Historiographic Metafiction:
Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo’s Recuerdo and
Lina Espina-Moore’s The Honey, The Locusts
Michael Marlowe G. Uy
I. Postmodernism and Historiographic metafiction Historiographic metafiction is a terminology in literary theory devised by Linda Hutcheon to refer to a sub-genre of postmodern novels that confront history. To understand historiographic metafiction as well as its defining features, it is of importance to know its theoretical basis, which is postmodernism and its effects on how history is conceptualized. It is in Brenda K. Marshall’s Counter-Memory and Historiographic Metafiction where there is a discussion on the postmodern underpinnings of historiographic metafiction. In the discussion of Marshall, the focus was on the changes of how history is perceived as brought about by postmodern thought. First, the critique of representation was raised, in which is there is “a refusal to see the past as constituted by events which we can innocently recapture and re-present through language. We no longer are able to think about absolute and unquestionable ‘facts’ or ‘truths’ of history, speaking now of ‘histories’ instead of History” (Marshall 147). Hence, it implies that the actual past cannot be known since the texts that historians use to make sense of the past cannot really recapture it. So instead of a singular factual history that claims knowledge of the truth, there is a multiplicity of histories that refuses absolutes and thus eliminates distinction between fact and fiction. Second, Derrida’s de-centering of the subject and its consequence on how history is viewed was also pointed out: “…we may no longer perceive of history as a linear construct which places the subject, in the present, in the privileged position of making sense of all that has come before—as if the subject were either outside of history, or else the final moment toward which all history has marched (Marshall 148).” In other words, the subject in the present cannot write history as if he is ‘outside’ of it. The rationale is because “we are never outside the labyrinth of discourse, we are never outside of a point of view or perspective…” (Marshall 148). Third, Foucault’s notion of history was particularly accentuated. As stated by Marshall:
The Foucauldian project places the onus on the historian to resist making sense of the past through the present, while interrogating the sense-making of the past or of the ‘other’. There is no assumption at work within the postmodern project about there being no such thing as a ‘real’ past, there is, rather, a recognition that the past is only available to us through various (and often contradictory) texts or discourses… The postmodern awareness is that both history and literature are discourses, and thus not to be talked of in terms of truth, as much as ‘whose truth’. History then, in Foucault’s terms, may become ‘counter-memory’: the process of reading history against its grain, of taking an acknowledged active role in the interpretation of history rather than a passive, viewing role. Counter-memory intervenes in history rather than chronicles it. (Marshall 150)
As drawn attention to by Marshall, postmodernism does not reject an actual past but rather accepts that the only means of access to the past are texts or discourses. History and literature in postmodernism are both discourses—in which the subject in the present cannot be ‘outside’ of as Derrida puts it. Truth as regards the past becomes irrelevant. History for Foucault then becomes ‘counter-memory’ wherein an active role is made in the interpretation of history instead of the passive, viewing role. That is to say, ‘counter-memory’ takes part in giving the past its meaning without really considering how truthful it is to the ‘actual’ past.
All of the abovementioned developments in how history is conceptualized due to postmodernism serve as the groundwork for historiographic metafiction. But most fundamental to it is the concept of history as ‘counter-memory’ by Foucault. This intervention of history by ‘counter-memory’ is very much related to historiographic metafiction. In fact, Marshall contends that it is its very function:
This intervention is precisely the role of the postmodern literature which Linda Hutcheon has called ‘historiographic metafiction’. The historiographic metafictionist refuses the possibility of looking to and writing about the past “as it really was.” Rather s/he takes on an active role, and ‘does’ the past, participates, questions, and interrogates. In short, the project of the historiographic metafictionist is the Foucauldian project of counter-memory: and they are both historical and political. (151)
The role of historiographic metafiction is to intervene in history. In order for it to proceed in its intervention, it does not strive to know and write about what actually occurred. Thus, the historiographic metafictionist plays an active role by means of tinkering the past. So instead of just writing down history based on historical sources that are textually-based, the historiographic metafictionist involves himself/herself in it.
Aside from the general idea that historiographic metafiction is the Foucauldian ‘counter-memory’, there are other characteristics that define this postmodern sub-genre. It is also Marshall who elaborates on these inter-related defining features of historiographic metafiction.
First, “by refusing the reader the illusion of a past or a history as the past or the history, historiographic metafiction insists on its capriciousness, as it overtly manipulates ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’” (Marshall 156). When ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’ are manipulated, the corollary is that the distinction between the two is blurred. So in a novel under the historiographic metafiction sub-genre, the story might be from the past but it is not the ‘actual’ past for the author, narrator, or the author-narrator introduces imaginary people and events in the story.
Second, it does not impose upon the reader-receiver an absolute account of the past. Instead, it provides an alternative perspective(s) in looking at the past. That means it tolerates other histories that deal with the same event. According to Marshall: Historiographic metafiction does not tell us how to think about a certain event; rather it says: “that’s one way of looking at things, now here’s another, and another, and another” (156).
Third, “Historiographic metafiction comes with a warning and a challenge: the reader is warned that this story, like all others will be skewed, and is then challenged to remain aware of the skewing, using the skewed tale toward an acknowledged end” (Marshall 156). This is related to the first characteristic wherein it manipulates ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’. In historiographic metafiction, the reader is warned that there is a distortion in the story, which he/she must be constantly aware of as reading the text.
Fourth, it moves away from the patriarchal paradigm that is predominant in recorded history. This is done through a “critical revisiting” of the past. Instead of the experience and perspectives of men, it narrates those of the women, who were often left out or were given less attention in the narratives. Marshall expounds on this characteristic of historiographic metafiction in her discussion of Christa Wolf’s novel Cassandra:
Because our history of Western metaphysics takes place within a tradition of the subject as male, an attempted return to the origin in history often reproduces or substantiates a patriarchal system. Christa Wolf’s historiographic metafiction Cassandra enacts a “critical revisiting” of the past in an attempt to reread the events around the fall of Troy outside of a patriarchal paradigm. As Hutcheon explains, in Homer’s presentation of this particular history, only the patriarchal experience of war got narrated, “whereas in Wolf’s Cassandra there is an entire parallel world of women living in caves outside Troy and it is Cassandra—the ex-centric woman artist figure—who tells its history…Cassandra’s “critical revisiting” points to the historical absence, the lack, of the voice of women. (Hutcheon qtd in Marshall 158)
As made clear by Marshall, historiographic metafiction in its “critical revisiting” goes back to popularly known narratives produced by a patriarchal system that focus on men and their undertakings. The “critical revisiting” does away with the patriarchal system and consequently shifts focus from the men to the women and gives them a voice in the new narrative.
Fifth, it focuses on the lives of people in times of war rather than the war itself. According to Marshall:
The stories of war survive, the stories of people’s lives do not. To intrude upon this pattern is one of the goals of postmodern’s historiographic metaficiton: to provide a memory counter to one dedicated to war. This is where postmodern fiction most clearly shows its debt to both feminist and ethnic theory and art, and to their insistence on reorienting “historical method to highlight the past of the formerly excluded ex-centric”. (163)
The emphasis is not on the bloody encounters between soldiers of opposing factions; historiographic metafiction tells stories of people whose lives were affected by the war, which are mostly forgotten and not included in the larger narrative.
Sixth, the narrator in a piece of historiographic metafiction situates himself/herself within history. That is to say, she is part of the discourse. The narrator is not an outside observer but a participant in the narrative. As succinctly put by Marshall “the narrator-author within these texts is rarely guilty of invoking “objectivity, the accuracy of facts, and the permanence of the past.” These narrators position themselves within history, not above it, or beyond it” (171).
Lastly, “The character of historiographic metafiction, as a subject position, is constituted by culture, by society, by history, and from this subject position, insists on his/her central role in telling his/her own history, that is, insists on constituting as well. As readers, however, we are cautioned against wholehearted acceptance of their versions of history simply by their outrageousness” (Marshall 173).
II. Recuerdo as historiographic metafiction
Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo’s Recuerdo is a prime example of Filipino literature written in English under the historiographic metafiction sub-genre. It can be said that this novel faithfully adheres to the Foucauldian concept of history as "counter-memory”. In the novel, there is an intended intervention in well-known events in Philippine History. Given this circumstance, the assertion can be put forward that Recuerdo serves a “counter-memory” of Philippine History. Several salient characteristics of historiographic metafiction as pointed out by Marshall appear in the novel. These characteristics show how Pantoja-Hidalgo’s Recuerdo is a work of historiographic metafiction that intervenes in Philippine History and thus serves as its “counter-memory”.
But before discussing Recuerdo as a prime example of historiographic metafiction by showing how the defining features of this sub-genre are evident in it, there is a need to elucidate on some important details as regards the novel, which would be of use in the succeeding discussions. Its author Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo devised a distinct format for it. She created a character named Amanda who in turn made an account of her family’s history. So there is Pantoja-Hidalgo as real-world author of Recuerdo but within the novel, there is a fictional author-narrator named Amanda. Concerning its structure, instead of the usual chapters as used in most novels, it would seem at first that the novel has letters sent by Amanda to her daughter Risa. This would be from Letter 1 up to Letter 38. These letters contain stories about their family’s history from the early Spanish period up to their time at the present. However, it is in Letter 39, which was addressed to a Rafael M. Ortega, where the reader is made aware that Letter 1 up to Letter 38 were not really true letters sent by Amanda to her daughter but was her written account of her family’s history pieced together as a novel.
To put it concisely, there is a novel within a novel in Recuerdo. Thus, there are two planes of existence that share the same text: the fictional-world and the real-world; or it could be phrased that the text of Recuerdo could be both considered as text of the real-world as well as that of the fictional-world. For this reason, the author of the text in the real-world is Pantoja-Hidalgo; but in its fictional-world, it is Amanda Vargas-Moreno. Nevertheless, the text of Recuerdo in both planes of existence is a work of historiographic metafiction. That is to say, in both fictional-world and real-world, the text serves as ‘counter-memory’ and exhibits the defining characteristics of the sub-genre as listed down by Marshall. In the same vein, the two authors though of different planes of existence are historiographic metafictionists. The underlying principle is simple. The fictional-world novel produced by Amanda as well as her character as the fictional author-narrator are still dependent on the real-world novel and real-world author for them to exist. So if the fictional-world novel bears the defining features of historiographic metafiction, then it becomes necessary that the real-world novel also bears those features. It is also because of this dependence that the fictional-world novel draws on the real-world Philippine History to which it also serves as ‘counter-memory’ like the real-world novel. If the fictional narrator-author Amanda Vargas-Moreno is a historiographic metafictionist, it becomes necessary that the real-world author Pantoja-Hidalgo is also a historiographic metafictionist. Nonetheless, the positions of these authors in the discourse are different.
Historiographic metafiction manipulates ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’. For this reason, its narrative does not deal with the ‘actual’ past. Thus, there might be details that are factual but at the same time there also those which are fictional. They are interwoven together in literary works under this sub-genre. Recuerdo highlights this attribute of historiographic metafiction. In the novel, the stories of Amanda’s ancestors/ancestress are positioned all throughout a Philippine History that is not actually the Philippine History. Even in the fictional-world of Recuerdo, Amanda’s version of her family’s history is not the ‘actual’ family history. There is a merging of the imagination and reality to produce a work of historiographic metafiction and such occurred in Recuerdo. In the last letter (chapter) of the novel, Amanda admitted to Rafael Ortega that the novel she has produced fused together and manipulated ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’ to the extent that she no longer knows the demarcation between the two. There was an admission on the part of Amanda as metafictionist. As specified in the text:
You are, after all, at least partly responsible, as it was you who urged this project on me, you who convinced me to put together all of Mama’s tales and see if they wouldn’t turn out to be a novel. Actually they didn’t; they remained a cluster of tales. So I thought I’d try this form. And then I invented a bit, and embellished a bit, and brought in bits of my own life, and brought you in as well. (I hope you don’t mind this too much.) Is this the way writers of novels do things? Is this all part of the craft? But now, a strange thing has happened---I’m no longer sure which parts are real and which are imagined. “Real?” I suppose I mean which parts were actually told to me by Mama, which parts actually happened, and which are my own fantasies. Does it matter? I think it should matter, for me as a person. I mean, if this is a repository of the family memories, mine included, then it should be important to know which details are, in fact, memories. But what am I saying? This isn’t memory; this is fiction. Ah, you seem what I mean, Rafael? (Pantoja-Hidalgo 278)
Even the sources she makes use of like her mother’s tales are susceptible to the very same manipulation of fact and fiction that she did while writing the novel about her family’s history. This shows the historiographic metafictionist Amanda’s disregard for the veracity of the past.
In addition to that, the stories of Amanda’s ancestors/ancestress were all related to important events in Philippine History. She admits skewing the stories of these people as well as the period of history they were part of. In other words, the novel produced by Amanda the author-narrator of the fictional-world Recuerdo has a manipulation of ‘fact’ and fiction’ in both her family’s history and in Philippine History. With regard to the manipulation of ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’ about her family’s history, she admits this to Rafael Ortega in the last letter. As stated by Amanda in the text:
And, as you’ll find, I invented some characters. Like Josefina’s lover. The real Josefina did have a lover, but Mama does not know his name or anything about him. This was simply not talked about in the family, and was therefore obliterated. So I made up Dr. Alberto Tirona. I’m not sure “invented” is the right word for this, though. It’s more like the story gave birth to some of the characters…The Beatriz episode is sheer fiction. I mean there was love between the real Beatriz and the real Roberto, according to Mama, who knows of it because the real Beatriz told her so in Baguio (yes, the Baguio part is real too); but how it all came to be is made up. Mama couldn’t give me any details as she didn’t know them. (Pantoja-Hidalgo 280)
However, it is not only her family’s history where imagination and reality coalesced. As a historiographic metafictionist, whose basis is postmodernism, there is a refusal in Amanda to believe in texts as the storage device that captures the past. As such, primary source documents which are textually-based are not given the privilege of having captured the ‘actual’ past. That is why in Amanda’s novel, there is a distortion of a primary source document, which she did not explicitly confess to Ortega like what she did with her distortion of her family’s history through her conscious insertion of imaginary elements. A distortion of a primary source document is tantamount to skewing facts and turning them into something fictional. This distortion of a primary source document is found in letter thirteen. In it Amanda cites passages from a primary source document that tells what happened to her great-grandfather Lolo Enchong (Lorenzo Ramirez) as written by her great-aunt Tia Chato (Chato Rosario Ramirez) (Pantoja-Hidalgo 91). These cited passages recount the details of what happened to those men of Nueva Caseres who were executed for treason. Now, this primary source that Amanda cites is a realistic primary source document. By realistic, it means it exists outside the fictional world of Recuerdo or is a real-world primary source document. This was not written by a Chato Rosario Ramirez. Rather it was the eldest daughter of Florencio Lerma, the real person who was arrested, executed, and became one of the martyrs of Nueva Caseres and not a Lorenzo Ramirez, named Doña Patrocinio who wrote the account and gave it to the Malolos Press (Ataviado 21). To put it simply, Amanda who lives in the fictional-world of Recuerdo made use of a real-world primary source document and distorted it by changing the names of the person who wrote the primary source document and the person who is talked about in the text of the document. In here, there is a fictional character that plays the role of the historiographic metaficionist who fictionalizes a real-world factual document and in the process distorts it. This very distortion of the primary source document is a blatant intervention of history.
Another characteristic of historiographic metafiction that is evident in the text of Recuerdo is its “critical revisiting” of Philippine History, which means that it does away with the patriarchal paradigm that predominates Philippine historiography. Because the Philippines is largely a patriarchal society and culture, it became inevitable that most of its historical narratives spoke about the great male figures and their accomplishments. Recuerdo as ‘counter-memory’ focuses on the lives of the ordinary Filipina instead. The stories that Amanda the fictional author-narrator narrates in her novel about her family’s history are those of the females of her bloodline who lived in different periods of Philippine History. But Amanda’s stories about these women of her family line were nothing of the stereotypical Filipina who were demure, weak, submissive to the men, dependent to their male counterparts, domestic, and in general bound to socio-cultural conventions of what a Filipina ought to be. Her stories of her ancestress underscored how they broke the norms of how the Filipina is portrayed in history and literature and how they are viewed upon in a male-oriented Filipino culture. Their defiance of these socio-cultural conventions and norms made their actions taboo at the same time extraordinary. A good case in point would be the story of the character Cresencia Lucero or Maestra Cresing.
The character of Maestra Cresing was situated in the period of Philippine History when Katipuneros revolted against the Spanish colonizers. So in the accounts of Amanda, she lived in the late 19th century. Even at that time, her story showed that she was not a stereotypical Filipina. As described in the text:
She was an unusual lady, having studied many years—much longer than most women of her time—as an “interna” in one of those “colegios” in Intramuros. And she had returned to her own province to become a teacher. She was fair of face and comely of figure, but she spurned all her suitors, choosing instead to devote herself to her pupils, whom she fervently believed to be the only hope for her enslaved country. This caused her to be regarded by the townsfolk with a reverence that bordered on awe. (Pantoja-Hidalgo 80)
Based on her description in the text, Maestra Cresing was one of those educated women during her time that did not prioritize marriage or a domestic life but instead the education of the youth, who she believed were the hope of her country. Hence, it presents that there was an educated woman like her male ilustrado counterparts and locally-educated indios who was also conscious about the gaining of the country’s freedom. But rather than a bloody violence, her means of attaining that goal was through education of the youth. This is in contrast with the patriarchal approach which is that of a violent revolution.
But it was in the story about an attempted Katipunero raid of her town where it is showed how this woman was really different from the stereotypical Filipina and how her actions showed opposition to the incredulous behavior of Filipino men at this time of the revolution. As stated in the text:
When news of the coming of the Katipuneros reached the townspeople, there was panic. For the town had many “hacenderos” of Spanish descent—and the town itself was known to be pro-government. According to rumors, the revolutionaries had sworn to execute all residents of the town – “Kastilla, mestiso, at maka-Kastilang indio”…Maestra Cresing was begging for the “cura paroco’s” life! The general shook his head again. Impossible, he said curtly. And why, his cold eyes demanded, do you ask for such a thing? Are you his woman? Traitor to your own people? Are you one of them? Maestra Cresing ignored the insult. Very graciously, she invited the general and his officers to dismount, to allow their sweating horses to rest, and to accept the hospitality of her humble home...Maestra Cresing did not plead in vain. The general, charmed by her grace as well as by her eloquence, and appeased by the aunt’s excellent chocolate and rice cakes, gave the orders: the townspeople to be spared. Everyone, including the Spaniards. Everyone but the priest. (Pantoja-Hidalgo 81-82)
This episode showed how a Filipina woman stood for her townsfolk from being wiped out by Katipuneros. This action of bravery and her initiative to defend her people through a non-violent manner broke a lot of socio-cultural norms about the Filipina woman. At the same time, this functioned as a critique of the patriarchal system and how it mishandles issues. This serves as ‘counter-memory’ because the hero portrayed was not the Katipuneros and their violent revolution, which is commonly upheld in Philippine Historiography, but that of a Filipina woman who defied social norms.
As female characters like Cresing are situated in different periods in Philippine History, there is a ‘critical revisiting’ of Philippine History as these women figures shed light on the female experience in Philippine History. This female experience has been neglected largely by the historiography of a patriarchal society. Thus, in Recuerdo as a work of historiographic metafiction, there is a rereading of Philippine History outside of the patriarchal paradigm.
Moreover, another characteristic of historiographic metafiction manifest in Recuerdo is that also provides a memory counter to war. Instead of war stories, the story provided by Amanda during the time of World War II emphasized more on the painful experience of the women when the men, who were active in the war resistance movements, were captured and executed by the Japanese.
They were taken to Fort Santiago and kept there. The women could not find out what was happening to them. Rumors leaked out but could not be confirmed. Doña Chato and Doña Paz were stunned. The nightmare was happening all over again. Would God permit the same horror twice in a lifetime? The women were to learn the terrible details only much later. (Pantoja-Hidalgo 252)
But then again, the story did not stop with their painful experience. There was also the story of how they struggled to move on independently now that the men were gone. Amanda tells the story of Doña Chato establishing a catering business, Eloisa teaching piano lessons, Elisa setting up a dress shop, Andrea going into buy-and-sell, Doña Choleng taking in boarders in their house, and Isabel going back to teaching in college and then working as secretary for an American businessman (Pantoja-Hidalgo 254-255). These function as counter-memory because stories of war highlight the heroics and martyrdom of the men. The painful experience of the women during the war in dealing with their men being taken away and executive and after the war as they move on with their lives are tales not really given attention in Philippine History.
Furthermore, Recuerdo also exhibits a defining characteristic of historiographic metafiction and that is the narrator situates himself/herself as part of the narrative—as part of the discourse. The fictional author-narrator Amanda did situate herself as part of the narrative. Given that she was writing about her family’s history from the Spanish era up to her generation, she included her life story in the narrative. Amanda as author-narrator of the fictional-world Recuerdo does not position herself above or beyond her family’s history but within it.
Lastly, the history told by a character in a work of historiographic metafiction contains a lot of outrageous elements that are unbelievable. Amanda the narrator-author admits to have used this when she wrote the fictional-world Recuerdo. In the letter to Rafael Ortega, she stated:
And how realistic is it to have someone writing two or three or four letters a month for 12 months? And such long letters they are too, even if more of them are done by e-mail. But why do I worry about realism? This is hardly a realistic narrative. Another misgiving: is it possible, through such letters ---letters written by just one character---to convincingly create the character she is supposed to be corresponding with? Which is what I tried to do with the Risa character. When I last reread my draft, I thought that my efforts in that direction, though not a dismal failure, left much to be desired. (Pantoja-Hidalgo 279)
These unrealistic elements of Recuerdo stress the disregard for what is real. As the narrator-author of the fictional-world, Amanda the historiographic metafictionist was aware that what she was writing was a work of historiographic metafiction. Realism was not the motivation in the first place. Thus, there were imaginary elements that are outrageous for it is a fictional piece after all.
III. The Honey, The Locusts
Lina Espina-Moore’s novel The Honey, The Locusts has characteristics of historiographic metafiction. However, compared to Recuerdo, there are not just as many in this novel. The novel can be considered a work of historiographic metafiction because it shifts away from the patriarchal paradigm as well as serves as a memory counter to war. In fact, these two characteristics of historiographic metafiction are intertwined in The Honey, The Locusts. It is by means of the analysis of the major characters that these two characteristics of historiographic metafiction become apparent.
The major characters of the novel are all females who were in the Philippines during World War II when the Japanese occupied the former American colony. Instead of the war itself, the experiences of the women during the war were underscored in the novel. Through the experiences of Jenny Carey, Marian Abella, and Jessica Gabriel, it can be seen how The Honey, The Locusts makes a ‘critical revisit’ of that period in Philippine History.
First, there is the experience of the character Jenny Carey who was an American mestiza married to an American navy man who was imprisoned in Cabanatuan by the Japanese (Espina-Moore 10-11). Through this character and her experience, it illumines how the women had to do whatever they can just to have some contact with their men, who because of their involvement in the war were taken away from them. Jenny was lucky because a Japanese fellow named by the Nakamura-san agreed to deliver the letters and stuff to her detained husband. This was a dangerous dealing for people conspiring with the Japanese, particularly those granted favors, were not seen in a good light by Filipinos, specially the guerillas. In addition, it also put her in a position where could be taken advantage of by the Japanese. But then again, she had to pursue this dangerous dealing for her husband’s sake. This dealing with the Japanese is shown in the text:
O.K. I’ll tell you. I can send a letter and stuff to Bill…It’s Nakamura-san. She waited to see the surprise of incredulity or puzzle on Fe’s face, which were not long in coming. He said I can send a letter and food package to Bill. “In Cabanatuan?” Fe wanted to be assured. “The very hell hole—Cabanatuan.” “Nakamura-san,” Fe repeated under her breath. “Why bless him; bless the fish sauce in his veins!”…”. (Espina-Moore 10-11)
Another interesting passage from the text is found in the conversation between Fe and Jenny, when the latter explains why her dealing with Nakamura-san had to be a secret. As stated in the text:
You know why this has to be a secret?” “Because there’ll be thousands who’ll ask for the same favor?” “That’s it, gal. Gee, but you’re smart.” There would indeed be daughters, sisters, wives, friends who would fight for the chance to hear or be heard from by relatives in the concentration camps. But to be able to send food, and it not even Christmas time yet, would be the miracle they would be praying for. (Espina-Moore 11)
This indicates that women at that time would do a lot just to know what happened to the men and make contact with them; more so to be able to send them food and other goods. The experience of Jenny and the abovementioned passages underscore the experience of women who were left because their men—husbands, fathers, brothers, male friends and relatives were captured for having participated in the war. It shows the experience of the women willing to do compromises for the sake of their ‘fallen’ men. Thus, it can be said that this is both a memory counter to war stories, where the heroics and struggles of men as combatants are emphasized, and a veering from the patriarchal paradigm of the Philippines. It does not tell the story of the men within concentration camps and how they managed to escape or survive; instead the emphasis is on the struggle of the women to do anything even allowing themselves to be placed in compromising situations just to know that the men are alive, have contact with them, and provide them with stuff and food.
Second, there is the story of Marian Abella, who had to become the family’s breadwinner after her father, who in patriarchal society is provider of the family, disappeared. As stated in the text:
Marian was the daughter of a major in the Philippine Army who had not been heard of since he was assigned in San Fernando, Pampanga at the outbreak of the war…Marian who was in her last year of a course in Education in Sta. Escolastica College when the war broke out…Upon the first signs of want, Marian with the help of Sylvia and Freddie, sold guinatan on the sidewalk fronting their house on Singalong street, later adding halo-halo and puto palitaw…Now with her mother’s added hand, Marian went to work at the Starling. But whatever spare time she had, she spent crocheting. She sold the blouses, shawls and shopping bags to her fellow workers and neighbors, or brought them to Plaza Goiti where she and Fe went to buy, sell, or barter. (Espina-Moore 14)
This indicates that the women had to step up and wear the shoes of the ‘fallen’ men to become providers of their families. In the case of Marian, she had to assume the role of breadwinner of the family. Somewhat similar to Fe, Marian had to break out of the socio-cultural convention wherein the women should not be the primary provider or wage earner of the family, particularly when the work is regarded as menial and distasteful. But here we see in Marian how a woman rises to the occasion even showing independence from men.
Lastly, there is the story of Jessica Gabriel. It is through this character where the “critical revisiting” of the past is really evident. The two characteristics of historiographic metafiction found in The Honey and the Locust, which are the veering away from the patriarchal paradigm and the serving as memory counter to the war, is very much accentuated in the sub-plot about Jessica Gabriel.
The setting of this sub-plot shows no trace of the violence of warfare, the heroism of the Filipino and American soldiers, and even guerilla resistance forces. Even the inhabitants of the town of Talavera, which was the place where the events of this sub-plot occurred, had no fear of danger from any Japanese attack. In fact, it was as if they were living their normal lives in a remote rural town. As stated in the text of the novel:
For, in the afternoons, the city folks visited one another. There was not much to do after the morning chores: tending to subsistence vegetable gardens, feeding the handful of poultry and even fewer livestock, perhaps seeing off one of the family members on his way to the city for some bartering and other activities of an agricultural economy…There were those who, like Jessie…wanted simply to pause with friends: converse while picking pebbles from among the rice and corn grains, sewing, chopping kindling, grating coconuts or helping a neighbor salt and dry the extra catch of fish. Talk kept going for there was much to talk about: the delectable municipal gossips: reminiscences—for there were much to remember; speculation—for there was the future to speculate on. (Espina-Moore 137)
The town of Talavera and the everyday lives of the people that lived there serve as a memory counter to the war. Even though it was during World War II and the Japanese were occupying the Philippines, there seemed to be no fear among the people in the town. There was also no Japanese presence in it. The people just lived normal live even though they were evacuees from the city. So it is quite clear that the place and the people in it were detached from war.
With a setting that does not conjure any of the images of the war, the story of Jessica Gabriel does not have anything much to do with the war and instead shows an experience that may happen regardless of the situation of the Philippines. In her story, her husband was away since he participated in the resistance forces. So she was left with their baby. While in Talavera, she had a passionate affair with a Raul Gil. That was already very taboo on her part to do that. However, it was in her seduction of the priest Padre Emil Gil, who was a cousin of the man she had an affair with, in which the woman toppled the reins of the Philippine patriarchal society. As stated in the text:
Her homespun blouse did not conceal her neck and shoulders. But it was the warmth, the heat of her that made him cover them with kisses, his hands slipping over a dip into a perspiring cleavage, seeking precious mounds. As she spun around, her breasts were sculpted spun sugar. No, no, not salt, sugar. He held her. He was happy, very happy. In his arms she stood quiet, obedient, dove of Solomon, feeling the waking, mounting virility, pulsation of a man of this earth. But from nowhere, Raul was suddenly there. He touched his cousin, Emilio, gently on the shoulder. “Emil”, he said, “she’s mine”. (Espina-Moore 153-154)
When the priest gave in to her seduction, it was the submission of what was a male-controlled society to a woman. For a patriarchal society to maintain its status, there are institutions like the church, with its strict enforcement of only having the men as priests, uphold the status quo. In the story of Jessica Gabriel, the portrayal of Padre Emil as a hypocrite priest for falling into the ‘sins’ of the flesh showed the weakness of such a patriarchal system. He fell into the very trap that he was denigrating Jessica for. On the other hand, Jessica manipulated these men by means of sexuality. When Raul and Padre Emil gave in to the seductions of Jessica, there was a shift of power from the men to the woman. This can be considered a critique of the ills of a patriarchal society as well as an elucidation of the woman’s prowess to use men. Through this story of Jessica Gabriel, there is the submission of men to a woman, thus veering away from a patriarchal paradigm wherein men impose their will over the women. It was the other way around in this story.
IV. Conclusion
Historiographic metafiction as a postmodern sub-genre relies on the concept of history as ‘counter-memory’. Instead of chronicling the ‘actual’ past, it intervenes in it without really having to consider what ‘actually’ happened. Pantoja-Hidalgo’s Recuerdo is a prime example of a Filipino novel written in English that belongs to the sub-genre classified as historiographic metafiction. It showed the characteristics of this sub-genre such as the manipulation of ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’ and the conscious skewing of factual details, the “critical revisiting of the past” by moving away from a patriarchal paradigm, a memory counter to war, the inclusion of the narrator in the historical narrative, and the introduction of outrageous elements that are unbelievable. On the other hand, Espina-Moore’s The Honey, The Locusts had two characteristics of historiographic metafiction that were intertwined. First, it provided a memory counter to war; and second, it veered from a patriarchal paradigm by highlighting the experiences of the women during that period in Philippine History. Both these novels as works under the sub-genre of historiographic metafiction intervene in Philippine History precisely through the characteristics of the sub-genre that are manifest in their text. Both novels do not tell the reader of the ‘actual’ past. Nonetheless, through a constructed narrative, the two novels provide a ‘counter-memory’ to Philippine History.
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