It is no secret that the classics as well as the newest models in science-fiction writing are available for as low as P15 in any Booksale branch (except, curiously, in the SM Megamall for those who enjoy a bit of book-hunting: if one is lucky, one might find even A.E. van Vogt’s The World of Null-A or Robert Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters with all the lurid glory of their original covers. Some of my happiest memories of high-school was going to the branch in Shoppesville, Greenhills and unearthing some gem that none of my teachers would ever recommend. Sure, there were quite a few books that I wouldn’t care to read again but even the bad ones were still a lot more fun to read and better than, let’s say, Ayn Rand or any of that Paulo Coelho crap. (Far from being in sympathy with the Nazis but I still sometimes ponder if some books should be burned. Hey, I think people would be better off reading Mein Kampf than Mitch Albom: one is better off with monsters than the cloy.)
Also, I need a heady prerequisite of imagination in my literary diet. To be honest, that’s what our country needs most now. The social-realism in literature and movies (coalescing in Lino Brocka’s brilliant adaptation of Edgar Reyes’ masterpiece Sa Mga Kuko ng Liwanag) that gave the impetus to the first EDSA revolution has served its purpose. We need to imagine a life out of the slums, a transcendence that gives the Filipino a new perspective. I’m not advocating escapism because as quite a number of stories illustrate sf allows us to view of something much worse, a Manila even more dire than the one Julio Madiaga dies in. Gregorio Brillantes’ truly Pinoy sf short story The Apollo Centennial is possibly the best indictment of colonialism than all those lengthy and usually ponderous tomes put by more literal and well-known writers. (Baryon Tensor Posadas’ short story The Mall – wherein its protagonist is lost in a vast commercial complex in the future – captures my uneasy pleasure every time I go into our malls, the mystery and beauty of that long corridor to the fourth level restroom near the Power Plant cinemas or the floor overlooking the skating rink in Megamall when it is empty.) In this time of post-everything, the straight telling of the facts is no longer telling the truth.
"It seems that there is a strong tradition of realism in Filipino literature; I want to encourage Filipino unrealism," declared popular author Neil Gaiman after visiting our country last year. With this aim, he and Fully Booked have put together the First Philippine Graphic/Fiction Awards and as it’s co-chairman I’ve been asked countless times why we included science-fiction. Fantasy and horror as exemplified by our myths and komiks have long roots in our culture: science-fiction, in our backward third-world setting I’m told, does not suit us. That is debatable in a country where communication via text message has changed our whole culture, with an unofficial "patriotic" anthem is the theme to a show with an Orwellian premise. Science-fiction is no more written for scientists than ghost stories are written for ghosts, as Brian Aldiss once quipped; the Filipino, more than ever, should takes steps to this brave new world.