THE HALO-HALO REVIEW'S MANGOZINE--ISSUE 18

In addition to aggregating reviews from the internet, THE HALO-HALO REVIEW presents The Mangozine which features new reviews and serves as the online publisher for reviews and other engagements (e.g. book introductions) published in print but not yet available within the internet.  Other features, including author interviews and reader testimonials, also will be presented. The following presents a Table of Contents for Issue 18 -- CLICK on links to go to the reviews.

Submission deadline for the 19th issue has been set at April 15, 2025 (though we will take reviews sooner than the deadline if that is more convenient for the reviewers).

ISSUE 18

(November  2024)

Editor's Note:  Welcome to the 18th issue of THE HALO-HALO REVIEW where we provide engagements with Filipino-Pilipinz literature and art and authors/artists through reviews and engagements, interviews and other prose. We hope readers, writers, artists, and publishers will continue to participate and share information about numerous Filipino authors and the wide variety of their writings. 

I.  NEW REVIEWS AND ENGAGEMENTS

Mungan and Lola by Justine Villanueva with illustrations by Ray Nazarene Sunga (Sawaga River Press, 2024)

Reviewed by Maileen Hamto

THE INVENTOR: A Poet's Transcolonial Autobiography by Eileen R. Tabios (Marsh Hawk Press, 2023)

Reviewed by T.C. Marshall

Moving with Moonrise: Haibuns by Ma. Milagros T. Dumdum (Bughaw / Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2023)

Reviewed by Marjorie Evasco

GIGANTVM PENISIVISM: A Tale of Demonic Possession by Jose Elvin Bueno (Clash Books, 2024)

Engaged by Eileen Tabios

Shawl from Kashmir and Other Stories by Manuel A. Viray (New Day, Quezon City, 1992)

Reviewed by Lynn Grow

Where the Warehouse Things Are by Tony Robles (Redhawk Publications, 2024)

Engaged by Eileen Tabios

The Forgetters by Greg Sarris (Heyday Books, 2024)

Engaged by Leny M. Strobel

Ang Armadong Paraluman Sa Panahon Ng Kilabot / The Armed Paramour In A Time of Terror  by E. San Juan, Jr. (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2023)

Engaged by Eileen Tabios

Go HERE for Flash Reviews of It Is Time To Come Home: New and Collected Poems by Marjorie Evasco (Milflores & DLSU Publishing House, 2023); Songs from Manunggul by Charlie Samuya Veric (Bughaw imprint of ADMU Press, 2024); Ang Liwanag Bago Dumilim by Allan Popa (Aklat Ulagad, 2022); Planet Nine by Joel M. Toledo (UST Publishing House, 2023); and Alinsunurang Awit by Ayer Arguelles (UST Publishing House, 2020)

Reviewed by Aloysiusi Polintan

II.  LIT IN 5!

Luisa A. Igloria and Eileen R. Tabios: On Caulbearer and The Balikbayan Artist

Tony Robles and Vince Gotera: On Where the Warehouse Things Are and Dragons & Rayguns

III. AUTHOR INTERVIEWS, POST-BOOK

Elizabeth Ann Besa-Quirino: Every Ounce of Courage

Mignon Bravo Dutt: Room 216

Bren Bataclan: Fe, A Traumatized Son's Graphic Memoir

Beverly Parayno: Wildflowers

IV. READERS SHOW SOME LOVE TO FILIPINO AUTHORS
Go HERE to read:

Oscar V. Campomanes on Grace Talusan

Eileen Tabios on Romalyn Ante

Leny Strobel on Justine Villanueva

Maya Escudero on Beverly Parayno

V.  FEATURES

"Remembering Nick Carbo (1964-2024): Beloved Poet and Mentor to Many Writers" by Eileen Tabios

"Savoring the Flavors of Home: Reflections on Manila’s Vibrant Dining Scene" by Nicole A. Ponseca

"From East to West: The Enduring Power of Book Clubs" by Rachielle Ragasa Sheffler

"Poetry-in-Progress: 'The Ex-Wife Becomes Galatea'" by Eileen Tabios

VI. THE FILIPINO SHELFIE

Joel H. Vega

VII. FROM OFFLINE TO ONLINE/REPRINTS

From Books: Introductions, Prefaces, Forewords, Afterwords, Author's Notes & Other Prose

Introduction by Jack Hirschman to The Armed Paramour in a Time of Terror by E. San Juan, Jr. (UST Publishing House, 2024)

Foreword by Tony Robles to Follower of the Seasons: A Onethology in Symphony by Oscar Peñaranda (Eastwind Books of Berkeley, 2023)

Introduction by Aileen Cassinetto to Follower of the Seasons: A Onethology in Symphony by Oscar Peñaranda (Eastwind Books of Berkeley, 2023)

Foreword by E. San Juan, Jr. to REFLECTIONS ON REVOLUTION AND PROSPECTS by Jose Maria Sison (International Network for Philippine Studies, Utrecht, Netherlands, 2020)

MUNGAN AND LOLA by JUSTINE VILLANUEVA and RAY NAZARENE SUNGA

 MAILEEN HAMTO Reviews

Mungan and Lola by Justine Villanueva with art by Ray Nazarene Sunga

(Sawaga River Press, 2024)

BOOK LINK

Mungan, a girl named after the the first babaylan of Bukidnon, loves to tell stories to her lola. One day, she notices her grandmother seeming sad, a departure from her gleeful self. Mungan is determined to find out what is wrong, so Mama and Mungan cook lola’s favorite food. The tasty linagpang (grilled beef soup) or hilot (healing massage) did nothing to lift her lola’s spirits. Only after Mungan asked and listened deeply to lola’s grief and longing did she understand the depth of the elder’s sorrow and what could bring her back from minghoy (low spirits). 

Author Justine Villanueva delivers a touching and heartwarming story that centers on the gifts of intergenerational connections, ancestral Pilipino knowledge, and traditional Indigenous practices from her native Bukidnon, Philippines. Mungan and Lola is set in an unnamed place in the diaspora, where the girl and lola share stories amid “the oak trees and poppies.” The story reveals that Mungan’s family remains closely tied to knowledge and practices from the homeland. Although primarily relayed in English, the story incorporates words in two Philippine languages – Bukidnon and Bisaya – reflecting the hybrid way multilingual people express themselves. English translations help readers follow along, enhancing their vocabulary in the process. 

The artwork stands apart to showcase the richness of Filipino culture. In depicting family interactions, artist Ray Nazarene Sunga integrates scenes and motifs familiar to Filipinos – from house decor to fabric patterns. The butterfly figures prominently in the artwork, as it is an old Filipino belief that butterflies manifest the spirits of the departed.  

To support grownups in understanding the rich context of the book, Justine introduces Bukidnon as a place and people. I also appreciated the short essays on Filipino American history and honoring ancestors, which helped to further explain the Pilipino Indgenous worldview. Be sure to check out the simple recipe for linagpang na manok!  

In full transparency, I have long admired Justine’s work in bringing Filipino Indigenous traditions and beliefs to the page for readers of all ages. I have the honor of serving with Justine as part of the Center for Babaylan Studies’ core group and as an adviser for Sawaga River Press. Justine’s vision for imparting ancestral wisdom from our forebears to the next diasporic generation is genuinely commendable, an offering of deep care and thoughtful intention.

Mungan and Lola explores the themes of grief, minding the emotional inner lives of our elders, and healing. In creating the book, Justine’s collaborative style as a creator shone through in her call for friends and followers of Sawaga River Press to submit the names of their lolas and where they are from. Two full-page spreads of names of grandmothers bookmark Mungan’s story. I took part in this exercise because, like many in the diaspora, I witnessed how my lolas endured many trials throughout their lives. Yet, they still managed to show us love in their own ways. I am grateful for the chance to recognize my lolas through the book, my beloveds who I never really got to know fully and deeply. I will never fully understand how they coped with the limitations of their circumstances and how they made it through the most harrowing times. 

Maraming salamat, Justine Villanueva, and Sawaga River Press, for the thoughtful and heartfelt ode to all our beloved elders. 

*****

About Maileen Hamto: Originally from Sampaloc and Tondo, Manila, I reside in the ancestral lands and cultural centers of the Arapahoe, Ute, and Cheyenne (Colorado). Through Lead Equity, CulturaLink, and Diversity Way-Maker, I work as a management consultant, focusing on supporting the development of equitable and inclusive organizations that center on the well-being and flourishing of all people. As a researcher and educator, I am deeply invested in promoting racial equity in organizational policies and practices. 

Mungan and Lola includes three of my grandmothers: Lola Honor Eringco Hamto (Bulacan and Tondo, Manila); “Mommy” Placida Teodoro Dumelod (Sampaloc, Manila); and Maxima Barrientos (Pampanga and Sampaloc, Manila), my lola sa tuhod, my great-grandmother on Mommy Cidang’s side. Belatedly, Mom reminds me that my lola sa tuhod from the Dumelod clan is named Lorenza Villanueva, who hailed from Nueva Vizcaya.

THE INVENTOR: A POET'S TRANSCOLONIAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY by EILEEN R. TABIOS

 T.C. MARSHALL Reviews

 

The Inventor: A Poet’s Transcolonial Autobiography by Eileen R. Tabios 

(Marsh Hawk Press, 2023)

 

BOOK LINK

 

THE INVENTOR: A Poet's Transcolonial Autobiography is not just about one person who invented things. It is about several inventions in poetics brought to us by Eileen R. Tabios. For all that Mary Anderson and her windshield wiper did to improve life on the road, Tabios’ story is larger and involves nearly all of us as it works to transcend and repair the damage done by colonial attitudes and practices. In this book, you hear about poetic inventions, forms and methods and approaches that make for new possibilities in poetry and beyond, about poetry as a purposeful practice and a way of improving life.

 

Poetry itself is named for invention: “poietes” means “maker” in ancient Greek. Tabios has made a ton of poems and put out over fifty collections of them. She also writes in other genres. Without this book, it might be easy to miss the fact that she has invented new forms and approaches in each genre, and many in poetry. These are not just for her own practice but for all of us who find out about them. 

 

This book tells the story of Tabios’ expanding awareness as a poet and an inventor in poetry. It is a narrative, but it also includes Theory. And it presents exciting new ways to actually make poems. It is, as it must be, political in several ways, just as its subtitle suggests. “A Poet’s Transcolonial Autobiography” insists that this story is the tale of recognition of and resistance to the colonizing forces in our lives as they range from armed occupation to economic exploitation and onward into our very uses of language and literary form. This autobiography unfolds the many ways in which Tabios has disciplined her writing into shapes and forms that can bridge or even defeat colonialisms.

 

The back cover blurb about the author lists three major inventions of form and approach from the book. It says “she invented the hay(na)ku poetry form, The MDR Poetry Generator …, and Flooid poetry that’s rooted in a good deed.” THE INVENTOR presents the stories of all three along with examples from herself and others she has worked with as a teacher or guide. The examples are not Eliotic in grandeur, not by far, but they are alive in the hands of poets and learners and rise from their lived lives. Each method has as its origins the desire and necessity to overthrow conventions and ignorances that play a colonizing role through writing. How do writers de-colonize themselves? Tabios shows us some possibilities.

 

The “hay(na)ku” was developed partly on the basis of Jack Kerouac’s American Haiku and Allen Ginsberg’s American Sentences. The book tells you the origin of the inventive name of this invention, incorporating a common phrase from Philippine culture, and tells what happened when others got hold of the form: over twenty variations on it in the first year of poets publishing hay(na)ku. It also tells how this has become a “Philippine diasporic form” and how it “became a metaphor for disrupting the colonizer’s desire to control others” (18). Haiku with their rules and American applications of them become a basis for making something completely different. The new form’s applicability to any experience, and its disruption of haiku stiffness with everyday language and concerns, even in the term “hay(na)ku,” becomes its liberating force.

 

The MDR Poetry Generator gets its name from the initials of Murder, Death, & Resurrection along with the idea of generating poems from random or loosely guided choices of elements for their construction. Tabios tells of how in 2013 she tried to “forget” her earlier poetry and create fresh possibilities by rewriting each line of her earlier poetry and then collecting lines written counter to the originals in one big listing. She then went about finding ways to assemble new poems “murdering” and reviving the lines in the old ones. The examples show how this actually worked to “deepen [her] interrogation of English for facilitating 20^th-centurty U.S. colonialism in the Philippines. Her assertion is that this helped “develop a consciously closer link to the Filipino indigenous value of ‘shared self’ by making the writer be a reader and user of others’ lines.” It’s a big claim, but “MDR’s way of creating poems shifts emphasis away from author to reader in determining the poem’s effectiveness.” Again, the form becomes a metaphoric bearer of this desired shift by destabilizing the standard speaker pose in poetry (42). It helps the poetry world to “move away from us & them” thinking (48). It creates a “double-take perspective (54).

 

The third big form dealt with in this book is a whole approach Tabios calls “Flooid” poetry. As she introduces it, she calls it “reportage poetry dependent on goodness” (77). It produces “a short poem—no more than five lines—that only can be written after the poet first undertook a ‘good deed’ ” (78). This has a touch of sentimentality about it, but it makes the work “activist” in a fresh way. The poem is not just thoughts and feelings, not just a report or a plea, but based in actually doing something. Examples in the book include making a meal for others, saving someone from a fire, and running a program for victims of wartime PTSD, along with many more good deeds. The poems reflect these actions, but in a way they also include them; the good deed is part of the poem itself in an appreciable way. Tabios herself says, “With the Flooid, I wanted to create an activist poetry form based on hope” (93). She writes about how that hope even reaches as far as Ukraine. THE INVENTOR is about poetry reaching beyond itself as poets reach beyond themselves. One of the effects of The Flooid comes from how it is “open and inclusive to everybody, and not just those already involved in poetry” (80). It expands not only poetry and how it may be written but the pool of who may write it.

 

The book also catalogues and explains this inventor’s efforts at “promoting Asian American or Filipino / Filipino-American poetries and creating spaces for presenting poetry” (56). They have been many. “What my projects share in common is how I didn’t rely on existing literary infrastructure.” This is another anti-colonial gesture. Her ambitious projects, her “trying for a lot,” and her embrace of “why not be an author larger than oneself” also push back at colonizing and colonized language uses (68-69). She includes a chapter on how her roots fed her work, and how they led to that Flooid form and its basis in a real-world act. THE INVENTOR is as broad as its author’s life and efforts, and it makes them more available to us not just as consumer/readers but as writers.

 

The delights of this book come from its inventiveness in itself as a new kind of autobiography with a fresh approach to “person.” It also raises the essential issue of how poetry gets applied in our lives. The purposes here are somewhat “anti-personal,” but they are not without person and people at every level. Tabios’ approach loosens poetry from the grip of the personal and reaches into social and political dimensions through this loosening.

 

One of the very most delightful things about Tabios’ writings is the way they incorporate the lyrical personal “I” and concrete experience with “avant” considerations of form and diction. She clearly feels no need to resolve tensions between the two angles. She, instead, uses them both together to “triangulate” positions for creativity and thinking. On pages 11 and 17, obviously near the beginning of the book, she repeats a striking formula: “my poetry is not in my words.” What she means by that and what that means for us readers and fellow writers is illuminated on page 22 where she tells the origin of the term hay(na)ku. She writes: “I don’t feel poetry should sing so much as it should think. In poetry (unlike perhaps elsewhere), thinking is not the opposite of music and, indeed, concepts can sing.” In Tabios’ work, they do—as they blend the lyrical with the conceptual.

 

All poetry implies a poetics. Eileen Tabios’ has made this fact a focus without stopping there. The poetics of her poetry has social implications. It is actively anti-colonial, pointedly de-colonizing, and perpetually inventive. It is a good deed, a mitzvah, an action of connection as it makes such mitzvot more possible for more of us. Read THE INVENTOR and try some of its approaches; you’ll get it, and you’ll want to become a “Transcolonial” inventor too. As Tabios says, “through poetry, I wish for no one or nothing to be alien to me” (43); you can get there yourself by employing forms and approaches that let anything arise. As she says at the end, “Dear Reader, my poetry has never been my words, but yours” (99). This book is a seed packet; so read it, and go grow some poetry yourself.

 

 

*****

 

T.C. Marshall is a California poet with half a century of publications in five nations and a career teaching College English and poetry and literature in two of them. He helped produce and edit The End of The World Project (Moria Books, 2019), and is about to launch the Compass Project for poetry in resistance to the end of our democracies.

MOVING WITH MOONRISE: HAIBUNS by MA. MILAGROS T. DUMDUM

 MARJORIE EVASCO Reviews

 

Moving with Moonrise: Haibuns by Ma. Milagros T. Dumdum

(Bughaw / Ateneo de Manila University Press, 2023)

 

BOOK LINK

 

Transience in the Haibun Collection of Ma. Milagros T. Dumdum

 

            In 2018, Ma. Milagros T. Dumdum’s first poetry collection, Falling on Quiet Water (Bathalad)—comprised of a sequence of 123 haiku—began her poetic journey (ironically prodded by a lower-back injury) which brings her and us, her readers, to her 2023 collection of 56 haibun titled Moving with Moonrise (AUP). Within this span of five years, she and her lifetime poet-partner Simeon Dumdum, Jr., also published a collection of renga titled The Sigh of a Hundred Leaves (San Anselmo Press, 2020).  

            

            What we noted as an enthusiastic appropriation of the Japanese poetic form five years ago is illuminated in the haibun collection as her masterful handling of this Japanese poetic form yoking brief travel notes with haiku inspired by space-time specifics of the journey. Simeon Dumdum, Jr. says in his introduction to the book that Ma. Milagros T. Dumdum’s travel diary “hews to the spirit of Basho’s Narrow Road to the Interior…the interior, however, as not a physical but a spiritual heartland, the heartland of memory, of the contemplation of beauty and time, of solitude and longing.” (xviii)

 

            While some readers may ask, “Why use Japanese poetic forms?” my considered reply is “Why not?” It’s not as strange as it may seem. Its brevity is akin to the brevity and wit of the tigmo in Visayan poetry that seeks to capture the ineffable in everything. I also suspect that the strict form of the haiku is a most difficult discipline that lures poets worth their salt to try doing their sleight of hand skills with. Among the literary forms, it is poetry that upholds the power of luminous crystalized language, where less is definitely more. 

 

            As an avid reader of Ma. Milagros T. Dumdum’s poetry, I read her haiku in Falling on Quiet Water as her way of generously sharing “the best way of releasing the catch in memory’s lock, and as if by magic, see things come alive again in our imagination.” In Moving with Moonrise, she once again graciously shares with her readers an intimate diary of her personal sojourn through life, marked by well-lighted images and scenes held tenderly and surely by the haiku form. Thus, I read this haibun collection as creative nonfiction poetry, given that her interior landscapes have actual references to experienced or lived-through terrains of her rich and accomplished life. 

 

            Place and memory dance together on the pages of this collection which begins with the poetics of dancing with, the plural personae practicing the aesthetics of balance in the foxtrot. The dominant sounds of the haiku— sibilants and long ō’s — embody the smooth flowing movements of the pair across the dance floor while the big band is playing, say, “A Fine Romance” of Louis Armstrong, or Benny Goodman’s “Taking a Chance on Love.” 

 

                                                We dance the foxtrot:

                                                Slow, slow, quick, quick, let it go—

                                                The sea’s ebb and flow

 

And the last line’s metaphoric figure of the ebb and flow of the sea does not only refer to the pair’s dance movements, but also transforms the dance floor itself, thus the importance of the equipoise achieved by the dance partners. 

 

            In haibun #16, Ma. Milagros T. Dumdum meditates on the interior landscape of her art practice: 

 

If haiku comes, as sometimes it does, it is a gift! Otherwise, I am, by choice, pro-active, I sharpen my awareness of triggers right before e or lurking somewhere waiting for my attention— everything is potential material for a haiku aching to be born. 

 

And the haiku that accompanies this travel note is more than an illustration of the practice of honing her awareness; it is a demonstration of the practice or act of shaping the material of one’s art:

 

                                                With garden scissors

                                                Into a parabola

                                                He shapes the bushes

 

            Now, of course, the metaphoric figure of the parabola has rich implications on her praxis of the haibun. I would hazard a wild notion that the parabola is an umbral force organic to her deft tangential approach to remembered experience. 

 

            Haibun #19 embodies best this way of looking that refreshes the eye and astonishes the heart. Marking her home province Leyte, her childhood days spent in Ormoc City, she recalls school vacations, the exhilarating freedom of “mountain treks…hide and seek games, sleeping on mats spread out on bamboo floors, evenings lighted by kerosine lamps, drawing water from a deep well.” The vivifying water she draws up from this living reservoir of time transforms the re-membered experience into an incandescent moment of existential awareness— akin to what zen masters call satori: 

 

                                                Looking down the well—

                                                Water, dark and bottomless,

                                                I can’t see my face. 

 

*****

 

Majorie Evasco: Seawrite 2010 (Philippines) and NCCA Ani ng Dangal awardee, her books have won the National Book Awards for poetry, oral history, biography, and art. She received the UMPIL Gawad Pambansang Alagad Balagtas in 2004, Patnubay ng Sining at Kalinangan (City of Manila) in 2005, Outstanding Silliman University alumna for creative writing in 2008, and the 2011 Carlos P. Garcia award for literature from Bohol, her home-island. She is a University Fellow and Professor Emeritus (Literature) of De La Salle University. She has published several books, the latest of which is her omnibus book of poems, It Is Time To Come Home: New & Collected Poems (co-published by DLSU PH & Milflores Publishing, Inc., 2023).

GIGANTVM PENISIVM by JOSE ELVIN BUENO

EILEEN TABIOS Engages 

Gigantvm Penisisvm: A Tale of Demonic Possession by Jose Elvin Bueno

(Clash Books, 2024)

BOOK LINK

I don’t know—I’m kind of fearful this book is not going to get the attention it deserves.* Gigantvm Penisivm by Jose Elvin Bueno is the zeitgeist. Moreover, it's a critique of Philippine socio-economic-political affairs. Its depth, when the primary narrative relates to what's shallow about current culture,  makes it brilliant. For Bueno has written the Social Media Novel Of Our Times with an admirable overlay of unfashionable politics. Yes, for deserved emphasis, I boldfaced that reference: Social Media Novel Of Our Times.

Before I address its story, I do want to highlight that this novel manifests Bueno’s strength as a writer. I consider him one of the most effective purveyors today of high-energy writing. His smarts, wit, diction, and I suspect a sense of humor definitely fortify his vigorous writing style. 

The novel has a deceptively simple set-up: four young and beautiful children from well-off families are partying. I cite “deceptively simple” because the setting—to attentive readers—is really a critique of the socio-economic development of the Philippines that’s based on an elite hoarding the majority of the country’s resources/wealth. For characters, there are Rafa, a corporate professional/loyal wingman; Basti, a financial wizard/unrivaled scenester; Vicente, a video gamer/early adopter; Pia, a fashion model/revered influencer; and Mitzi, a free spirit/porn star. Before the party in a condo in Manila ends, some force has taken over one of them who eventually kills the others. But, Reader, you probably won’t care about the deaths because the four are tools in the manner of the insult as well as just tools as literary devices to make the novel unfold. You won’t care because these characters are not likely to elicit reader empathy.

That’s okay because the novel, as well, is not about them. The novel is about how matters become relevant—even, how matters exist—simply from being shared on social media platforms. One of the subversive elements in Bueno’s approach is the suggested nuance that perhaps even murder’s immorality can be sacrificed for the value of being shareable and Like-able. 

 I noticed that this book received a one-star review on Amazon. Out of curiosity, I looked up that one-star reviewer’s comments. I don’t agree with that reviewer’s conclusion, but it did make me recall that in the middle of the book it can get difficult differentiating one character from another due to the insertion of the “demon”’s words. To this, I suggest to the reader to push through because it gets better so that the last third of the novel will reward your perseverance. And besides, as I said above, the novel is not really about the characters. This is mostly a novel of ideas.

Another subversive element—and one that I truly enjoyed—is how the past existence of the Philippine Martial Law dictator Ferdinand Emmanuel Edralin Marcos, Sr.—with all of his four names—is erased simply because no one among the “millions” canvassed on one of the character’s social media platforms recognized the name. Woot! (I hope  Bueno, who earlier critiqued Philippine politics through his earlier novels—Sindicato & Co. (2021) and Subversivo, Inc. (2014)—had a rollicking good time writing that part of the novel! We writers get such small rewards sometimes, but a reward is a reward.)

Last but not least, perhaps I feel empathy for this novel because of what’s stated in its epilogue. I won’t share that here as it’s a punchline that should be saved for the reader—suffice it to say that it would help explain why I’m a, I mean, how one can become a misanthrope.

For its literary verve and well-considered philosophical observations, Gigantvm Penisivm is Highly Recommended.

 

*****

 

Eileen Tabios has released books of poetry, fiction, essays, art and experimental prose from publishers around the world. Recent releases include the novel The Balikbayan Artist; an art monograph Drawing Six Directions; a poetry collection Because I Love You, I Become War; an autobiography, The Inventor; and a flash fiction collection collaboration with harry k stammer, Getting To One. Other books include a first novel DoveLion: A Fairy Tale for Our Times (2021) which was translated by Danton Remoto into Filipino as KalapatingLeon for a 2024 release from UST Publishing (University of Santo Tomas). More information is at https://eileenrtabios.com