excel at because we seek it out, practice it, and share it enthusiastically with others.
(to continue)
2024-12-05 20:56:55
bookreviews
Anchored Angel Review
The Anchored Angel edited by Eileen Tabios
"It's the FORM, stupid! Not the MEANING!"
---
Garcia Villa championed structure and form in poetry—so much so that when he encountered poems teeming with meaning, he labeled them prose. After reading _The Anchored Angel_, I've come to two conclusions about him: Garcia Villa was good, and Garcia Villa was bad.
At my age, the more I dive into our Filipino authors—those we now consider canonical, who cultivated Philippine English Literature—the clearer I see what went right and wrong with our literature. Or maybe I expect too much from Philippine literature in English, given that we’ve only had the language for about a hundred years. Then again, we never had a robust Spanish literature after 300 years of colonization either, and our Tagalog literature hasn’t flourished to any great heights despite being used for millennia.
Something went wrong. There’s something amiss when we lament our people's disinterest in reading Filipino-authored literature. Something's off when a friend of mine, after learning that I review Philippine Lit, casually remarks, "Philippine Lit is dead, honey."
Worse still—I have no defense to offer.
I wish I could hold up Garcia Villa as the exemplar of our English literature, but to my dismay, after reading his poetry and the essays about him in _The Anchored Angel_, I found him more of a culprit than a hero.
Let me explain—and please, keep in mind, I’m no expert in poetry.
I admire Garcia Villa’s experimental spirit, his boldness, his independence, his comma poems, his almost-too-perfect lines. But since I am no poet myself, I don’t quite understand him, nor am I sure I want to.
To my disappointment, Garcia Villa turned out to be everything I’m not. He sought structure and form, sacrificing meaning just so his poems could sing. But I don’t care for singing poems. I don’t want to be bound by pre-defined rules (who made these rules for fiction, anyway?) in writing. I detest formulas. And I certainly don’t write to emulate some overreaching foreign writer. I revel in chaos. I never saw the Beatniks’ work as "typewriting" (a line Garcia Villa borrowed from Truman Capote). And to be honest, Capote and Villa—both as queer as I am—embody the kind of characters I avoid in gay circles. Honey, from what I’ve read, Garcia Villa is as much of a “queenie” as any princess you’d meet at the club.
I want poems that tell me earth-shattering truths. No make-up, no tiaras, no perfectly defined eyeliner, no meticulously chosen foundation, no striving for some idealized beauty like Miss America.
In other words, no matter how divinely crafted a poem is, an orgasm is still an orgasm. You can be in Buckingham Palace or on a corner in Recto—an orgasm feels the same. The key is—you must feel it.
---
You Don’t Listen, You Feel
I bring up Garcia Villa's writing to tie it back to our English literature, because, in a way, he led what was considered the "Golden Age" of English writing in the Philippines. During his heyday, he was given a title equivalent to the "Emperor of English Literature." His “feats” were even celebrated in a regular newspaper column. In this case, “feat” meant that Garcia Villa had managed to be accepted into the literary world of the West, supposedly standing toe-to-toe with Western writers. I have no problem with him becoming a Western icon—what disturbs me is the negligence of the public from which his writing emerged and for whom it should have been directed: the Filipino people.
And now, when we wonder why Garcia Villa was eventually forgotten by the West, the answer is simple: he wrote for a people who never considered him one of their own. His greatest mistake was neglecting the Filipino readers who should have been his primary audience.
His flamboyant persona, his stubborn refusal to return to the Philippines—even briefly—despite the longing of every Filipino for his presence, is not a source of pride. A writer should not be solely concerned with his self-concept; he must also consider the wishes of the readers who love him. Garcia Villa was no Greta Garbo. He should have been a Mark Twain.
A writer must nurture not only their craft but also their audience. This is one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned from computer programming. If you want your program to work, to be useful and popular, its interface must be user-friendly. And trust me, the simpler and more intuitive you want your program to be, the more effort it requires.
The greatest writers, in my view, are not those whose works can only be deciphered by the "anchored angels" of heaven. The greatest writers are those who can be understood by everyone—down to the insects and the scum of the earth. If my writing can be grasped by a typical high school student, then I’ve succeeded.
If the founders of Philippine English literature had prioritized a more people-oriented approach, I believe our literature would have thrived. This is where I disagree with many Filipino writers—we often write as if our readers were Americans, Brits, or some other foreign audience. Sometimes it feels like we write just to show off our grasp of grammar or parade our hefty vocabulary. Other times, it seems like we’re writing to impress other writers, win awards, or meet the expectations of some literary figure.
I praise Garcia Villa for his style, but I reject the philosophy behind his writing. I’m not trying to dishonor his legacy as one of the greatest Filipino writers—especially not after his passing. Garcia Villa might have said, "Rizal was a great man, but not a great writer." Writers, after all, have different views on what constitutes great Philippine literature.
If you’re curious to learn more about this enigmatic and controversial Filipino figure, order _The Anchored Angel from Kaya Press.
This review was edited from its original in early 2000's - AM
2024-09-28 06:53:57
bookreviews
Sunday Thoughts and Book Review
THE DIARY OF ANTONIO PIGAFETTA