A Lion in the House

I don't like to write in books with ink. Books heavily underlined and annotated scandalize me. The blank pages and margins of books are not meant to be defaced like a temple. Yet I like to mark them myself with occasional notes. For that I use a pencil, which I like to think makes for a lesser violence, a temporary violation an eraser will set right. So I write on books very lightly. I do not stretch out the books and open them fully flat when I read. I open them at an angle so as not to break the spine of the book. I always read acutely, at an angle less than ninety degrees. If it is a new book I bought I would never settle down for more than the right angle. I dare not open books at an obtuse angle. That is an obtuse thing to do. It is depressing to look at books with heavily curved or broken spines. Or any book with physical flaws for that matter.

I was flipping the pages of A Lion in the House, a novel by Lina Espina-Moore about adultery. Published in 1980, it feels outdated now. Outdated not for being a period novel set in 1980 but for its heavy use of colloquial language of Manila of its time. It has its moments, like the scene of the wife rushing to get his husband from the apartment of his mistress, an apartment the husband was renting out. This section of the novel was recently included in Querida: An Anthology (2013). But overall the novel sounds false to me in 2016. The dialogues do not crackle. It relies too much on the slang, colloquialisms, and high society details of its period. Novels must be felt as if it is new. Its language must sound fresh for all time.

When I started the book I already flipped through its pages and saw the last page and I was vexed at an offending drawing, in ink. I never minded the musty smell and the browning, crispy pages of the old book. I never minded that the book was apparently read by someone else before it was sent to me. But that someone had the luxury of time to make doodles and lettering of a character's name. I was mad at the publisher (I ordered the book from the publisher, from their old stocks) for allowing this to happen and for sending me this vandalized book. I was mad at the vandal-reader for the indiscretion. However ambivalent I felt about the book, I did not like that it was tampered.

But I would not let this affect my reading. I continued reading and soldiered on to the last pages. The final, epistolary chapter was titled "Q.E.D." I finished the book. Then I discovered the "flaw" was not a flaw at all but part of the "text." But of course. This literary device was not new. I was amused.

Then everything fell into place. The philandering husband, Mr. Alberto de Leon, the "lion in the house", wrote in doodles. Of course. The stoic character whose thoughts were not always accessible in the book. A paper with nonsensical writing in it, from his "desk" illuminated something about his character. A thought balloon appeared, a thought bubble burst. The drawing expressed it all. His inflated ego, his narcissism, his vanity. Therein lay all his psychological complexity. Or his utter simplicity. Flawed as a person, as a lion, as a character. The book and its flaws. Quod erat demonstrandum.

Translation and its discontents: On Austregelina Espina-Moore's novelas cebuana, 2

One thing I appreciate in the translations of Austregelina Espina-Moore's three Cebuano novels was Hope Sabanpan-Yu's effort to add a translator's introduction or preface in each of them. Personally, I would like these introductions to appear as afterwords because most of the time they spoil too much of the story line, but the reader always had the option to read them for later.

Sabanpan-Yu discussed several translation issues in her preface to Where a Fire Tree Grows. The aspects she talked about included the tradeoff between literalness and fluency in translations and the dangers inherent in "naturalizing" or "domesticating" (vs. foreignizing) a text.

Since Cebuano is culturally and linguistically different from English, it makes sense to try fluent translation but without the alienating aspects of this particular type of translation. It also makes sense to translate literally especially when the goal is to emphasize the uniqueness of Cebuano. The language can be both creative and acceptable to English readers when translated literally. Because the translator "cannot possibly preserve all the features of the original" (Gutt 382), I allow myself to be guided by Jiri Levý:

In translation, there are situations which do not allow one to capture all values of the original. Then the translator has to decide which qualities of the original are the most important and which ones one could miss out. The problem of the reliability of translation consists partly in that the relative importance of the values in a piece of literature are recognized. (382)

Elements of the Cebuano language text such as syntax, phonology and diction, have to be brought into English, the target language text, otherwise it will no longer be translation but adaptation. I refer to syntax as the set of rules governing the manner in which words are combined to form sentences in a language. English is an S-V-O (subject-verb-object) language while Cebuano is a V-S-O language.

The translator then highlighted these issues by describing some of the strategies she used to deal with syntax, phonology, and diction while quoting sample passages from the novel. She presented (i) the original Cebuano text, (ii) its corresponding literal translation in English, and (iii) how she finally rendered her translation by analyzing and weighing the aspects of translation she wanted to preserve. However, the strange thing about this preface was that the passages she quoted in the preface differed from the actual translations contained in the text.

I could only presume that the preface was written before the translation was finalized and that the revisions made in the final translation were not used to update the quoted passages in the preface. If this assumption is correct, one unintentionally stumbled upon the process of editing or revising translations, with the versions in the preface taken as drafts and the version in the text as final. Here are some instances, with the original language first presented, followed by the "draft" (quoted in the preface) and the "final" versions (contained in the actual novel) of the text.

Mouna ka pagka propesiyonal kanako sa lima o unom katuig.

You'll become a professional five or six years earlier than I.

You'll be a professional five or six years earlier than I.

***

Si Jun ug si Lily namasilong sa sibay nga hulatanan sa bus duol sa escuelahan. Hapon kadto, sinugdanan sa Agosto. Nagbunok ang ulan ana sa usa ka panamilit tungod kay nanghinapos nang mga adlaw sa tingulan.

Jun and Lily took shelter at the bus stop near the school. It was an afternoon in early August. The rain poured down a farewell because the rainy days were ending.

Jun and Lily took shelter at the bus stop near the school. It was an afternoon in early August. The rain poured a farewell because the rainy days were ending.

***

Mainit, pilitpilit sa asin sa singot ang ilang kamot nga nagunitay.

Warm, their hands entwined, sticky with the saltiness of sweat.

Warm, sticky with the salt of sweat, their hands clasped.

***

Taudtaud, mahitungod gani silag tinukod ni Mr. Gonzales mohunong ug motanaw paglibotlibot. Human sa pipila nila ka nakitan, nangutana si Jun kon unsay ilang hunahuna.

Later, whenever they came across a construction of Mr. Gonzales, they would stop and look around. After they had seen a few, Jun asked what they thought.

Later, when they came across a building constructed by Mr. Gonzales, they would stop and look around. After they had seen a few, Jun asked what they thought.

***

Mao tingail nga ang mga tawo nga namasiyo sa Luneta niadtong hapon sa Mayo mohangad gayud, ngadto sa estatuwa ni Dr. Jose Rizal, ang hero sa Pilipinas – yutang tabonon.

Which is why the people who were strolling at the Luneta that afternoon in May had to look up, to the statue of Dr. Jose Rizal, the hero of the Philippines – land of the brown race.

Which is probably why the people strolling in the Luneta that May afternoon looked up, to the statue of Dr. Jose Rizal, hero of the Philippines – land of the brown race.

Whether or not the assumption that the final version is the one contained in the text was correct, I think that the small or not-so-small deviations from the quoted texts in the preface were an improvement.

Good and evil in Austregelina Espina-Moore's novelas cebuana

Ang Inahan ni Mila (Mila's Mother) [1969-1970] by Austregelina Espina-Moore, tr. Hope Sabanpan-Yu (National Commission for Culture and the Arts, 2008)

Diin May Punoan sa Arbol (Where a Fire Tree Grows) [1960] by Austregelina Espina-Moore, tr. Hope Sabanpan-Yu (USC Press, 2010)

House of Cards [1973] by Austregelina Espina-Moore, tr. Hope Sabanpan-Yu (National Commission for Culture and the Arts, 2013)

1

The three translations of Austregelina Espina-Moore to date, all undertaken by scholar and translator Hope Sabanpan-Yu, were but a small subset of her novels written in the Cebuano language. These so-called novelas cebuana were part of the Cebuano tradition of novel writing with distinct characteristics. Sabanpan-Yu described this genre as 'serialized fiction' in her preface to her translation of Where a Fire Tree Grows:

The novela cebuana, as the term indicates, is unique to Cebu. It is a novel published as a serial in local Cebuano magazines. Like the Western novel, the novela cebuana contains typical elements and the narrative usually progresses in a linear pattern. The novela cebuana does not deal with culturally dissident issues or with political matters. In the Cebuano context, the novela penetrates the traditional Cebuano cultural milieu by dealing with the universal themes of family, romantic love, life, morals, struggle, and the arts. Overall, it has the wide appeal of popular literature.

My decision to translate one of the [ten] novelas cebuana of the late author, Espina-Moore into English, is to counter the hegemonic dominance of American popular literature and build on existing Cebuano literature.

Sabanpan-Yu's effort in her three translations was indeed commendable for offering alternative reading materials to – let's face it, an unwinnable proposition – counter the American popular fiction hegemon. At the very least, her translations breathed life to this genre of Cebuano novel for the discovery of adventurous readers.

Based on the page count of the three texts, the novela cebuana was actually a novella, of only some fifty-odd pages in English translation. The three novels were presented in bilingual format, but not in facing pages: the whole novel in Cebuano appeared straight through first, followed by the English translation in the second half of the book. They were what the translator described them to be – fiction concerned with domestic family lives, relationships, and morality.

The exploration of morality was what probably makes the genre popular to the readership of Cebuano magazines (e.g., Saloma and Bisaya) during the 1960s and 1970s. In fact, serialization of novels in magazines (and comics, for the graphic novels format) was quite popular in the Philippines during the postwar period not only in Cebuano magazines but also in Tagalog weeklies and in other languages as well (e.g., the epic Hiligaynon novel Margosatubig also first appeared as a serial). Fiction writers were revered by the reading public in that golden age of novel reading when support for and readership of novels was so high. Given the popular following of novels by the masses during those times, it was such a huge step back to local popular literature (and to culture, in general) when readers in the vernacular languages now became so enamored with other forms of entertainment and reading material.

It was quite understandable why Sabanpan-Yu wanted to challenge the currently reigning mindless, Hollywood hegemon when the reading public then was more receptive of the effort of local novelists. The translator wanted to resurrect interest in the Cebuano literary production which had become marginalized and now consigned to library archives.

The reasons for the present state and (relatively poor) reception of Filipino literary culture by its own citizens were quite complex as they span the socioeconomic, political, and artistic domains. Investigation into this would require a dissertation about the martial law and the postcolonial conditions. But then perhaps Espina-Moore's novels already hinted at this rapid shift toward cultural backwardness with her intimations of the rise of materialism and capitalism in the Philippine economic structure.

In any case, Espina-Moore's brand of serial novellas had so much to offer the general reading public in terms of the family conflicts and marriage woes, domineering wives, spurned lovers, philandering husbands, spendthrift mothers, divorce, children caught between their separating parents, artistic sons and daughters, traditional and modern roles of women, class tension, moral degradation. Her careful delineation of the conflicts in short, snappy chapters – perhaps the natural division of the weekly installments of a serial – nurtured enough suspense to keep the interest of common readers. In these novellas, the cast of characters was enriched by a dominant 'villain' who served as counterpoint to the moral center or conscience of the story. In Mila's Mother, the titular Teresa was a fierce character shaped by unfortunate circumstances. Her daughter Mila – a modern woman with passive feminist ideals – provided a counterpoint to her mother.

"What I want to say is that the natural predisposition of woman is marriage. After marriage, there's no more freedom. Husband, child, home – home, child, husband. The woman who strays will certainly get censured." The image of her mother, Teresa, arose in her mind; –. She could hear her say: "That's the Filipino way of thinking – the traditional Filipino."

"Continue. Is there any other?"

"Another way of thinking is this: There is no difference between woman and man when it comes to individual liberty or freedom. Real freedom arises from an act that won't hurt or be detrimental to oneself and others. Freedom that knows no bounds isn't freedom at all but abuse, and in English, it's what's called taking license."

"Is that from theory or experience?"

"Everything. Theory, experience, and common sense."

At the start of the novel, Milagros Garcia (Mila) was speaking to her compatriot Roberto Eleazar (Bobby) in New York. Mila was taking a vacation. They just met. Eventually the two fell in love and decided to marry. Teresa's palpable presence for her daughter was evident in the way she voiced out to Bobby what she suspected her mother would say about the Filipino perception of women ("She could hear [her mother] say").

When the two young lovers returned to the Philippines, it turned out that Bobby's father and Mila's mother were previously an "item" in their younger years. The two had a rather colorful history. Mila was then a poor young woman and it was impossible for her (given her unremarkable "ancestry") to marry Juan "Johnny" Eleazar, who was the scion of a very rich family. After all, in Johnny's own words (in speaking to his wife), Teresa was a bad match:

Teresa did many things then that showed how rotten her character was, her hunger and greed. I knew this not only from suggestions but from what I observed. She'd be jealous of the enjoyment and happiness of others. I noticed this. Teresa was like a lovely but poisonous flower when approached. The only good thing was that I wasn't blind or deaf. Maybe the psychiatrist would say Teresa's attitude originated from her situation because she grew up deprived – deprived not only of wealth but also of love. Just think of it. A pretty child growing up in poverty, watching other mestizas like her who wouldn't even glance at her. Just think of a child growing up, watching her classmates or playmates with toys, with the right clothes, the right car, but she had none of these things and could only have a taste of it all when given attention or given by friends. Just think of a growing child, suddenly slapped and reminded whenever she made a small mistake that she was a replica of her mother ["a dancer"]. I learned this from others and from Teresa herself. It's a pity. But what could I do? Could I be sure that when we married her nature would change? What's called nature is very difficult to change if ever it can be changed. Marriage isn't for a few days or months. Marriage is forever. So even if I really pitied her situation and knew the cause of her bad character, I also knew that I wasn't born to this world to become a martyr for a woman. A wife like Teresa? God forbid!"

At this point we hadn't yet met Teresa – described elsewhere by her American sister-in-law as "the very lovely woman whose industry and vigor's like a troop of Hitler's soldiers" – in person, and yet her infamy, at least in the eyes of her former boyfriend, already preceded her. It was already firmly established by those who knew her that she was a "bad" person. Espina-Moore already dispensed character nuance and complexity here. Mila's mother was no Mother Teresa. The novelist was playing to the popular notions of women and marriages and was making radical shifts in other directions. The novelist was constructing the play of plot and the subsequent comedy of manners, clash of traditions and customs (between the Filipino tradition of the old Cebuano family of the Eleazars and the American tradition of the Grahams), and catfights, when the two families, the Garcia Grahams and the Eleazars, met to plan a wedding.

Teresa Garcia rose from poverty by marrying Kenneth Graham, an enterprising American businessman. Their marriage was held together by the birth of Mila. Even Teresa herself acknowledged and embraced her shrewdness and wiles to "bag" Ken Graham as a husband and improve her financial status in life.

Poverty is a crime. No one respects you; no one looks at you; no one falls in love with you when you're poor. They say that I cheat, I take advantage, I'm cunning, grab what isn't mine, I'm envious. But if not for jealousy, there'd be no ambition. If there was no ambition where would I be now? I'd still be a salesgirl in Cebu, married to a scumbag, give birth to scum who'd marry scum. Now everything's possible because of my ambition – of my efforts. My own efforts. Even this husband beside me now [in church during Mila's wedding] who's a successful businessman. He's mine because of my efforts. I didn't wait for him to fall to others. When I saw him, I said, this one's mine. And now he's mine. Our situation is like this because aside from my efforts, I also pushed my husband to strive. I drove away friends who wouldn't be any good. What's the use of friends who can't add to wealth? Isn't there truth to the saying that friends are treasures as well? For me, a friend's a treasure if he brings wealth. So now, with Mila's marriage to Johnny's son, it evens out everything. The community's sin against me is paid up. But only on that score.

After Mila's marriage to Bobby, Kenneth pondered the idea of separating from Teresa since he was no longer bound to protect his daughter Mila from her mother as she already had a husband to mind and a new family to build.

Mila's negative definition of freedom ("Real freedom arises from an act that won't hurt or be detrimental to oneself and others") became the anchor of the narrative as the satirical novel took a turn for tragicomedy once Kenneth made up his mind on whether or not to divorce Teresa.

2

In addition to the depiction of a dominant 'villainous' character, what is unique about Espina-Moore's novelas was the presence of a moral center, a sort of counterbalance to the figure of the evil. It must be said that while the concepts of good and evil are not often enclosed in quotes, neither of them was strictly relativistic in Espina-Moore's fictional universe. Good is good; evil is evil. And yet the sympathetic consideration of what made the evil personas come to be was explored and weighed. Again, in the tradition of popular Philippine novels, the didactic tradition of having a "moral" in the story – contrary to the usual modernist, Western novels where good and evil are confused in an ethical conundrum – were closely adhered to, even actively pursued, in these three novellas.

Mila was the moral center in the novel centering on her mother's flawed character. In Where a Fire Tree Grows it was Jaime Gonzales Jr (Jun), the intelligent son who observed at a distance the rediscovered love affair (let us say: adultery) between his favorite teacher Ms Estrella Arcilla and his father. The idealist Jun romanticized about liberal arts (sometimes waxing about poetry) and its role in society.

"Isn't the aim of Liberal Arts that of making the 'humanities' comprehensible or the various studies refer to the society that revolve around people? Because we mentioned Fr. Roger, I tell you that I am in agreement with the Jesuit thought that if the Humanities is learnt and understood, what will follow is the search for the right profession or means of livelihood. It doesn't matter if one is a doctor, carpenter, engineer, street cleaner, lawyer, a businessman, gardener, or cook – whatever – most of all, one should be a good person, a whole creature whose heart is in the right place and whose thoughts follow a good direction."

In one of the poetry readings he frequently attend, Jun invited his father Jaime Sr and there Jaime met Estrella once again after many years of their separation. Their previous affair ended on a somewhat bitter note. In Estrella's house a fire tree stood, symbolizing the fires and passion of a lost love reignited. The poetry of the telling was notably cheesy and self-conscious. Oh, yes, the poetry in the background was defeaning.

Estrella left the kitchen first, went through the living room towards the door. But the living room was dark and the night was quiet. Their steps echoed together with the cries of their hearts. Their steps stopped. A few fireflies floated from the flowers of the fire tree with the breeze carrying the low cries: "Estrella, Estrella ... Jaime, oh my love, my love Jaime ..."

Jaime's wife, Emmy, was physically invalid due to an accident. Lately, Emmy was noticing Jaime's unusual behavior of coming in very late from work in the office. Her reading material was not so subtle, too, and so was her mounting anxiety and disorientation.

Luz [Emmy's home nurse] gently laid a hand on her patient's shoulder and said, "Ma'am, weigh your thoughts. Sadness and worrying too much isn't good for you. Finish your orange juice and we'll go to the roof garden. I'll read you a few pages from Anna Karenina. On our last reading, Anna had asked her husband for a divorce. What do you think is next?"

Emmy closed her eyes tightly, leaned against her chair, and continued, "Tolstoy's novel – Anna Karenina – is about a beautiful woman whose experiences were hair-raising. Whatever entertains, [also] provides a lesson ... and other books, all books, amusement, gardening, roof gardens, television, radio, a good nurse who's always there, a good and intelligent son, a beautiful house, all the food that you want, all sorts of clothes you can think of. It's true, there's so much convenience and not a care. Oh, Luz!"

Jun's mother was losing her grip on the world, now that her suspicion of Jaime's infidelity grew every day. Her critical opinion of Tolstoy's novel might as well be the guiding framework of the novelist's popular fare. Whatever entertains also provides a lesson.

Elsewhere, Mikhail Lermontov's lines were recited and discussed at length. There's a Russian strain of emotions flowing in this novel. In a climactic confrontation between Jaime and Estrella, poetry was once more sign checked. "For her [Estrella], the most painful thing was that she gave someone else pain. If she were a poet, this would be the most beautiful poem of her life."

She don't say. And by the end, the novela closed with Lermontov's lines about feeling and passion.

3

In House of Cards, we have as 'conscience' of the novel, Honorio de la Paz (Nor) and Marifel Baraza. Nor was a student tenant in a dormitory ran by Nang Cristy, while Marifel Baraza was the young daughter of a rich business-owning family. Nor listened to the story told by Nang Cristy about her work as housekeeper in the mansion of the largely decadent Baraza family. Like the image of a fire tree in the yard, the 'house of cards' was a transparent symbol of the irreversible, domino effect of the Baraza family's moral disintegration.

There was Don Cesar Baraza and his wife Doña Mercedes throwing away money as if there's no tomorrow. They changed housemaids constantly as not one (save for Nang Cristy who had the sense and stamina to survive working for the notorious husband and wife and their cruel children, excepting the gentle and kind Marifel) could tolerate and adjust to the masters' unorthodox attitudes. The way Doña Mercedes spent the family fortune shopping in Europe on Christmas, preferring to be away on a holiday with a "new company" – an intimate, or an illicit lover, it was implied – than to spend her time with the family. Don Cesar, for his part, was keeping a mistress for years.

When the Baraza business became practically bankrupt overnight due to the poor decisions made by Don Cesar, the house of cards started to fall apart. Nang Cristy, who survived the hellish Baraza household as a temporary relief when the previous head of housekeeping resigned at short notice, had her own dose of lesson to impart to the reader.

It is said that life is happier if we do what we're capable of, if our intentions are good, and if we exercise with industry our talents and skills that God has blessed us with. So I drew on my femininity here in my employer's [Baraza's] home. I was not only glad they were pleased with my work but I was also happy that when they needed me, I was there. It is also to my credit that they wanted me to stay permanently in their home but I liked my old job better. So I told Mrs. Baraza I was returning to the factory and I, myself, would look for a housekeeper [to replace her] for them.

Nang Cristy shared her colorful story in the house of the rich to Nor, and our student dormer had acquired practical knowledge about the life. The housekeeper might be lowly in her station in life, but her "love and desire to understand one's fellow human beings" allowed her to get an insight into effectively dealing with difficult rich people who were blind drunk with wealth and power.

4

Readers are indebted to Sabanpan-Yu's informed translation of Espina-Moore's fictional works. The translator is also author of a book-length study on the writer entitled Women's Common Destiny: Maternal Representations in the Serialized Cebuano Fiction of Hilda Montaire and Austregelina Espina-Moore.

I cannot evaluate the faithfulness of the English translations to the Cebuano language. I can only assume that like the evolution of the Tagalog language, the quality and register of Espina-Moore's Cebuano in the 1960s and 70s must be quite different to the usage of the language today. I had to wonder why the translator would render a Cebuano sentence Husto na ang parte ko sa pagka polis as "My role of policing was palling." I was not sure if it is the alliteration or word play or simply the dated Cebuano of the 70s.

I plan to read the three other novels of the Cebuano novelist originally published in English, written a decade apart from each other between 1970 and 1992. Her three English novels and two short story collections (Cuentos and Choice) are signed under the diminutive version of her first name. From Austregelina to Lina Espina-Moore, the writer opted to produce her English novels and stories with longer page counts and in alliterative titles. I'm intrigued to see how her English novels continue or diverge from these thematically and technically unified samples of her novelas cebuana.


The three translated titles of Espina-Moore are included in the reading list of Filipino women novelists in translation. They are available from the Cebuano Studies Center.

 

Women in Translation Month: Novels from the Philippines

Women in Translation (WIT) Month, celebrated every August, is an opportunity to take stock of one's reading habits and focus on the women. I once made a survey of novels translated from Philippine languages. The list has since grown (see Annex below). This post enumerates the Filipina novelists who were already translated. So far, their number could only be counted by the fingers of two hands.

First, some general statistics:

• To date, a total of 23 novels were translated from Spanish or a Philippine language into English. 
• Majority of the English translations (and retranslations)—86% (20 out of 23 novels)—appeared only in the last 10 years (2006-2016).
• All English translations save for the two José Rizal novels (91%) were published and distributed in the Philippines. Hence, they can only be accessed by a small readership. The novels of Rizal are available in Penguin Classics edition. A very limited number (3 or 4) are available in a digital format (Kindle or Kobo).
• Looking at the publication year in original language, 10 of the novels were published in original language between 1885 to 1947, eight of them appeared after the war (1960-1975), and only five (21%) were by contemporary novelists (1991-2013). 
• Only four languages were represented: nine were translated from Tagalog/Filipino; six from Spanish; and four apiece from Cebuano and Hiligaynon.

Gender-related statistics:

• Of the 23 translations into English, nine (39%) are by women novelists.
• The 23 translated novels were written by 15 individuals, only four (26%) of whom were women.
• About 60% of the "primary and latest" translators were women.  
• Of the nine novels by women, seven (77%) were translated by women. 
• The novels by women were translated mainly from Tagalog (4), Cebuano (3), and Hiligaynon (2). None were translated from Spanish.

9 TRANSLATED NOVELS BY WOMEN WRITERS FROM THE PHILIPPINES

Magdalena G. Jalandoni (1891-1978)

1. Juanita Cruz, tr. Ofelia Ledesma Jalandoni (University of the Philippines Press, 2006). 

2. The Lady in the Market, tr. Edward D. Defensor (U.P. College of Iloilo, 1976). 

Jalandoni was a very prolific female writer in Hiligaynon language. She also wrote in other languages and was considered a proponent of feminism. I recently bought a copy of Juanita Cruz, translated by her niece. The Lady in the Market was out of print and only available in libraries.

Austregelina Espina-Moore (1919-2000)

3. Ang Inahan ni Mila (Mila's Mother), tr. Hope Sabanpan-Yu (National Commission for Culture and the Arts, 2008).

4. Diin May Punoan sa Arbol (Where a Fire Tree Grows), tr. Hope Sabanpan-Yu (USC Press, 2010). 

 

5. House of Cards, tr. Hope Sabanpan-Yu (National Commission for Culture and the Arts, 2013).

Austregelina Espina-Moore (aka Lina Espina-Moore) wrote several novels in Cebuano and three novels in English: House of the Lotus; A Lion in the House; The Honey, the Locusts. I have already read the three translations above and will probably post about them in this blog. They are all available from the Cebuano Studies Center.

Rosario de Guzman Lingat (1924-1997)

6. The Death of Summer, tr. Soledad S. Reyes (De La Salle University Publishing House, 2013)

7. What Now, Ricky?, tr. Soledad S. Reyes (Anvil Publishing, 2013) 

8. The Cloak of God, tr. Soledad S. Reyes. (De La Salle University Publishing House, 2013)

Lingat's novelistic voice was one of the most profound during the Marcos dictatorship. What Now, Ricky? [review] recently won for its translator Soledad S. Reyes the triennial award A.L. Becker Southeast Asian Literature in Translation Prize (yes, there's such an award). Reyes also wrote a biography of the writer, Rosario de Guzman Lingat, 1924–1997: The Burden of Self and History. An article by Reyes about Lingat's fiction can be read here (pdf).

Of the three translated novels, the best is probably The Cloak of God [review], which I also read in its original Tagalog.

Luna Sicat Cleto (1967-    )   

9. Typewriter Altar, tr. Marne L. Kilates (University of the Philippines Press, 2016)

Luna Sicat Cleto is the only contemporary Filipina novelist translated to date. The original work, Makinilyang Altar, appeared back in 2002. She also produced a second novel, Mga Prodigal (The Prodigals). Translator Marne L. Kilates is a poet and a seasoned translator of poems, notably the multiple poetry collections of Rio Alma.

I started reading it though I'm not sure if I can finish it within the month, let alone post something about it. Based on the first chapter alone, I believe this is worth translating and reading.


Women in Translation Month is initiated by Biblibio.



ANNEX. PHILIPPINE NOVELS IN ENGLISH TRANSLATION (AS OF 21 AUGUST 2016). 
NOTE: THE UPDATED LIST WILL BE UPLOADED HERE (EXCEL FILE).

No.	Title	Author	Gender	Translator	Gender of Latest Primary Translator	Original Language	Pub. Year of Original	Pub. Year of Latest English Translation
1	The Golden Dagger	Antonio G. Sempio	Male	Soledad S. Reyes	Female	Tagalog	1933	2016
2	La Oveja de Nathán (Nathan's Sheep)	Antonio M. Abad	Male	Lourdes Castrillo Brillantes	Female	Spanish	1928	2013
3	Ang Inahan ni Mila (Mila's Mother)	Austregelina Espina-Moore	Female	Hope Sabanpan-Yu	Female	Cebuano	1969-1970	2008
4	Diin May Punoan sa Arbol (Where a Fire Tree Grows)	Austregelina Espina-Moore	Female	Hope Sabanpan-Yu	Female	Cebuano	1960	2010
5	House of Cards	Austregelina Espina-Moore	Female	Hope Sabanpan-Yu	Female	Cebuano	1973	2013
6	Fort: A Novel	Buenaventura S. Medina	Male	Buenaventura S. Medina	Male	Tagalog	1991	2006
7	Eight Muses of the Fall	Edgar Calabia Samar	Male	Mikael de Lara Co & Sasha Martinez	Male	Tagalog (Filipino)	2008	2013
8	El Folk-Lore Filipino [vol. 1 of 2]	Isabelo de los Reyes	Male	Salud C. Dizon & Maria Elinora Peralta-Imson	Female	Spanish	1889 [vol. 1]; 1890 [vol. 2]	1994
9	Ang Diablo sa Filipinas ayon sa nasasabi sa mga casulatan luma sa Kastila	Isabelo de los Reyes	Male	Benedict Anderson, Carlos Sardiña Galache, & Ramon Guillermo	Male	Spanish	1886	2014
10	Noli Me Tangere	José Rizal	Male	various	Male	Spanish	1887	2006
11	El Filibusterismo	José Rizal	Male	various	Male	Spanish	1891	2011
12	Orosa-Nakpil, Malate	Louie Mar A. Gangcuangco	Male	Carla Mae Sioson & Louie Mar Gangcuangco	Female	Tagalog (Filipino)	2006	2009
13	Typewriter Altar	Luna Sicat Cleto	Female	Marne L. Kilates	Male	Tagalog (Filipino)	2002	2016
14	The Gold in Makiling	Macario Pineda	Male	Soledad S. Reyes	Female	Tagalog	1947	2012
15	The Lady in the Market	Magdalena G. Jalandoni	Female	Edward D. Defensor	Male	Hiligaynon	1935	1976
16	Juanita Cruz	Magdalena Gonzaga Jalandoni	Female	Ofelia Ledesma Jalandoni	Female	Hiligaynon	1966	2006
17	Nínay	Pedro Alejandro Paterno	Male	E. F. du Fresne	Male	Spanish	1885	1907
18	Margosatubig: The Story of Salagunting	Ramon L. Muzones	Male	Edward D. Defensor [1979]; Ma. Cecilia Locsin-Nava [2012]	Female	Hiligaynon	1946	2012
19	Shri-Bishaya	Ramon Muzones	Male	Maria Cecilia Locsin-Nava	Female	Hiligaynon	1969	2016
20	What Now, Ricky?	Rosario de Guzman Lingat	Female	Soledad S. Reyes	Female	Tagalog	1971	2013
21	The Cloak of God	Rosario de Guzman Lingat	Female	Soledad S. Reyes	Female	Tagalog	1975	2013
22	The Death of Summer	Rosario de Guzman Lingat	Female	Soledad S. Reyes	Female	Tagalog	1969	2013
23	Driftwood on Dry Land	T. S. Sungkit Jr.	Male	T. S. Sungkit Jr.	Male	Cebuano	unpub.	2013