The most recommended books about the Philippines

Wow. A part of WW2 that I knew absolutely nothing about. I’ve read so much that takes place in Europe but nothing at all in the Pacific, so it opened up a whole new setting for me.

Fascinating, sad, heroic. Wonderful, realistic characters. An important and beautiful book that takes place in the Philippines.

Pau Hana is a concise overview of the immigration of workers from around the Pacific and the world, which created Hawai‘i's multiethnic community in the nineteenth and early twentieth century. The immigrants were recruited by the Hawaiian Monarchy and white sugar planters as laborers for their highly profitable plantations. Workers arrived from China, Portugal, Japan, Puerto Rico, Korea, the Philippines, and even Norway, and settled in the islands. Takaki details the work they did, the camp housing, the abuses and retaliation, the opium and alcohol, the gambling and prostitution, and the worker strikes that eventually resulted in better wages and working conditions.

The Aswang mythology of the Philippines is fascinating and storied, a menagerie of creatures as horrific as any from Transylvania. This novel by a Filipina-Canadian author about a young man returning to his roots to find more werewolfery than he bargained for delves into its fascinating lore with cultural authenticity.

Yap's debut collection is full of brilliant moments and haunting images. She wraps together Filipino folklore with characters who are endlessly rich and fascinating, and the result is sometimes terrifying, sometimes weird and unsettling, and always gorgeous. This book will leave you feeling as if uncanny worlds are waiting for you to discover them, just out of view. Many of these stories go to dark places, but then you stumble on a sweet tale like "A Spell For Foolish Hearts," involving a gay magician, a love potion, and a complicated relationship. You'll wish you could read this book for the first time more than once.

Are you a fan of the Beatles?

I am, and so is Apple Yengko, who wants desperately to learn to play the guitar but her mother says no. The family moved to Louisiana from the Philippines, after the death of Apple’s father, and everything about her mom embarrasses Apple.

Then, at the start of sixth grade, Apple realizes her one-time best friend cares only about social tiers and lists, including the so-called dog log. I love that Erin Entrada Kelly doesn’t shy away from the meanness of middle school!

What saves Apple are two new friends, including one with a beautiful voice, and at last Apple is comfortable showing who she is: a naturally talented guitar player.

Salman shows how the anti-slavery discourse became part of American imperialism and how contentious this issue became during US colonial administration over the Philippines. While the American administration acted with growing determination and harshness against slave-holding societies particularly in the Muslim southern part of the Philippines, it also adopted abolitionism as a legitimation for colonial rule over the entire Philippines. Salman exposes the paradoxes of imperialist rhetoric in which people were subjugated to free them from slavery. 

This book is not fiction, but rather a popular book about the direction of technology.

It was part of the original source inspiration for my own book. Written in 2003, it looked into the research about how mobile devices were beginning to change society, and redraw the lines to lead to modern tribalism. The book is now dated, as we have lived through twenty years of experience and much has changed.

Nevertheless, as a portrait of a moment in history, eminently readable, this book is an eye-opener.

The Philippine resistance of WWII was, in my opinion, the most admirable resistance organization of the war, whether European or Pacific. In fact, resistance among the Philippine people was so widespread, that the Japanese occupiers were almost correct in assuming any civilian they encountered was a resister on some level. Carlos Romulo, a Philippine aide de camp to General MacArthur and a hero to his countrymen, gives his personal account of the war in this excellent memoir.

I’m a huge fan of Werner Herzog, the director who gave us cinematic treats such as Fitzcarraldo and Bad Lieutenant, as well as startling documentaries like Grizzly Man.

As a multi-decade resident of Japan, I’ve been long intrigued by the story of Hiroo Onoda, the Japanese soldier who continued to patrol a remote island in the Philippines until he finally surrendered in 1974. Herzog’s first novel puts you inside the head of Onoda, a man that many would consider crazy, and makes you understand the obsessive logic of his worldview and marvel at his survivalist skills.

It’s a short book, but it made me think about how we construct the collective illusion we call reality. Those who refuse to accept it – like Onoda and the hero of Fitzcarraldo – we call madmen or geniuses.

Three friends in three different traumatic settings during WWII find the strength they need to survive while serving others as nurses.

Not just about the horrors of war, although there is that, this novel explores relationships and how, when tested, they can endure. I love the different characters, each written by a different author.

It was completely engaging.

This is evidence of the enduring appeal of the Santo Tomas story. More than half a century after the events that it describes, Cogan makes good use of interviews and printed sources. The Japanese Internment of American Civilians in the Philippines is especially valuable for its scholarly tone and comprehensive nature. It described the lives of internees in several camps.

The author recreated as a novel the adventures of a handful of Navy officers whose tiny Patrol Torpedo Boats more than held their own against the full might of the Japanese Navy during the fall of the Philippines. Told in the first person by three of the principal characters, we meet Douglas MacArthur, seasick and soaking wet, as he flees Manila in an overloaded PT Boat, and eventually reaches a smaller island from which he is flown to safety in Australia. And we see and are in awe, of these young naval officers. In 1951, when I was ten and perched on my father's shoulders, I saw MacArthur from just a few feet away as he passed during a Chicago parade. I became fascinated with the man and his legend, and here he is presented as a very human creature.

This easily digestible book is a must read for understanding the ways that the late-19th-century Sugar Trust and candy stores influenced early-20th-century imperial debates surrounding immigration and tariffs.

Merleaux’s enterprising study gets to the heart of how the American sweet tooth carved out many of the nation’s imperial cavities in the Caribbean and Asia-Pacific. 

Between Empires compares the anti-imperial literature and history of two former Spanish colonies, Cuba and the Philippines, but this time focusing on the late-nineteenth-century “intercolonial alliance” and, more specifically, on the oeuvres of two nationalist authors and national heroes: the Cuban José Martí and the Filipino José Rizal. Hagimoto explores a transpacific collective consciousness of resistance as well as the shared historical ties between Latin America and the Philippines. What I found more exciting about this book was that it reveals how, led by two national heroes and martyrs, there was still, well after the end of the Manila Galleon transpacific route, an end-of-nineteenth-century anti-colonial alliance between two far-away countries united by a shared history of colonial domination and oppression.

An easy vacation read is my go-to, so this book was perfect. I also read this during lockdown, when a vacation was only a fantasy anyway. It will not disappoint, the sun is real, the life is real and the need for love is compelling. Kat is a cute character I can relate to because I also moved to a country where it is summer all year round, but the sun doesn’t take your worries away.  

Alvar’s stories of men and women of the Philippine diaspora take place all over the globe, shedding insight on the export of labor.

As they separate from the safety and familiarity of family, the characters’ longing and aspirations are universal. This is an important book that helps to illuminate a fascinating and often painful experience of leaving, losing, and searching for home.

“Lolas” is the Tagalog word for “grannies,” referring to the aged women who survived Japanese military sex slavery in WWII. Lolas’ House skillfully weaves the heartrending first-person accounts of sixteen Filipina “comfort women,” snatched away from their homes and repeatedly violated by Japanese soldiers, with the riveting narratives of M. Evelina Galang, an American writer and professor of Filipina descent, who traveled with the Lolas to the sites of their abduction, protested with them at the gates of the Japanese Embassy in Manila, and became their trusted friends in documenting their stories. Galang says she “cannot rest until the stories are told.” I feel the same way. This book gives a powerful voice to the Filipina “comfort women.” 

The Onyx Seed is the second novel I’ve read by independent author R.W. Harrison, and it was a delightful surprise.

My love for all things creepy and weird (think X-Files) and Harrison’s fast-paced plotline kept me turning pages. I cared about the characters and their outcomes (which were sometimes quite grisly!) It was clear that Harrison really spent some time researching World War II and mythological history to get the story’s details to ring with truth, which I truly appreciate. 

After Steinman’s parents passed away, she found a trove of WWII-era letters her father wrote along with a silk flag inscribed to a man named Yoshio Shimizu. In this book, Steinman recounted her years-long quest to learn who Shimizu was, a search that resulted in a trip to Japan to return the precious artifact. At the same time, by reading her father’s letters, Steinman discovered a tender and expressive side of her father—a side that had been wiped away by trauma. Steinman’s book shines a light on the universal cost of war.

Gary Paulsen is best known for his novels for young people, such as the popular Hatchet, but this R-rated memoir is aimed at an adult audience. Of my five recommendations, this one is far and away the most representative of the miseries of a dysfunctional childhood. Paulsen’s parents were both alcoholics, and his mother had affairs that she could have done a much better job of hiding from her young son. Somehow, despite the trauma (or maybe because of it), Paulsen emerged as a successful and extraordinarily prolific writer. For those of us with wonderful childhood memories, this book serves as a reminder that not everyone is so lucky.