Flippers meet F. Sionil Jose

We finally concluded our Rosales Saga read-along last Saturday over at Solidaridad Book Shop, with no less than the author, National Artist for Literature F. Sionil Jose.

Armed with a bunch of snacks and stacks of books, we found ourselves holed up in FSJ’s private quarters above the bookshop and spent over three hours talking about his life as a writer and reader, the Rosales books, the bookshop and so much more!

Here’s a transcript of the afternoon’s conversation:

Q. What made you decide to become a writer?
A. I didn’t. I actually wanted to become a doctor. I didn’t want to become a writer — alam ko mahirap, walang pera… I don’t know any writer na mayaman eh. Except maybe Ambeth Ocampo. Ang hirap magsulat eh. 

What happened?
A. I flunked.

“I elected to be a writer because I wanted to be a rich novelist. Wrong decision.”

Q: We read that you “think in Ilocano and write in English.” Have you ever written in Ilocano?
A. Yes, a long time ago. But I’m no longer competent in Ilocano.

What made you decide to write in English and not in Filipino?
A. Hindi naman ako Tagalog eh. Frankly, I think Ilocano is superior to Tagalog. A language is superior if it has an epic.

Q: What inspired the Rosales Saga?
A: Rizal, number one. Well dalawa lang ang [novels na] ginawa niya but I can understand, kasi pinatay siya.

“Tree” was inspired by “The Wayward Bus” by John Steinbeck, it’s one of his least known novels. This bus stalled in a small town and the chapters are short stories about people in the town. So sabi ko, “Oh I’ll do better than this.”

Faulkner also. I was writing between my late teens and early 20s and I was reading Faulkner during the Liberation… Sabi ni [literary critic] Len Casper, who used to study Faulkner, that I did what Faulker did not do. My characters are interrelated, making the Rosales Saga a serial body.

When I was starting out, my first stories talaga were copies of Faulkner, ginagaya ko siya in the way some of our writers emulate Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I did not do Marquez because in those days, when you read Faulkner already, Gabriel Garcia Marquez was passé. 

One of my Faulknerian stories lumabas sa Saturday Evening News magazine, which was then edited by NVM Gonzales. I was in Santo Tomas. The Father Dean who was very literate, Juan Labrador, obviously had read it. He said, “Let’s have merienda.”

We went to the cafeteria and he said, “When you look out of the window, what do you see?”

Sabi ko, “The high school girls playing softball, Father.”

“Suppose I put curtains on the windows, what would you see?” he asked.

“The high school girls playing softball and the curtains, Father.”

“Suppose I cover the entire window with beautiful curtains, what do you see? The curtain. Yun na lang. In writing, you must leave part of the window very clear so the reader can see something, not just the curtains. Besides, you’ll always be a third-rate Faulkner. Why don’t you become a first rate Sionil Jose?”

That was my most important lecture in literature. After that, I stopped writing like William Faulkner.

Q: What about the research involved in writing this series?

A: Doon sa “Po-on,” doon ako nahirapan. It took the longest to write. Almost 20 years. the first chapter was written in the ’50s. Kasi I had to deal with historical material. Ang mga historians natin deal with big things, not with details like, ano’ng dalang supplies ng mga Amerikano? Almost all our historians look at things from the top down, and not the bottom up.

(We open a tray of puto. FSJ quips, “Ahh, this is what I like!”)

Q: Did you plan on 5 books for the Rosales Saga?

A: No, I planned on four lang. I ended with “The Pretenders” because it was the easiest to write. I had a very bleak idea of our country and our people. But I already had a kind of conclusion for the necessity of revolution, so the suicide of Antonio Samson is not just a physical death, it’s also an allegory or a symbol for the old being replaced by something new.

What happened was, Martial Law was declared by Marcos, then ang daming inquisition: young people, one of them si Emman Lacaba whom I knew very well. So sabi ko, may pag-asa din pala ang Pilipinas kung ganun ang mga bata…

I wasn’t allowed to travel for four years under Martial Law. Then in 1976, through false assumptions I was able to get my passport back so I was able to travel. I was invited to a conference in Paris and sabi ko, I must add the concluding novel to the saga, appreciating what these young people are doing. So from the connecting flight from Hong Kong to Paris — that’s about 10 hours — hindi ako natulog, I conceptualized na. When I got to Paris the novel was complete.

“Mass” is the only novel I wrote from beginning to end — walang hinto yan! It’s also the most enjoyable novel that I wrote in the sense that I was completely absorbed in it. There was a time I didn’t eat or sleep for three days. Tubig lang. And then my hands were numb from typing, I had to write in longhand. I lost a sense of time and place.

I stayed at a very small hotel, $7 a day. I had a friend in Paris who visited me because he couldn’t imagine a $7 a day hotel in 1976; the cheapest then would be around $30. Walang bath but it had a washbowl. Saka wala akong pera pala. I was scrimping; I was living on apricots — they were in season, murang-mura — and French bread. And of course in the morning may free breakfast of croissants and coffee. Very good French coffee.

Q. Which book has sold the most copies?
A. “Mass.” Because it was first published in Dutch and it was a bestseller there. Hanggang ngayon it still sells.

Q. Of all the women characters, who did you fall in love with the most?
A. Dalin. And Ermita (from “Ermita”).

Q. The scenes in your books are so vivid and cinematic. Are these scenes taken from real life?
A. In “Ermita,” the last chapter, the epilogue, that really happened to me. When I was in Tokyo, I was really lost in Shinjuku. It’s the biggest train station, three levels, and I couldn’t read Japanese. All I knew was that it was an orange train. I finally found my train, which was about 30 minutes from where I was staying. I was there for about two weeks na, and I started thinking about sa atin, our condition dito, and I couldn’t help it, I started crying. So when I got to the place i was staying, I wrote a journal entry called ‘Lost in Shinjuku.’ When I finished Ermita, I looked up that journal and almost verbatim it became the epilogue for the historian character in the novel.

Another, during the war, I got sick of typhoid, and there was a period of two weeks that I was unconscious. Then I got well and I looked at myself, ang payat-payat ko na, parang ghost na lang, and I couldn’t get up. So one of my cousins lifted me and put me on a chair. I got sick during the dry season so the land was brown. Then when I was finally conscious, the field was green na. That made up the part [in “Po-on”] where Istak got sick. That’s me.

Q. What Filipino books would you recommend for Filipinos to read?
A: Rizal muna. Then mine, of course. But we have a lot of good Filipino writers worth reading: Nick Joaquin, Greg Brillantes, Gilda Cordero Fernando, Kerima (Polotan-Tuvera). Among the new ones, Charlson Ong.

What’s the best translation of Noli and Fili for you?
A. Yung kay Lacson.

Q. Do you think reading has a role in nation-building?
A. Of course. Very, very much. Ang problema, our leaders do not understand the importance of culture. Very few of them do.

“The old classical Marxist view is that the economy dictates the importance of culture. Baliktad! It’s culture that drives economic development.”

There are many things about Marxism that I like, but dun siya nagkamali.

Do not forget that I belong to the very old school. That is why I admire the French because they manage to make philosophy an important fixture in their literature. I myself from the very beginning include philosophy in my writing, though it is not stated as such. But the thing is, after you have read me, you start thinking. I go back to the old tradition of writers who are also teachers but moral leaders. Whatever I write, there’s philosophy involved in it.

Q. Are you still writing fiction now? What are you working on?
A. I’m working now on a new novel with the theme of theory vs. practice, but I don’t think I can continue. After I wrote “The Feet of Juan Bacnang,” my daughter who is also my reader and editor said the early lyricism is no longer there… I’ve been rereading this [theory vs practice] for the last two weeks and I don’t think I can recapture so I’m seriously thinking of not continuing anymore.

Q. How do you write? What is your process like?
A. Both typewriter and longhand. I keep a list of the characters para di ako nagkakamali. I tell young people that I find very useful discussing my work with others. The reason for that is there are issues that are clarified. I like talking to historians, because there are many scenes in our history na yung superficial lang ang alam natin. We don’t know what’s beneath.

Even before I start the novel, alam ko na yung ending, and it’s very rare that I change the ending.

So yung mga patay, alam n’yo na po na mamamatay?
Oh yeah! But you must be careful, you cannot kill your characters just like that.

Case in point, for “The Feet of Juan Bacnang” I had to consult several religious people, because it was an allegorical novel about evil: can evil be redeemed at all? Sa original, evil is redeemed. Then I talked to Fr. Carroll (of Ateneo) and this Dominican priest, and they said, “Evil cannot be redeemed.” So I followed their advice.

Q. How do you react to your critics?
A. I only pay attention to what the foreign critics say. The reason is because I don’t know them, I haven’t met them. They base their criticism on the text alone. Dito I’m criticized by the academe, mali-mali daw English ko. Bullshit — how do I get published by the biggest publisher in America? Things like that. Karamihan inggit lang yan eh. But I still read them to see kung meron akong makukuha, because that’s the function of criticism.

On Solidaridad, the ghost, and his reading list

Q. Can you tell us more about the bookshop (Solidaridad)? Do you handpick the books that come into the store?
A. We opened in 1965. What happened, I was posted in Sri Lanka as information officer to the Colombo Plan Bureau. Nung bumalik ako I had little savings, enough to start a publishing house and a journal, “Solidarity,” for which I got funding from the Congress for Cultural Freedom in Paris (which was later on charged as being a conduit for the CIA. That is why I was also accused of being a CIA agent). When I came back I was looking for a place, a couple of rooms muna, kauumpisa lang eh.

This house belonged to my in-laws. It was much, much bigger during the war. The patriarch, Monsignor Jovellano sold parts of the lot to rebuild the Catholic church in Tondo where he was parish priest. Ito lang ang naiwan. This whole area was destroyed. If you look at the trees outside, may mga tama ng kanyon.

There’s a ghost in this bookshop pala. If Nick Joaquin were here, he will tell you, he was witness to four incidents. Hiniram niya yung makinilya ko on this table…

“Incidentally, if this table could talk, maraming ikukwento yan. Many politicians here, Ninoy Aquino, Raul Manglapus, Manny Pelaez, Pepe Diokno, Luis Taruc. Nobel Prize winners have sat at this table: Wole Soyinka, Gunther Grass, Mario Vargas Llosa, Norman Mailer…”

*Cue our collective oohs and gasps*

So Nick Joaquin was typing, then he suddenly went down. “There’s a presence upstairs,” sabi niya. Second incident, he went to my room. May casillas doon, he was about to flush it when it flushed by itself!

Next, kaming dalawa, I was at that table and he was at that chair. There was a pile of long playing records on that shelf. If you didn’t know that Nick and I are very good friends, you would think we were the worst of enemies. When we start arguing ganito lang, then it becomes heated and we start shouting at each other. So we were arguing, tapos nahulog yung LPs right in front of us. Months later there was another witness, Mauro Avena, another writer. Nagsisigawan na naman kami ni Nick Joaquin. Nahulog na naman yung records right in front of us.

Eto, ako na, about three years ago. there’s a couch there where I snooze. I write at home, but I come here to read manuscripts, or when I have appointments. I was lying there awake when hinila ang left foot ko!  About two months afterwards, pinalo yung heel ko. It hurt!

Last year, I heard a crack like a pistol shot. You know what, it was a five peso coin that fell on the floor.

The last time, ginising ako talaga. “Kuya!” And there she was on the wall, in a red blouse and a black skirt, in pigtails. Earlier about 20 years ago, the wife of a former minister, teacher sa UP, who has been downstairs but never upstairs. The moment she stepped upstairs she said, ‘Frankie, there’s a presence here! But don’t worry, she’s not malignant, just naughty. She’s about 16 years old.’

So I started thinking, if she was 16 years old in 1945, I would have been 19 or 20, so tamang-tama yung tawag niya sa akin na kuya.

There’s no book here [in the bookshop] na hindi ko pinili. Because it’s tiny! We have to be very careful. When I look at the catalogs, I see something I like, then I order it. Or I see something the French might like so I order it. I never order bestsellers because they don’t sell here. We have many clients, but if we were to operate on the basis of [commerce], if we didn’t own the building, we would have closed a long time ago. Rent here is very expensive.

Q: What’s in your library?
A: I look for writers from whom I can learn. There are writers who are popular but you cannot learn from them. I like Fitzgerald, Willa Cather, Swedish writer Isak Dinesen (who wrote Out of Africa, Blixen ang ginamit niya dun), John Morris. So many of them.

I like funny books —  “The Hippopotamus” (Stephen Fry!) — and some spy novels. Noong araw binasa ko lahat yung Fleming. You can learn narrative technique from them, how these writers grip you from the very first page and hold you until the very end. It takes narrative power and development of tension to do that. But that is if you’re looking for entertainment. But I’m not looking for entertainment nalang. I’m also looking for beautiful prose.

Q: How many books do you read in a month?
A: I don’t count. But doon sa bahay, every time a new shipment comes I bring home two or three, but hindi ko naman natatapos lahat.

Currently binabasa ko yung libro ni Almonte [“Endless Journey: A Memoir” as told to veteran journalist Marites Dañguilan-Vitug.]

Eh yung memoir po ni _______, nabasa po ninyo?
A: No. Actually I was asked to publish it but I turned it down. It would have made a lot of money.

Q: How do you choose which manuscripts to publish?
A: Ngayon mahirap na kasi wala kaming pera. I only publish my books now. Kung may pupunta rito, kahit may pera siya, it all depends kung mahusay.

“When I started publishing books, may criteria eh: books of permanent value.”

***

At 90, F. Sionil Jose is still sharp as a whip and had admirable energy, gamely responding to our questions and regaling us with his anecdotes. We also had a lengthy discussion on his political views, though I’m not sure he wanted to be quoted on that, so I stopped recording. But his commentary was quite insightful and we appreciated the perspective of someone who had seen so much in his lifetime.

He then toured us around his study:

He also showed us books from his personal collection, including foreign translations of his books.

Oh and an interesting tidbit — I had to ask, “Sir, what’s the story behind the beret?”

He laughs. “There is no story. You know, hija, when I started losing my hair, I always get cold in the head, that’s why I wear a beret. When it’s hot I don’t usually wear one… The beret I can fold and put in my pocket when I want to take it off. You can’t do that with a baseball cap.”

“How many berets do you have?” I asked.

He counts. “Six.”

We had our books signed, and had our photo taken, of course. :)

It was well after dark when we emerged from Solidaridad, and we hadn’t even noticed! It was definitely a memorable author experience, and we were glad for the opportunity to get to know the grand old man of Philippine literature.