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A review by librarypusa
Soledad's Sister by José Y. Dalisay Jr.
5.0
I wish I knew about this book sooner. This literary writing style and a contained snapshot of Filipino society being the story is exactly the sort of book that I've gravitated towards.
When you live in a country as fucked up economically and politically as the Philippines is, the best you can hope for is an understated, unremarkable life. SPO2 Walter Zamora is satisfied that excitement for him is by-gone days, the titular Soledad's lived duty was to blend into the background. But as this book shows, the psyche of the unremarkable has its reasons. And the psyche of the unremarkable can be a moving thing to read when presented by an insightful, inquisitive, skillful writer such as Dalisay.
Wanting to know the 4W's, 1H of how Soledad died is a reasonable instinct. Indeed, I wanted it too. Psychologically, the desire for closure is natural.
It could be this: Soledad was killed because she was a Filipino in a different country. Cheap labor, employed exactly because it can be a target of abuse without legal consequence. The machinations of worker-export economy is not simply ambivalent to the plight of the exploited OFW. It was designed to facilitate this violence. and poor Soledad was just another sad, anonymous tally to year-end OWWA statistics.
It could be this: Soledad died because she mistook her guilt for duty. Perhaps accompanying an 18-year-old to an affair-sponsored trip wasn't a moment of clouded judgement. Perhaps the guilt she nursed quietly for many years—the same guilt that made her forego her basic education and other similar worldly desires, the same guilt that made her cut her arms
What I enjoyed about this book is that it can go both ways. The literal, political consequences of a nation's economic weaknesses and unsustainable band-aid solutions catalyzes human reactions with symbolic meaning. The depth of the material, composed of Dalisay's deft intertwining of social commentary and individual, personal virtues and strife, thoroughly engaged me because the story isn't pinned down by one rhetorical function or the other.
Jose Dalisay invokes Jose Rizal in his Foreword, but I honestly think Dalisay builds off of Rizal's tradition of character writing. He mixes just enough specific detail to let the character come to life as its own. Beyond persona proxy and stand-in, and into the territory of this is someone like me, but not me. The character writing for SP02 Walter Zamora showcases it the most. Walter was not beer-belly, pulsatingly red evil that distills the evil of the Philippine police into one man. Instead, he was a mud-brown shade of neglectfully complacent. The drip-feeding of Walter's backstory delivered pangs of strong distaste just barely overpowered my mild pity in reading about his self-constructed purgatory.
Going back to her, I think my favorite bits of writing were sections about Soledad herself. There's types of people and professions that have had a lot of writings be about them (writers love writing about other writers, for example). Dalisay forever marked Soledad's Sister in my mind because writing about Soledad was to write about a person every book I've ever read has overlooked. We Filipinos know people like her: quiet, religious, dutiful, silently demoted by their own family to katulong. There could be one in your family, there could be one in the house across the street. We know them when we see them, but we never talk about them much. Because what is there to talk about when the person behaves so passively? Perhaps it is difficult because stories are said to be "good" if they are active. In his writing of Soledad, Dalisay defies this superficial presumption of narrative action by showing that a seemingly inert appearance is anchored by a strong force of will. It creates a picture that gives substance to my own understanding of withdrawn, resilient women. And with it, an appreciation.
The sort of book I wish I was old enough when it was in its heyday and able to discuss thoroughly with others. I guess in this point in time, I'll just add it to the top of my recommended books list.
When you live in a country as fucked up economically and politically as the Philippines is, the best you can hope for is an understated, unremarkable life. SPO2 Walter Zamora is satisfied that excitement for him is by-gone days, the titular Soledad's lived duty was to blend into the background. But as this book shows, the psyche of the unremarkable has its reasons. And the psyche of the unremarkable can be a moving thing to read when presented by an insightful, inquisitive, skillful writer such as Dalisay.
Wanting to know the 4W's, 1H of how Soledad died is a reasonable instinct. Indeed, I wanted it too. Psychologically, the desire for closure is natural.
It could be this: Soledad was killed because she was a Filipino in a different country. Cheap labor, employed exactly because it can be a target of abuse without legal consequence. The machinations of worker-export economy is not simply ambivalent to the plight of the exploited OFW. It was designed to facilitate this violence. and poor Soledad was just another sad, anonymous tally to year-end OWWA statistics.
It could be this: Soledad died because she mistook her guilt for duty. Perhaps accompanying an 18-year-old to an affair-sponsored trip wasn't a moment of clouded judgement. Perhaps the guilt she nursed quietly for many years—the same guilt that made her forego her basic education and other similar worldly desires, the same guilt that made her cut her arms
Spoiler
, —saw it as a final, decisive termination. The 18-year-old reminded her of her sister, the sister she conceded everything to. And perhaps the guilt pursued this final concession, a deathwish excursion, as the penultimate act of duty.She knew that she would miss him, but duty, she thought, was also a kind of love, perhaps a superior one, even; it has always been about duty about doing the right thing by and for others, even if they didn't know it, and no matter what it cost.
— Page 131, Chapter Ten
What I enjoyed about this book is that it can go both ways. The literal, political consequences of a nation's economic weaknesses and unsustainable band-aid solutions catalyzes human reactions with symbolic meaning. The depth of the material, composed of Dalisay's deft intertwining of social commentary and individual, personal virtues and strife, thoroughly engaged me because the story isn't pinned down by one rhetorical function or the other.
Jose Dalisay invokes Jose Rizal in his Foreword, but I honestly think Dalisay builds off of Rizal's tradition of character writing. He mixes just enough specific detail to let the character come to life as its own. Beyond persona proxy and stand-in, and into the territory of this is someone like me, but not me. The character writing for SP02 Walter Zamora showcases it the most. Walter was not beer-belly, pulsatingly red evil that distills the evil of the Philippine police into one man. Instead, he was a mud-brown shade of neglectfully complacent. The drip-feeding of Walter's backstory delivered pangs of strong distaste just barely overpowered my mild pity in reading about his self-constructed purgatory.
Going back to her, I think my favorite bits of writing were sections about Soledad herself. There's types of people and professions that have had a lot of writings be about them (writers love writing about other writers, for example). Dalisay forever marked Soledad's Sister in my mind because writing about Soledad was to write about a person every book I've ever read has overlooked. We Filipinos know people like her: quiet, religious, dutiful, silently demoted by their own family to katulong. There could be one in your family, there could be one in the house across the street. We know them when we see them, but we never talk about them much. Because what is there to talk about when the person behaves so passively? Perhaps it is difficult because stories are said to be "good" if they are active. In his writing of Soledad, Dalisay defies this superficial presumption of narrative action by showing that a seemingly inert appearance is anchored by a strong force of will. It creates a picture that gives substance to my own understanding of withdrawn, resilient women. And with it, an appreciation.
The sort of book I wish I was old enough when it was in its heyday and able to discuss thoroughly with others. I guess in this point in time, I'll just add it to the top of my recommended books list.