By Pennie Azarcon dela Cruz, Executive Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

BACK when I was in Grade 2, our family had the distinction of being one of the few households in that rat hole of Tondo to first own a TV set. Not just any ordinary television, mind, but a real “Made in the US” appliance, courtesy of a paternal uncle. I remember that it was housed in a dark wooden cabinet with sliding panels, with the Z in the “Zenith” brand looking much like a bolt of lightning.

How proud I was of that hulking gadget, never mind that the reception was bad and that I ruined my eyesight trying to see moving images thru the blurry screen. “They’re ants,” I declared categorically to my younger siblings when we couldn’t get anything but the snowy screen no matter how many times we flipped the channels. “It’s probably a nature show,” I added. I couldn’t bear the thought of people criticizing this one appliance that put me in the same league as my more privileged classmates. Kids even then were insufferable snobs, and it didn’t help that we wore hand-me-down “Ang Tibay” shoes (simply indestructible, I swear), to this Catholic school where most of the enrollees were shod in the more fashionable and expensive Greg boys shoes.

I protected that TV set like it was my personal virtue. Even better, I think. I was one selfish brat who shooed away neighborhood kids who climbed over our gate and crowded our window trying to watch the meager shows on local TV at that time. TV was our form of bonding in the ‘60s, with whole families gathered for “Oras ng Ligaya” or “Tangtarangtang” or “Tawag ng Tanghalan.” The entire neighborhood was still tuned in to “Tiya Dely,” her familiar theme music the one sure way to tell that it was now 3 in the afternoon. In fact, one could walk down the street to the main road without missing a word of this surrogate aunt’s advice since every household had their radio on the same station. But 6 pm was our glory hour—when clots of playmates would sidle up to our door, pretending to be on an errand just to be able to peek at the TV screen. We made a show of inviting them in, a grand gesture bestowed on favored friends of the moment.

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By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

EVERYONE says reading is dead or dying, the victim of shortened attention spans, TV or the Internet. Others says that reading is merely changing, migrating from the page to the screen. I’ve been asked why I haven’t moved to Amazon’s impressive little Kindle; I say it’s because I don’t just like reading, I like books: old-fashioned, made from dead trees books. It isn’t romantic, it’s just nothing matches the tactile feel of freshly minted books, the smell of the book paper, the sound of those crisp pages. I’m a holdout, and will continue to be so. My living spaces continue to be invaded happily by piles and piles of books; no shelves are enough to contain all my little treasures.

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By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

GETTING stuck in a vehicle in immobile traffic while the rain keeps on pouring and the water keeps on rising is truly horrific, especially if you are alone. It can trigger the most helpless feeling, being stuck in a car by yourself when the line of cars is standing still seemingly forever and the shower shows no signs of abating. There are a few ways to try and ride out the storm by yourself; reading a book, listening to a book tape, making calls on your cellphone and maybe even watching something on your iPod, laptop or (lucky) portable DVD player. But being trapped in a gridlocked vehicle with a bunch of other people — be it school bus service, college carpool or whatnot — adds an altogether different dimension of possibilities and options.

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By Pennie Azarcon dela Cruz, Executive Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

LIKE death and taxes, aging is inevitable — and terrifying. Think mortality, weakened knees, dementia, disease, being ignored and suddenly invisible.

In these isles where respect for elders is the norm and you’re not there yet, things can get really annoying.

(Photo: Author [right] and friend O find eternal youth in sharing laughter)

Overnight it seems, everyone on the street has become solicitous, reaching out a hand to assist you board the LRT, giving up their seats quicker than you can grasp the handrail, properly deferential with their “po” and “opo,” and, in this clan-conscious culture, suddenly filial, addressing you with the requisite “Nay” and “’Mi,” (short for Mommy), that you’ve always thought went with a full head of silver, a walker and a 45-degree stoop.

“Nay, ano’ng oras na po?” the burly kargador-looking man asks, seeing through the Mohawk hairstyle, the dangling earrings and the denims you’re wearing. “ ’Mi, dito po tayo,” the medical technician says, ever so gently, like he can see osteoporosis in your future even before he slips the negatives in the x-ray machine.
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By Ruel S. De Vera, Associate Editor
Sunday Inquirer Magazine

EVERYONE is an expert; it’s just a matter of finding what that area of expertise is. Sometimes, that area is a crossroads, an overlapping of two specialties, creating a unique one. Sometimes, it comes by accident. Since I review mostly books — and some movies — I am often asked what I think about motion pictures adapted from books.

That’s a trick question, of course. Even when adapted from a book, a movie is still a movie and has its own coherence. The book remains a book, even if a movie is made of it. They do not affect one another save for the initial shift from page to screen. Let me just say that devoted faithfulness to the original text is not required; indeed, sometimes, the difference between book and movie is what makes the movie special. Still, I look forward to seeing adaptations, particularly of novels. It is a very interesting case of fiction taking on a kind of three-dimensional life. Here then are five movies adapted from books that I thought were well done:

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