Skip to main content

20 Books on the Marcos Dictatorship

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” - George Santayana 

But sadly, these books are not easily accessible nor available to most Filipinos today. 

What are easily available to them are TikTok and Facebook history revisionism content. 

Plus, our education system has faltered in promoting reading literacy and comprehension that most people today are easily swayed by fake narratives flooding the most accessible medium -- social media.


Pika Yonzon reads a book about the Marcos Dictatorship




Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Before the Coffee Gets Cold (Toshikazu Kawaguchi)

  Reading Toshikazu Kawaguchi’s Before the Coffee Gets Cold reminded me of those early days of discovering Haruki Murakami when Japanese fiction first revealed its different style for building atmosphere rather than relying on surprising plot-twists. Like Murakami, Kawaguchi crafts a world where the characters exists alongside the mundane, where emotional truth matters more than logic, and where the real journey is found on each character's realization. Where Murakami leans toward surrealism, existential drift, and metaphysical loneliness, Kawaguchi threads the simpler ground. He creates a world that is smaller, almost domestic – in the case for this book. The café replaces the dreamscape; regret replaces alienation. Both writers, however, share a focus for mood, memory, and the unspoken weight of human relationships. Set in a small Tokyo café rumored to offer a chance to travel through time, Before the Coffee Gets Cold explores what happens when people are briefly allowed to re...

Dance Dance Dance - Haruki Murakami

Haruki Murakami’s 1988 novel Dance Dance Dance, was my very first foray into his peculiar world (on the recommendation of my former and late officemate named Fae), turned out to be a strange, fascinating initiation.

A Guardian and a Thief - Megha Majumdar

  I have always gravitated toward Asian literature, drawn to its focus to interior lives and its ability to connect the personal with the political. That pull becomes even stronger when the setting is India, a place I’ve visited four times in the past and where history, inequality, and survival often appears more powerful on the page. Megha Majumdar’s A Guardian and a Thief arrives squarely within that scope, offering a speculative yet unsettlingly portrait of a near-future Kolkata reshaped by climate catastrophe and moral compromise.