A book’s journey into the world

When Neil Garcia and I edited Ladlad: an Anthology of Philippine Gay Writing as well as its second and third incarnations, little did we know it would travel the world and be received in different strokes by different folks.

The first salvo came a week after its launching in April of 1994. I was in National Book Store when the sales ladies ran to me and told me in such breathless tones that their copies were gone, all snapped up by tall, muscular men who would ask them in low voices: “Miss, do you have copies of Ladlad?” These hunks bought five, 10, or more copies to bring with them to wherever it was they were going: back to work in the United States, or to study in the United Kingdom, or to immigrate in Australia.

Months later, our publisher Karina Bolasco would tell us that Ladlad was nominated for Best Anthology in the International Lesbian and Gay Association book competition. Since one-half of the book was in Filipino which the judges would not be able to read anyway, I knew we would lose. But being nominated for an international book prize, in our, as they say, first outing was honor enough.

I got a mountain of letters and e-mail messages dealing with the Ladlad series. Of course, there were those who consigned Neil and I to hell for editing such sinful books, heaven be praised for their reminders. But there were also thoughtful letters from young gay men, who told me that they felt less alone because they have read the book. They added that they feel there is a community out there, and in fact, we never failed to include the list of LGBT organizations in the first of the Ladlad series, precisely to encourage them to leave the cocoon and flit their gorgeous butterfly wings under the sun.

When I received a Fulbright Fellowship in 2000 to study Postmodern and Islamic Literatures at Rutgers University in New Jersey, I did not only read the required 1,000 pages a week. Following the advice of my graduate-school classmates, we also went dancing in New York. And in one of the bookstores in the Big Apple, I saw a book whose pink cover of a half-naked man looked all too familiar. It was Ladlad 2, selling for $24, when its Philippine selling price was not even one-fourth of this amount. When I was examining it, the cheerful female bookseller went to me and chirped: “That is a gay book from the Philippines! It’s selling well. D’ya want to get a copy?”

I just smiled at her and shook my head.

And over in Weho, the gay district of LA, the same thing happened: the first book in the Ladlad series was being sold, 10 copies in a neat pile, and was even displayed prominently in the store!

When I received an Asian Scholarship Foundation (ASF) fellowship in 2002 to do research on Malaysian Literature in English at the Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia (National University of Malaysia), I bought my Ladlad books with me. One day, I attended a meeting of Malaysian gay men, who asked me: “Professor Remoto, do you have gay books in the Philippines?”

I smiled at them and fished from my Kinokuniya book bag the three books in the Ladlad series. I still remember the glaze in their eyes. They touched the books and opened the pages, in wonder and disbelief and awe, saying: “You really did this in your country?”

And I felt like our perennial runners-up in the Miss Universe beauty pageant, proclaiming loud and clear for the whole world to hear: “Yes, The Philippines!”

Two years later, I received another ASF research fellowship, this time at the National University of Singapore. I attended a meeting of a group called People Like Us (PLU), four Singaporeans and myself, in a small room. I remember the Singaporeans looking over their shoulders and whispering in barely audible voices. Remember that this was Singapore of 2004, when the gay men were still afraid of the ancient anti-sodomy laws that could land them in jail in the city-state. But now, the Pride marches in Singapore are attended by 25,000 people!

It was our first and last meeting because the group disbanded the next week. They told me it would “cause them some discomfort” if we continue meeting as a group. So I just gave them my copies of the Ladlad series, which they held close to their chests, in our farewell meeting in one of Singapore’s cafes.

I also met a group of gay Filipinos in Singapore. They would become my friends, and we would watch films and cook dinners for each other, and gossip until the cows came home. But my first meeting with them left such an, how shall I put it, indelible impression on me.

When Tony, my flat mate, introduced me to the group, one of the younger men went to me and told me in such flabbergasted tones: “You edited Ladlad? Do you still remember the story ‘Pagkatapos ng Dilim’ by Rands Catalan?”

“Yes,” I answered. “In fact, he wrote that story in my apartment using my computer, and I edited the initial drafts of the story.”

Without batting his curly eyelashes, he told me: “Whenever I read that story, I cannot help but play with myself.”

I told him, “That must not have been the intention of Rands, but I’m sure he would be happy to have helped you.”

And in a full circle, I did return to Scotland to visit my former boyfriend and write my first novel at Hawthornden Castle in Midlothian on a writing fellowship. I also went back to the University of Stirling to meet my former professors who taught me everything I know about publishing.

One of them is Mr. Antony Kamm, our professor in Book Design, who is pigeon-breasted and smart as hell. We were in front of Mac Robert Arts Centre when he asked me what have Tina Cuyugan (my classmate) and I been up to since we left Stirling?

I told Mr. Kamm that Tina has just edited the first anthology of women’s erotica in the Philippines, and I just co-edited the first anthology of gay writing in my country.

Mr. Kamm rose to his full height of 5’6’’, looked me in the eye and said: “Well, it seems that Miss Cuyugan and you learrrrnt a good deal at univerrrrsity. Jolly good then!”

Later, I pressed into the hands of our professor copies of Tina’s book and mine, so our dear Mr. Kamm could check if we, indeed, followed the principles of book design that he painstakingly taught us in that memorable year in a cold and foreign land.

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This is the preface to The Best of Ladlad published by Anvil and available at National Book Store branches. Comments can be sent to danton_ph@yahoo.com.