Cecil Apostol
Freeman Asian/Asian American Initiative Summer Research Grant
Summer 2006

Introduction

I often imagine the plane rides to and from the Philippines as two separate and distinct events that run parallel to each other. However, there comes a point within the eighteen-hour flight when planes traveling in both directions meet midair over the Pacific. The meeting is not a head-on collision, but rather a moment when both planes cross the same line of longitude at the exact same moment. Besides the fact that one plane travels eastbound and the other towards the west, there really is little difference between the two: they both carry the same amount of excess luggage (pasalubong goes both ways), the passengers are almost entirely Filipino, and everyone cannot wait to get home. In many ways, I see Filipino literature as a similar vehicle used to convey all the things travelers cannot check in at the baggage counter. All the emotions, thoughts, and memories that Filipinos carry with them eventually end up scattered across the globe. Filipino literature has reached the shores of the United States, Australia, England, Germany, Greece, Spain, and Saudi Arabia. Over time, these literatures have grown and developed into unique traditions that never quite lose their connections to “Las Filipinas.”

Despite the multitude of traditions available to choose from, I seek to examine the two traditions that are commonly conflated with one another: Philippine Literature in English (or Filipino English Literature) and Filipino American Literature. Though separated by a vast ocean, both the Philippines and the US are bound together by a complicated, and at times, painful history. Out of this love-hate relationship emerge two distinct literatures that are shaped by the policies, influences, and cultures of both nations.  With Philippine Literature in English, writers are obviously utilizing an American imported language while at the same time writing from a culture still very much influenced by American culture. And with Filipino American literature, many (but not all) writers use the Philippines as the material and inspiration for their work. Yet, because this transnational exchange is not a recent phenomenon, both literatures have had time to evolve and alter their foreign influences. While English has become Filipinized and Philippine pop culture has become an entity of its own, memories of the Philippines from Filipino Americans become mythical remembrances of lost paradise. Although these transnational streams seemingly run parallel to each other (like the two planes over the Pacific), I intend to find out where and when (if at all) they intersect.

As a former colony of America, the Philippines participate in a rather interesting relationship with the United States. The transnational politics of both countries have complicated perceptions of home, identity, citizenship (especially since Filipinos were regarded as foreign nationals up until 1946), allegiance, and nationality. The literatures of both Filipinos and Filipino Americans have reflected these issues in many ways. A National Artist of the Philippines, F. Sionil Jose has written an entire saga of novels which focus on the struggles of class and colonialism within the Philippines. The last novel of this Rosales saga is entitled Mass and follows the story of the illegitimate son of the previous novels’ protagonist, Antonio Samson. His son, Pepe Samson, leaves his small village of Cabugawan and eventually settles in the sprawling slums of Manila with dreams of one day reaching the US. As part of the first wave of migrants from the Philippines to the US, Carlos Bulosan writes of his immigrant experience and how he must negotiate the liminal space between these two countries in his autobiography, America Is In the Heart. Basing her work, Dogeaters, on the political turmoil of the 1970s and 1980s, Jessica Hagedorn weaves a story of both the Philippines and the US without the characters ever leaving Manila. Although the characters remain on Filipino soil, the influence of America pervades throughout her novel. While these Filipino and Filipino American authors write completely different stories at different points in time and in different cultural spaces, their works confront issues of language and reflect upon their perceptions of both America and the Philippines.

I. The Politics of Language

Although Philippine Literature in English and Filipino American literature seemingly share the same language (American English), both genres actually manipulate language in entirely different ways. Filipino English writers utilize a language introduced, or rather, forced upon their nation by the “benevolence” of their American colonizers. Yet, over time, English used in the Philippines has had time to develop and transmute the language into something distinctly Filipino. Filipino American authors, on the other hand, use English in their writings but attempt to infuse Filipino languages into their works at the same time. This integration results in a type of English which differs from both Filipinized English and American English.

A mission of democracy and civilization became the driving force for the newly established American colonial power in 1898. Introducing the American system of education remained the top priority of the American government throughout the early 20^th century. In 1901, the U.S.S. Thomas arrived with American educators (or “Thomasites”) and the English language as its most valuable cargo. Although English continues to be the primary mode of instruction in the Filipino education system, the language has evolved into a new type of English. Luis Francia describes the use of English in Filipino Literature as a way of reclaiming one’s “self”:

In a sense, many of our Filipino writers in English are engaged in the literary equivalent of guerilla warfare, using the very same weapon that had been employed to foist another set of foreign values upon a ravished nation, but now as a part of an arsenal meant for conscious self-determination and the unwieldy process of reclaiming psychic territory of the invader (Introduction, xiv).

When Francia equates the appropriation of English with guerilla warfare tactics, he more than adequately captures the Filipino spirit of independence and resilience. During an in-person interview, Dr. Gémino Abad stated that “Language is a very malleable tool that you can shape to your own purposes. In regard to English, it can be said that at first our writers wrote in English, but later, they wrought from English” (10 July 2006). Regardless of what language one chooses, the writer must manipulate the language in order to express his/her thoughts, feelings, and emotions.  

The writers’ use of English over the vernacular languages of the Philippines (Tagalog, Ilocano, Cebuano, etc.) also demonstrates an awareness of both their intended audience as well as the politics of writing in a colonial language. Oscar Campomanes explains that “writing in English promised access of [Filipino] texts to a larger population” (26 June 2006). Because of the virtually universal use of English around the world, Filipino writers presumably were at an advantage compared to writers in non-English languages. However, judging by the lack of books by Filipino English authors in bookstores and classrooms, their success remains purely theoretical. The reluctance of American publishers to pick up writings by Filipino authors such as Eric Gamalinda or Luisa Igloria likely reflects the American desire to overlook its imperial history. Campomanes describes the phenomenon of the invisibility of American imperialism in American literature and history: “The invisibility of the Philippines became a necessary historiographical phenomenon because the annexation of the Philippines proved to be constitutionally and culturally problematic for American political and civil society around the turn of the century and thereafter (162). The effort of Filipino writers to introduce their literature to the United States remains a daunting task. Yet, they continue to carry their stories with them across the Pacific in hopes that the concealing veil of American imperialism will one day be lifted.

II. The American Dream vs. The American Reality

Because of the intimate relationship between the Philippines and the US, Filipinos hold a certain perception of America as a land of opportunity and freedom. Like the Chinese migrant workers who imagine America as “the Gold Mountain” and the Korean military brides who view the US as a land of independence, Filipino migrants saw a world full of possibility towards the east. This obsession with the US comes from the Filipino colonial mentality, a lasting reminder of the American empire. The Thomasites imported both a new language and a new culture into Filipino society. These teachers implanted both an American language and American ideals into the minds of thousands of Filipino students throughout the US occupation. Schools began to indoctrinate students with notions of democracy, freedom, and equality that could only be fully experienced on American shores. However, upon arriving to the United States, Filipinos quickly realize how much their dreams of opportunity, independence, and wealth differ from the harsh realities of racism, violence, and poverty.  

Throughout the twentieth century, Filipinos have continually faced adversity while trying to establish themselves in the United States. Accused of stealing valuable jobs, Filipinos were subject to racism from employers and fellow laborers during the 1930s. However, Filipinos consistently accepted menial, agricultural work because the wages, while low, were better than what was available back home. Oftentimes, whites reacted violently and brought both death and destruction to migrant workers and to those who supported them. Robin Cohen writes that one common feature of a diaspora is “a troubled relationship with host societies, suggesting a lack of acceptance at the least or the possibility that another calamity might befall the group” (Global Diasporas, Table 1.1). Filipino men were also forcibly separated from white women because white men were threatened by their skills as dancers. With a disproportionate ratio of 143 Filipino men to every Filipina woman, the mingling of both races was an inevitable consequence. Thus, anti-miscegenation laws made it illegal for white women to marry Filipino men and almost impossible for them to be seen with each other. As the Filipino population continued to grow, legislation was enacted to limit their immigration into the country. With the institution of the Tydings-McDuffie Act in 1934, a quota of fifty was set for the number of Filipinos entering the country at one time. This quota remained in place until the 1965 Immigration Acts. Despite the hardships of discrimination and service labor, Filipinos continue to migrate to the “land of opportunity” and constitute one of the largest immigrant populations in the United States.

Unwilling to accept his place among the lower classes of Filipino society, Pepe Samson escapes the rural life of his small village and pursues an urban life within the bustling city of Manila. When he arrives, he enrolls in a local university in an effort to gain social mobility. During one class, he argues with his professor over his comments about the American enemy:  “‘I cannot accept this form of anti-Americanism, Professor,’ I said. ‘The Americans are not a problem as such. Just look at the hordes at the American embassy everyday. Filipinos wanting to immigrate. I would rather work in an American firm than in a Filipino company. I know Americans give better pay, privileges, and I can aspire for a very high post with them (Jose 157). Pepe envisions America as a place where a lower-middle class man, like himself, can achieve a greater livelihood working in the United States. Although he never reaches American shores, his girlfriend Betsy embarks for New York City with her mother. Reluctant to separate from her love, she pleads with him to marry her and prevent her from leaving. But Pepe understands that spending the rest of her life with him in the Philippines rather than in the US would be disappointing: “You will be angry with me later. That is in the compass. You will regret what you have done. You don’t know how it is to be hungry. How to live in places like this. I want you to have a good life. I want no regrets” (Jose 226). Soon after Betsy’s departure, Pepe decides to travel across the Philippines, beginning with his old village of Cabugawan. Because he never leaves the Philippines, he keeps his idealization of America intact, having never experienced the brutal reality of life in the States.   

During his early childhood in Luzon (the main island of the Philippines), Carlos Bulosan imagines the United States as a place where a poor peasant boy like himself can grow up to become the president. This American dream results from the introduction of American systems of learning: “The American colonial government rightly considered education to be of the highest priority in its avowed mission of bringing the blessings of democracy and civilization to the islands” (Gonzalez 282). Yet, when Bulosan arrives, he becomes confused as his notion of America is affected by both the hate crimes of angry white men and the compassionate kindness of white women. Bulosan begins to question this American paradox after his friend José loses his leg because of white racism, but receives medical care from white doctors and nurses: “And yet in this hospital, among white people – Americans like those who had denied us – we had found refuge and tolerance. Why was America so kind and cruel?” (147). Later on, he finds himself victim to violent racism and asks, “What was the matter with this land? Just a moment ago I was being beaten by white men. But here was another white person, a woman, giving me food and a place to rest” (Bulosan 209-210). As Bulosan continues his life in America, he must continuously reconcile the evil of Americans with their sympathy for him.

Like Bulosan, Jessica Hagedorn’s characters receive notions of America as an idealized land. Because Hagedorn begins her story in the late 1950s, the introduction of American pop culture into the Philippines becomes a major influence in the lives of its citizens. As their views of the United States are shaped by American movies, Rio and Pucha Gonzaga dream of a world of Hollywood and celebrities. Hagedorn first sets her story in a nondescript movie theater which could be located in either the US or the Philippines. On screen, an American movie presents a pastoral, romanticized image of the American cottage to the young girls: “In this perfect picture-book American tableau, plaid hunting jackets, roaring cellophane fires, smoking chimneys, and stark winter forests of skeletal trees provide costume and setting for Hollywood’s version of a typical rural Christmas” (3). The influence of American pop culture becomes especially strong with the advent of the radio, television, and movies in the Philippines. Luis Francia observes that “America as a concept that is all-embracing has its seemingly distinctive features subsumed – “undermined” might be a more accurate term – by intricately linked, homogenized consumerism and pop culture” (Inventing the Earth, 193). When Rio and her mother move to New York and then to Boston, Rio finds the reality of America harsh and unlike anything she remembers from the movies.              Besides the characters they portray in their writings, Filipino and Filipino American authors themselves participate in a similar trans-Pacific journey when attempting to market their literature. N.V.M. Gonzalez recognizes this need for American approval and attributes it to what he refers to as “The Jones Law Syndrome”:

The Jones Law of 1916 was a colonial piece of legislation which deferred Philippine decolonization by enforcing a continuing period of American tutelage in liberal democracy and “representative government.” … But after 1916, “the solicitation of foreign, and generally American, approval “became both a “national habit” and a matter of “national character.” In the political realms, several lobbying teams were dispatched to Washington as generally circumscribed “independence missions” until the 1930s             (Bernadita Reyes-Churchill), while in the literary-cultural realm, the like of Jose Garcia Villa headed for the mythic American publishing capital of New York (xii-xiii).

Filipino writers often dream of becoming successful writers in the US and achieving international celebrity for their work. Even those writers who have already found success in the Filipino market would rather risk their careers in attempting to get published in the States. Once many of them realize that most of the American reading population is still not open to Filipino literature, they return to the Philippines in hopes of reclaiming their success. Filipino American authors undergo the same process of seeking American approval. Early on in her career, Jessica Hagedorn moves out to New York City because of the opportunities to be found there: “It was more exciting for me in terms of theater and film and the publishing industry. For me, New York City is the cultural capital of the Western Hemisphere. It’s not a city you move to for an easy life because it’s pretty harsh” (Lawsin 31-32). Facing the same difficulties that Filipino writers confronted when migrating to New York, many Filipino American writers gamble on achieving success in Manila. Filipino American writer, Noel Alumit “was shocked at the amount of [Filipino] American writers that filled the shelves of bookstores in The Philippines” (8 September 2006). Despite its presence within the Filipino market, Filipino American literature is still in its formative stage and has yet to establish itself within both the Philippines and the United States.

III. The Philippines: Purgatory or Paradise?       

In developing a new tradition of literature, Filipino writers used English as the vehicle to convey their Filipino subjects. Renowned Filipino writer, Marjorie Evasco, declared that “If you’re in a country, you write from its realities. This goes back to the question of whether or not Filipinoness exists” (29 June 2006). The use of the Philippines as the literary material for writers in the Philippines and the US reflects a desire to capture the essence of “Filipinoness.” Despite the American influence which pervades throughout Filipino society, writers attempt to make the literature an independent Filipino product rather than relying on the importation of American literary practices and traditions. These writers seek to break away from American (mis)perceptions and create a more complete picture of Filipino life, even if writing Filipino literature means portraying the nation as less than ideal: “Attention to the unsmiling aspects of Philippine life liberated our literature from maudlin emotionalizing and excessive sentimentalism” (Dimalanta 19). Depicting the brutal, harsh reality of a country that has been colonized multiple times, Filipino writers understand that “the unsmiling aspects of Philippine life” gave always and continue to shape the identity of the nation state and its people.        

Aware of his surroundings, F. Sionil Jose describes the corruption, greed, and violence which plague life in the Philippines. His characters within the Rosales saga confront tyrannical governments and overzealous militaries that attempt to exert control over the country. In his novel, Mass, Jose depicts the realities of destitution which continuously remain at work. Pepe Samson describes Recto, the area where his college is located, as an area full of despair but not hopelessness: “Here are the odors of the posterior, particularly when the sun is warm and there would be a busted sewer gushing yellowish froth, and flies as big as bottle caps on the garbage piles ... They will all be swept clean when the revolution comes and this Recto, this will the boulevard of great erudition; it will be the avenue of hope” (Jose 19). Pepe and his friends must also contend with the suppressive regime that seeks to eliminate any attempt at disrupting the social order. The police shoot and kill Pepe’s politically active friend, Toto, while at the same time, his fellow student leaders and protesters disappear without a trace. Constantly aware of the dangers which accompany political dissent, Pepe continues to support the cause despite the threats to his life. Pointing out the hypocrisy of life in the Philippines, Pepe describes the problem behind nationalism: “We are asked to support them, to believe them --- they who have drained us of our blood, who have tortured us and raped us. More than these we are supposed to love our bondage because it is the mark of our allegiance to nation and, therefore, to God” (Jose 241). But Pepe declares that nationalism means the people and therefore the people have every right to take back everything that was stolen from them. Able to see through the glamour of the metropolis, Pepe leaves behind Manila and returns to his village disheartened, but optimistic about his future.

The myth of returning to the Philippines appears in many works of Filipino American literature. E. San Juan Jr. makes a rather bold assertion in his book Reading the West/Writing the East: “Of all Asian American groups, the Filipino community is perhaps the only one obsessed with the impossible desire of returning to the homeland, whether in reality or fantasy … [But] the authentic homeland doesn’t exist except as a simulacrum of Hollywood, or a nascent dream of jouissance still to be won by a national-democratic struggle” (123). Upon entering the United States, many immigrants find that their romanticized notions of America are completely different from the reality in which they find themselves. They also never planned on staying in the US for very long: “Most Filipinos did not intend to stay permanently in the United States; they came in order to secure savings large enough to set themselves up in business at home, to get an American education, or just out of a spirit of adventure” (Burma 42). For this reason, the number of Filipinos leaving the US during the early twentieth century was almost half as large as the number entering the country (Burma 42). One common feature of a diaspora is “an idealization of the putative ancestral home and a collective commitment to its maintenance, restoration, safety, and prosperity, even to its creation” (Cohen, Table 1.1). Thus, the myth of return motivates migrants to overcome the obstacles that they face abroad and to work towards keeping the memories of home safe and intact. By maintaining these memories, diasporic communities like the Filipinos establish the ancestral home as the terminal point of their journeys. The return home represents the ultimate goal that these people strive to accomplish.

Carlos Bulosan came to the United States in hopes of receiving an education and enough money to support his family of poor peasant farmers. After his father loses his land and his home, Bulosan vows to earn enough wages to buy back his father’s property. Before he leaves for better economic opportunities in the US, he promises his sister, Francisca, that he would come back and teach her how to read. This vow shapes Bulosan’s life in America as he renews this promise every time he remembers his family: “I would go to school in America and return to the Philippines to teach both my sisters to read because they had no chance in the village. But now it had changed, for I was beginning to think that if I returned to my native land, I would spread a new enlightenment to my whole village---perhaps throughout the Philippines” (228). As he becomes more educated, Bulosan believes that he can bring salvation and enlightenment to his people and even his nation. Unfortunately, Bulosan never fulfills this dream because he dies in the United States and never has the chance to return to the Philippines. Yet, as a young man returning to his province of Binalonan from the major city of Baguio, Bulosan actually experienced the despair of returning to a home that is completely different from his recollection of it: “I was surprised to find our house in total darkness. When I saw that it was empty, I felt desolated. I stood at the gate for a long time trying to decide what to do” (72). This destruction of the mythical homeland leaves Bulosan powerless. His expectation for a warm welcome from his family is shattered by the painful realization that his home has changed, even if his memory of it has not.

After failing to find her place in America, Rio returns to the Philippines with high hopes but realizes that memories are often more comforting than reality. Feeling like she was forcefully ripped from her home in Manila, Rio remains discontent with life in the United States. She tries to convince herself that she is not homesick when she and her mother settle in New York, and then later, Boston. Finally, her feelings of non-belonging compel her to make the trip back to the Philippines. When she arrives, Rio decides to visit her old house despite her father’s advice:

When I finally come home to Manila to visit, my father warns me not to bother visiting out old house. “You’ll be disappointed. Memories are always better.” Smiling apologetically, he tells me reality will diminish the grandeur of my childhood image of home… My father is right. The house with its shuttered windows looks smaller than I remember, dingy. The once lush and sprawling garden is now a forlorn landscape of rocks, weeds, and wild ferns (Hagedorn 245)

Filled with melancholy and disappointment, Rio cannot believe that the only place where she finds solace and some sense of belonging has become a dilapidated shack infested with rats. This sudden realization triggers an intense emotional response in her: “I slide into the driver’s seat, fighting back tears. Suddenly, I grab her hand. She stares at me, puzzled. ‘Are you okay?’ It seems an eternity, but I pull myself together” (Hagedorn 246). However, Rio’s loss of her childhood memory has a much deeper impact on her emotional stability when she returns to America. Back in the United States, Rio seems to want nothing to do with her family as she throws all of the letters, telegrams and notes her family sends her from the Philippines into a shopping bag and moves as far away as possible from her mother. Her reclusion later develops into anxiety as Rio fears that she can never find a place to call home. As a result, Rio moves from Boston to Hawaii in an effort to be as physically close to the Philippines, without leaving America: “I move to another city, approximately five thousand miles away from where my mother lives and paints. We talk on the phone once a week. I am anxious and restless, at home only in airports. I travel whenever I can” (Hagedorn 247). Rio’s feeling at home in airports demonstrates her inability to belong to any one nation. Instead, she finds her sense of belonging in the transitional space between nations. Her restlessness corresponds with her inability to settle down; with no place to call home, Rio travels from place to place in an effort to reconstruct her notion of home. Oscar Campomanes observes this continual process of searching for home in most Filipino American works of literature: “Motifs of departure, nostalgia, incompletion, rootlessness, leavetaking, and dispossession recur with force in most writing produced by Filipinos in the United States and Filipino Americans, with the Philippines as always either the original or terminal reference point” (161). For Rio, the Philippines become both starting point and destination as she tries to form and re-form her own perception of home.

Many of the Filipino American writers who return to (or visit for the first time) the Philippines experience culture shock in a place they assumed would be “home.” The literal return to the homeland disorders the mythical remembrances of the Philippines in many ways. As a Filipino American writer who grew up in Manila, Bino Realuyo continued writing about the Philippines until he was invited to come back to the Philippines and realized that his notion of the country differed noticeably from the reality of the nation (Interview with Neil Garcia – 7 July 2006). Noel Alumit remarks that his choice to write about the Philippines stems from curiosity: “Personally, I write about the Philippines because I want to know what it’s about.  I’ve heard about it all my life, family gossip originated from there.  It’s a country associated with wars and coups.  There’s good drama in The Philippines” (8 September 2006). As Filipino American writers continue to look across the Pacific for a sense of belonging and acceptance, many realize that finding a niche in either the US or the Philippines can be difficult. The fact that Filipino American texts such as America Is In The Heart and Dogeaters are set mostly in the Philippines demonstrates a certain state of flux (between the two nations) for Filipino American writers:

It might be telling that Dogeaters by Jessica Hagedorn, probably the most famous work considered Filipino American literature after Carlos Bulosan’s America Is in the Heart, is set primarily in the Philippines.  Even the first part of Bulosan’s novel is set in the Philippines as well.  There is a definite sense of gesturing toward both the Philippines and the United States, as if the center of each text did not reside in either place but in an imagined third space, what I’ve called a “transnational space” elsewhere.  Isn’t it strange that what characterizes “Filipino Americanness” in these now-paradigmatic Filipino American texts is not a sense of territorial belonging in the United States the way it is in other Asian American texts? (Interview with Gladys Nubla – 20 August 2006)

The creation of this imagined third space can possibly serve as the meeting grounds between the Filipino English and Filipino American traditions. The recognition of common themes, influences, and desires within each literary tradition can leader to a more extensive, if not, broader, understanding of the Filipino and Filipino American subject.

Conclusion

The formation of two distinct Filipino literatures within the Philippines and the United States reflects the constant growth and maintenance of the Filipino diaspora. Although Philippine Literature in English and Filipino American literature developed separately from each other, they both participate in trans-Pacific exchanges and share moments of convergence (besides the use of the English language). Early writers such as Jose Garcia Villa, Bienvenido Santos, N.V.M. Gonzalez, and Carlos Bulosan can be considered significant figures in both traditions. Conceptions of both America and the US pervade the literatures of these earlier sojourners and of their contemporaries. Filipino English writers have imagined the United States as a land brimming with opportunity for those who work hard enough in contrast with the social realities of the Philippines, a place governed by graft, greed, and violence. By the same token, Filipino American writers imagine the Philippines as a warm, comforting homeland while they observe the US as a racist, neocolonial power that values them solely for their hard labor. While it is important for these traditions to be recognized as separate categories of literature, the prospect of putting these two literatures in dialogue with each other would be highly beneficial. Would Filipinos still be eager to pursue the American dream if they read about the hardships Filipinos faced (and continue to face) while trying to sculpt out a life for themselves? Would Filipino American writers still look towards the Philippines as a “lost paradise” when they understand the corruption which keeps the country from reaching its full potential? Perhaps, it is only through writing from the transnational space between both countries that it is possible for Filipino and Filipino writers to break free from centering themselves on one place in favor of another. To focus entirely on the American dream or the mystification of the Philippines results in a disregard for the reality of one’s surroundings. When texts fully engage both sides of the Pacific, it finally becomes possible for both literatures to intersect (and interact) with one another.

Works Cited

Abad, Gémino H. The Likhaan Anthology of Philippine Literature in English from 1900 to Present. Quezon City: University of the    
    Philippines Press, 1998.

Bulosan, Carlos. America Is In the Heart. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1943.

Burma, John. “The Background of the Current Situation of Filipino Americans.” Social Forces. 30.1 (1951): 42-48.

Campomanes, Oscar V. "Filipinos in the United States and Their Literature of Exile." Discrepant Histories: Translocal Essays on Filipino Cultures. Ed. Vincente Rafael. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992, 159-192.

 ---.“N.V.M. Gonzalez and the Archipelagic Poetics of Filipino Postcoloniality.” Work on the Mountain. Ed. N.V.M. Gonzalez.   
    Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press, 1995.

Dimalanta, Ophelia A. and Virginia M. Mata. Philippine Contemporary Literature in English: Tradition and Change (From the 20’s to
    the Present). Manila: University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2001.

Cohen, Robin. Global Diasporas: An Introduction. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1997.

Francia, Luis H. “Introduction: Mr. and Mrs. English Travel with a Rattan Suitcase.” Brown River, White Ocean: An Anthology of
    Twentieth-Century Philippine Literature in English. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1993.  

---. “Inventing the Earth: The Notion of ‘Home’ in Asian American Literature.” Across the Pacific: Asian Americans and   
    Globalization. Ed. Evelyn Hu-DeHart. Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1999, 191-218.

Gonzalez, Andrew. “The Philippines: Past, Present, and Future Dimensions of Higher Education.” Asian Universities: Historical
    Perspectives and Contemporary Challenges. Eds. Philip G. Altbach and Toru Umakoshi. Baltimore: John Hopkins, 2004, 279-       
    298.

Hagedorn, Jessica. Dogeaters. New York: Penguin Books, 1990.

Jose, F. Sionil. Mass. Manila: Solidaridad Publishing House, 1983.

Lawsin, Emily P. “Jessica Hagedorn: Interview.” Words Matter. Ed. King-Kok Cheung. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2000.

San Juan, Epifanio, Jr. Reading the West/Writing the East. New York: Peter Lang, 1992.

Interviews

Abad, Gémino H. Personal Interview (In-person). 10 July 2006.

Alumit, Noel. Personal Interview (Email). 8 September 2006.

Campomanes, Oscar. Personal Interview (In-person). 26 June 2006.

Evasco, Marjorie. Personal Interview (In-person). 29 June 2006.

Garcia, Neil. Personal Interview (In-person). 7 July 2006.

Nubla, Gladys. Person Interview (Email). 20 August 2006.