The Joy of Reading Required Filipiniana Reads

The Starting Line: What Are Required Filipiniana Reads?

"Required Filipiniana Reads" refer to literature by Filipino authors, often in English, Filipino, or regional languages, that I have chosen to be basic grounding texts for students of Philippine Literature. For me, works like Noli Me Tangere by José Rizal, Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag by Edgardo M. Reyes, Dekada '70 by Lualhati Bautista, or Mga Ibong Mandaragit by Amado V. Hernandez are not just books—they are cultural milestones.

I sense a particular groan from college students when I hand them the literature syllabus and they see the list of my required Filipiniana reads. To most students, these titles may seem like relics from the past—dense, intimidating, and irrelevant to modern life. But in fact, these works are not just dusty artifacts but vibrant doorways into understanding our Filipino-ness, our communities, and our shared history.

I encourage my students to revisit the selection of works in Philippine literature and remind them, “Enjoy reading!” The richness and reward these texts offer lie within the pages—but only if they are truly read, not merely assigned.

Why Bother Reading Philippine Literature

I was first required to read Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo back in high school and again in my General Education (GE) classes. At the time, thick novels didn’t appeal to me, so I began with the comics editions—my gateway to Rizal’s masterpieces. Captivated by the graphic versions, I eventually read a Tagalog translation and two English versions in later years.

If I were to summarize either novel now, I wouldn’t attempt to recount every chapter. Instead, I would speak of what has stayed with me—Sisa’s madness, Ibarra’s idealism, Maria Clara’s gentleness, Kapitan Tiago’s contradictions, and a cast of others who continue to haunt our national story. Once I learned to enjoy reading the novels, the characters became more than literary figures; they began to mirror people I encountered in real life. Their struggles and ideals deepened my sense of what it means to be Filipino—and what it means to belong to this complex, wounded, and beautiful nation.

If you give these required Filipiniana reads a real chance, I promise you’ll discover more than just academic value—you’ll gain insights, empathy, and a deeper connection to your heritage.

1. Literature as Identity Mirror

Dekada '70 by Lualhati Bautista is not merely about a family navigating Martial Law. It’s a powerful portrait of how a middle-class Filipino mother—once quietly domestic—awakens to political consciousness as the country slips into authoritarian rule. Through her journey, we witness how ordinary Filipinos resisted, adapted, and endured. She could be your grandmother, or your great aunt. Literature lets you see parts of yourself in characters who lived in vastly different eras. It’s like seeing your reflection in the eyes of your ancestors.

2. Context is Everything

Understanding Mga Ibong Mandaragit by Amado V. Hernandez without historical context is like eating adobo without vinegar—it lacks bite and meaning. Written in the aftermath of World War II and during a time of growing neocolonial influence in the Philippines, the novel speaks to the disillusionment of a nation promised freedom but left shackled by inequality and foreign control. Hernandez, a labor leader and political prisoner himself, used fiction as a weapon to expose the systemic injustices faced by ordinary Filipinos. While other literary works have explored themes of resistance, class struggle, and post-colonial identity, what makes Mga Ibong Mandaragit stand out is its unapologetic political stance and its call for the intellectual class to serve the masses—not just critique from afar. Today’s generation needs this book more than ever—to understand how power can be manipulated, how liberation is often incomplete, and how critical thinking is essential in times of disinformation and distraction. These narratives are ours, shaped by voices that insist on remembering, resisting, and rising.

3. Empathy Through Imagination

Edgardo M. Reyes’s Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag (Claws of Light) captures the raw despair of Julio, a young probinsyano who comes to Manila in search of his beloved (Ligaya), only to be swallowed by the city's harsh realities. Set in the 1970s, the novel exposes the brutal conditions faced by construction workers, the exploitation of the poor, and the disorientation of provincial migrants caught in the machinery of an indifferent metropolis. The raw despair of a man lost in Manila’s unforgiving urban sprawl reminds us that poverty is not just a statistic—it is a lived human condition marked by broken dreams and daily survival. Both in the novel and in Lino Brocka’s searing film adaptation, Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag invites us not only to witness suffering, but to understand its roots and systems. It compels today’s readers to look beyond the skyline and into the lives of those who built it, often invisibly and without justice.

How to Enjoy Reading the Required Filipiniana Reads

Some students admit—sometimes sheepishly—that they’d rather watch a film or listen to a podcast than sit down with a book. And I understand. The tension often comes from that feeling of being forced to read something you didn’t choose yourself. It’s hard to enjoy a book when it feels like a chore.

So how can you turn reading from a requirement into a rich, maybe even enjoyable experience?

Here are a few suggestions that might help:

1. Be curious—don’t just tick a box with “Done.”

Instead of approaching a reading with, “I have to get this over with,” try asking, “What might this book reveal that I don’t yet know?” Let your questions guide you. When I first picked up Noli Me Tangere (in comic book form, no less), I found myself intrigued by the title. What does ”Noli Me Tangere” actually mean? Where did this title come from? Why did Rizal choose it?

I’ve since learned that Noli Me Tangere isn’t just about Spanish friars—it’s about power, love, courage, and the cost of silence. But the title still stirs questions in me, and that curiosity keeps pulling me back to the text. I revisit it now and then, poring over passages, finding more than I originally looked for. That’s the beauty of reading with a curious mind: it becomes less of a task, and more of an unfolding discovery.

2. Read with a Friend—or Better, a Group

Reading doesn’t have to be a solitary task. In my classes, I often group students together and ask them to discuss the required Filipiniana reads among themselves. A book conversation among friends or even just members of a book club—can transform the reading experience. These conversations bring the text to life, adding layers of meaning that one reader alone might miss. Insights bounce off each other, and suddenly the novel feels urgent, even personal.

For example, when reading Lualhati Bautista’s Dekada ’70, I suggest beginning with this question: “If you lived during Martial Law, would you have joined the protests? Would you prioritize your family’s safety—especially your mother’s feelings—or your political convictions?” The answers might be hypothetical, and your real-life choices might differ if faced with actual risk. But in sharing these thoughts, reading becomes more than analysis—it becomes human. You begin to see how literature speaks to your own values, fears, and ideals.

3. You May Watch Film Adaptations—Just Don’t Stop There

It’s perfectly okay to watch film adaptations or listen to audiobooks—these can make the text more accessible, especially if you’re just getting started. For example, Lualhati Bautista’s Bata, Bata… Pa’no Ka Ginawa? takes on new resonance when you see Vilma Santos embody the role of Lea on screen. The film offers a vivid interpretation, but it’s important to remember: it’s a complement, not a substitute.

Some students find themselves drawn more deeply into the story after watching a film version. Others prefer reading first, then watching the adaptation to critique what was left out or changed. Either way, whichever path gets you curious about the text—go with that. Reading remains the gateway to deeper thought. A film is a secondary text that, by its nature, knows it is an adaptation—not the original. Let it enrich your understanding, but not replace it.

4. Write or Journal Your Reflections

Reading is input; writing is output. This simple rhythm lies at the heart of studying literature. Don’t skip the act of journaling your thoughts—even if they seem random or trivial at first. Scribble down your questions, reactions, confusions, or moments that made you pause. Let the text lead you to more discoveries. Only by writing will you begin to truly remember—not just the plot, but the experience of reading.

And why bother remembering, when you can always go back to the book? Because your reflections turn reading into a conversation between you and the author. You might be surprised by how attached you become to certain characters—or how furious you feel about a particular injustice. That emotional response is gold. Writing helps you trace that gold and, over time, reveals how literature is shaping your thinking, your empathy, and maybe even your voice.

5. Discover Something Unusual in the Required Filipiniana Reads

Writers are artists—they rarely stay content with what they already know. They experiment with styles, push boundaries, and evolve. Their books aren’t static; as you read, you evolve too. Take Miguel Syjuco’s novel Ilustrado, for example. At first, it can seem like a difficult read. But once my students recognize how Syjuco uses a pastiche style—a blend of genres, voices, and timelines—to layer meaning, they become completely captivated. Reading becomes more than following a story; it becomes an exciting journey into the author’s creative process. In a way, you start reading like a writer—exploring, questioning, and appreciating the craft. This approach makes reading not just educational, but truly fun and enriching.

(After reading Gina Apostol’s The Revolution According to Raymundo Mata, I found myself seeking out more books that aren’t linear. I savored the author’s playful way of performing the text and enjoyed the challenge of piecing together the puzzle—it was liberating!)

Beyond the Classroom: Let Literature Lead You Somewhere New

When you truly allow yourself to explore the required Filipiniana reads, you might discover a growing love for local literature that goes far beyond assignments. Reach out and dive into Nick Joaquin’s The Woman Who Had Two Navels, or explore Jessica Zafra’s sharp, witty essays. Maybe graphic novels like Trese by Budjette Tan and Kajo Baldisimo will catch your eye. The key is to find your own entry point—whether it’s poetry, historical fiction, or a short story you read once on a jeepney that still lingers in your mind.

Whatever sparks your curiosity, remember: when you read Philippine literature, you are reading stories about you—the Filipino. You are part of a rich national heritage and also a member of the global community. What are your distinctives? What parts of your identity and experience come to light through these readings? Let literature be your guide in understanding yourself and your place in the world.

It’s not just about finishing the required reading or submitting that paper. The true value lies in what the text awakens in you as you read, reflect, and discuss: a question, a fire, a memory. These works carry the voices of those who dreamed, suffered, fought, loved, and hoped before us. The least we can do is listen—and respond.

So the next time you see “Required Filipiniana Reads” on your syllabus, smile a little. It’s not a chore. It’s a chance.