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The Three-Cornered Sun
Linda Ty-Casper’s The Three-Cornered Sun tells the story of the Philippines on the brink of revolution against Spain in 1896. Filtered through the recollections of the author’s grandmother Gabriela Paez Viardo de Velasquez, The Three-Cornered Sun follows the lives of the members of the Viardo family as they go through the turbulent times of that tumultuous year—sometimes on opposing sides. First published in 1979, the historical novel is interspersed with appearances of notable figures of the period, such as Andrés Bonifacio and Emilio Aguinaldo. In a new foreword written for this edition, historian Manuel L. Quezon III notes that The Three-Cornered Sun “is more accurately a story that explores how the revolution was itself a confrontation between Filipinos.”
- GenresHistorical Fiction
460 pages, Paperback
Published March 1, 2024
16 people are currently reading
174 people want to read
About the author
Linda Ty-Casper
17 books17 followersLinda Ty-Casper is a highly-acclaimed Filipino writer. She was born as Belinda Ty in Manila, Philippines in 1931. Her father worked in the Philippine National Railways; her mother was a school teacher and textbook writer. It was her grandmother who told her stories about the Philippine struggle for independence, a topic she picked up in her novels. She has law degrees from the University of the Philippines and Harvard. However, erroneous and biased statements in books at Widener Library converted her into an advocate, through faithfully researched historical fiction, of Filipino's right to self-definition/determination.
Her numerous books are generally historical fiction. The Peninsulars centers on eighteenth-century Manila; The Three-Cornered Sun written on a Radcliffe Institute grant, deals with the 1896 Revolution; and Ten Thousand Seeds, the start of the Philippine American War. Contemporary events, including martial law years, appear in Dread Empire, Hazards of Distance, Fortress in the Plaza, Awaiting Trespass, Wings of Stone, A Small Party in a Garden, and DreamEden.
Her stories, collected in Transparent Sun, The Secret Runner, and Common Continent, originally appeared in magazines such as Antioch Review, The Asia Magazine, Windsor Review, Hawaii Review, and Triquarterly. One short story was cited in The Best American Short Stories of 1977 Honor Roll. Another won a UNESCO and P.E.N. prizes.
She has held grants from the Djerassi Foundation, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and the Wheatland Foundation. She and her husband, (literary critic and professor emeritus of Boston College) Leonard Casper, reside in Massachusetts. They have two daughters.
(biography lifted from: http://www.palhbooks.com/Linda.htm)
Her numerous books are generally historical fiction. The Peninsulars centers on eighteenth-century Manila; The Three-Cornered Sun written on a Radcliffe Institute grant, deals with the 1896 Revolution; and Ten Thousand Seeds, the start of the Philippine American War. Contemporary events, including martial law years, appear in Dread Empire, Hazards of Distance, Fortress in the Plaza, Awaiting Trespass, Wings of Stone, A Small Party in a Garden, and DreamEden.
Her stories, collected in Transparent Sun, The Secret Runner, and Common Continent, originally appeared in magazines such as Antioch Review, The Asia Magazine, Windsor Review, Hawaii Review, and Triquarterly. One short story was cited in The Best American Short Stories of 1977 Honor Roll. Another won a UNESCO and P.E.N. prizes.
She has held grants from the Djerassi Foundation, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and the Wheatland Foundation. She and her husband, (literary critic and professor emeritus of Boston College) Leonard Casper, reside in Massachusetts. They have two daughters.
(biography lifted from: http://www.palhbooks.com/Linda.htm)
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
April 15, 2024
Reading The Three-Cornered Sun reminded me of my time with another historical fiction favorite, “A Thread Of Grace,” by Mary Doria Russell. Both books are well-researched, beautifully told, and push forward a perspective of history as experienced by ordinary people.
The novel tells the story of the Philippine Revolution through a single family—the Viardos—who found themselves on different sides of the war. Told from the perspective of various members of the family, the reader gets a rich understanding of the Revolution and what it means for each individual.
A familiarity with the timeline of the Revolution is assumed from the reader. There are mentions of important battles and personalities, but for the majority of the book, the reader is plunged into the chaos of it all. I felt swept by the tides of the battles being won at first, then being lost. Filipinos turn against one another as leaders fight and factions form. In the end, even the land felt hostile to the revolutionarios. In one of my favorite scenes, Cristobal muses he “could not recall exactly when they began losing what they had gained, when the land began feeding upon them…”
The novel underscores the individual cost of joining the revolution. The existential crisis of the indio who thinks God must be on the side of the Castila because “all images of saints resemble them.” How helping the cause means losing livelihood, how freeing the country from tyranny means turning one’s back to God and dooming one’s soul to Hell.
Many horrific things to witness, but the juxtaposition of brutal things happening with the beautiful terrain and landscape gets me every time. I also love the river motif flowing all throughout the narrative. The beautiful passages about the Pasig River and the Rio Grande de Pampanga will stay with me. I’ve not grown up near any rivers, and I don’t necessarily understand their might, but after this novel, I have a newfound awe and respect toward our rivers. I will never look at the Pasig River the same way again.
I did find myself tripping on the prose at some parts. More than once, I reread passages to understand what was happening. And I still can’t decide if that’s on the text or me. (Probably on me.)
The ending scene is perhaps the bleakest part of the book. One I'm still recovering from. But what I appreciate is the book does not moralize. It does not try to pass judgment. It's just telling the story for what it is, and holds a mirror to the reader. I am furious at that ending, but I would have done the same. I would have probably just watched, too, horrified but unable to move as horrific things were being done to my fellow men out of self-preservation. And there's a lot to reflect on.
The Three-Cornered Sun “explores how the revolution was itself a confrontation between Filipinos,” Manuel Quezon III wrote in his foreword for this new edition of the book. And I couldn’t have worded it better. We know dates and battlegrounds, and we probably hold opinions on Bonifacio, Aguinaldo and Rizal, but the novel weaves a tapestry of textures, layers and humanity into the history we Filipinos think we already know well.
I’m definitely on the hunt for other works written by Linda Ty-Casper. This historical fiction is just so well done.
Thank you to Exploding Galaxies for gifting me a copy of this book. I’m excited to see what hidden gems the press will unearth next for the Filipino reader to rediscover.
The novel tells the story of the Philippine Revolution through a single family—the Viardos—who found themselves on different sides of the war. Told from the perspective of various members of the family, the reader gets a rich understanding of the Revolution and what it means for each individual.
A familiarity with the timeline of the Revolution is assumed from the reader. There are mentions of important battles and personalities, but for the majority of the book, the reader is plunged into the chaos of it all. I felt swept by the tides of the battles being won at first, then being lost. Filipinos turn against one another as leaders fight and factions form. In the end, even the land felt hostile to the revolutionarios. In one of my favorite scenes, Cristobal muses he “could not recall exactly when they began losing what they had gained, when the land began feeding upon them…”
The novel underscores the individual cost of joining the revolution. The existential crisis of the indio who thinks God must be on the side of the Castila because “all images of saints resemble them.” How helping the cause means losing livelihood, how freeing the country from tyranny means turning one’s back to God and dooming one’s soul to Hell.
Many horrific things to witness, but the juxtaposition of brutal things happening with the beautiful terrain and landscape gets me every time. I also love the river motif flowing all throughout the narrative. The beautiful passages about the Pasig River and the Rio Grande de Pampanga will stay with me. I’ve not grown up near any rivers, and I don’t necessarily understand their might, but after this novel, I have a newfound awe and respect toward our rivers. I will never look at the Pasig River the same way again.
I did find myself tripping on the prose at some parts. More than once, I reread passages to understand what was happening. And I still can’t decide if that’s on the text or me. (Probably on me.)
The ending scene is perhaps the bleakest part of the book. One I'm still recovering from. But what I appreciate is the book does not moralize. It does not try to pass judgment. It's just telling the story for what it is, and holds a mirror to the reader. I am furious at that ending, but I would have done the same. I would have probably just watched, too, horrified but unable to move as horrific things were being done to my fellow men out of self-preservation. And there's a lot to reflect on.
The Three-Cornered Sun “explores how the revolution was itself a confrontation between Filipinos,” Manuel Quezon III wrote in his foreword for this new edition of the book. And I couldn’t have worded it better. We know dates and battlegrounds, and we probably hold opinions on Bonifacio, Aguinaldo and Rizal, but the novel weaves a tapestry of textures, layers and humanity into the history we Filipinos think we already know well.
I’m definitely on the hunt for other works written by Linda Ty-Casper. This historical fiction is just so well done.
Thank you to Exploding Galaxies for gifting me a copy of this book. I’m excited to see what hidden gems the press will unearth next for the Filipino reader to rediscover.
May 23, 2024
This historical fiction provides readers a perspective of how must it be like for families during the Philippine revolution against Spain. That there are those who support it, while other family members oppose it. I would not have known about this book if not for Exploding Galaxies republishing it. This read needs new audience so we don't forget.
March 30, 2024
“A nation without a soul should not be defended.”
It is often said of the two sexes that men tend to focus on airy ideals while women dwell on the practical, earthy details that make up daily life. I can very much believe this to be the case with this historical novel written by a Harvard-educated Filipina such as Linda Ty-Casper. She benefited from the extraordinary wealth of detail of someone who read and listened to primary sources, which the author did with her grandmother (the book is dedicated to her).
"Gabriela Paez Viardo De Valesquez (1871-1953) whose memory of the Revolution of 1896 is the touchstone of this novel in which characters of fiction reenact history, the main protagonist."
The dedication matters because of the name: Viardo, and because of the acknowledgement that the protagonist is not a character, but history itself.
To read of history in textbooks is to see it as a smooth flow of cause-and-effect, focusing on heroes so far removed from the mortal coil, they seem more saint and half-god than human. Yet in our hearts we know it could not have been thus, which makes this 21st century reader grateful for the unique value of this novel.
The novel’s protagonists, apart from History, are the different members of the Viardo family. All fall under the shadow of the Revolution, though in different ways. What Linda Ty-Casper does so well is spell out the stakes for each type of Filipino, depending on his pre-Revolution station, and what he stands to gain or lose.
Familiarity with actual historical events is a given for the reader, as the author assumes we know the basic timeline of the War for Independence. But reading this book makes one realize that acing a history exam full of dates is nothing compared to the realization of the absolute chaos of the times, when Filipinos dared to rise against Spanish priests and rulers because of the ideals spread by three priests (Gomburza), a doctor who penned subversive thoughts (Jose Rizal), and a leader of a secret society who dared raise his bolo for freedom (Andres Bonifacio).
Linda Ty-Casper shows how the events transpired slowly, and so messily. “Glory” is the last word one will think of the revolution, after reading this book. The confusion of being swept along the tides of passion on both sides, the ugliness of human nature shown in the selfish who focus on self-aggrandizement and comfort above every loyalty, is portrayed in absolutely horrible scenes written in so simple language that it adds to the realism, and therefore, to the horror.
Anecdotes fill the pages, so full of detail they resonate as true, so oddly specific that one believes they could not have been made up.
There is the mother, one of many who join the hordes of humanity fleeing the Spanish cavalry, whose baby is shot and carries her still despite being told to let go.
There is the indio who asks if God is on the side of the Kastila because “all images of saints resemble them,” revealing “the reason many hesitated in the beginning, why those who finally joined the revolution thought they had condemned themselves in trying to save the country.”
Then there is the eagerness with which many Katipuneros embraced the amnesty of 1897 because it meant sleeping on dry ground, instead of awaiting capture or death in the pouring rain.
One scene that stood out for this reader featured the war photographer who interrupted a Kastila about to kill a Katipunero, calling out the ideal poses so he could better capture “the instant of death.” Unsatisfied with this slaughter by bayonet, he drags a corpse onto a banca for a long shot, then starts a cleansing fire so he can take a prize-worthy, dramatic photo.
Even the most Rizal-like character, Simeon, is portrayed realistically, with all too human frailty. For what good are ideals if one is unable to physically fight for them?
Perhaps the most heartbreaking thing about the novel is its end. I thought I would last the entire book without crying, but the ending broke something in me, and proves that Linda Ty-Casper is no romantic idealist. With echoes of Elias and Ibarra, but written more realistically, the author shows who is most worthy of contempt: those who choose to do nothing.
“On either side people stopped to watch, surprised that with the revolution over, someone would still try to be killed in it. Cristobal beseeched his mother’s house for help. All merely looked back, as if it did not matter what happened to one more.”
At the end, Linda Ty-Casper shows that the Revolution is intensely personal, as is salvation for every Filipino/a. Reading this book not only places us squarely in the times, but makes us examine our deepest selves and question what would we have done, had we lived through this darkness?
It is often said of the two sexes that men tend to focus on airy ideals while women dwell on the practical, earthy details that make up daily life. I can very much believe this to be the case with this historical novel written by a Harvard-educated Filipina such as Linda Ty-Casper. She benefited from the extraordinary wealth of detail of someone who read and listened to primary sources, which the author did with her grandmother (the book is dedicated to her).
"Gabriela Paez Viardo De Valesquez (1871-1953) whose memory of the Revolution of 1896 is the touchstone of this novel in which characters of fiction reenact history, the main protagonist."
The dedication matters because of the name: Viardo, and because of the acknowledgement that the protagonist is not a character, but history itself.
To read of history in textbooks is to see it as a smooth flow of cause-and-effect, focusing on heroes so far removed from the mortal coil, they seem more saint and half-god than human. Yet in our hearts we know it could not have been thus, which makes this 21st century reader grateful for the unique value of this novel.
The novel’s protagonists, apart from History, are the different members of the Viardo family. All fall under the shadow of the Revolution, though in different ways. What Linda Ty-Casper does so well is spell out the stakes for each type of Filipino, depending on his pre-Revolution station, and what he stands to gain or lose.
Familiarity with actual historical events is a given for the reader, as the author assumes we know the basic timeline of the War for Independence. But reading this book makes one realize that acing a history exam full of dates is nothing compared to the realization of the absolute chaos of the times, when Filipinos dared to rise against Spanish priests and rulers because of the ideals spread by three priests (Gomburza), a doctor who penned subversive thoughts (Jose Rizal), and a leader of a secret society who dared raise his bolo for freedom (Andres Bonifacio).
Linda Ty-Casper shows how the events transpired slowly, and so messily. “Glory” is the last word one will think of the revolution, after reading this book. The confusion of being swept along the tides of passion on both sides, the ugliness of human nature shown in the selfish who focus on self-aggrandizement and comfort above every loyalty, is portrayed in absolutely horrible scenes written in so simple language that it adds to the realism, and therefore, to the horror.
Anecdotes fill the pages, so full of detail they resonate as true, so oddly specific that one believes they could not have been made up.
There is the mother, one of many who join the hordes of humanity fleeing the Spanish cavalry, whose baby is shot and carries her still despite being told to let go.
There is the indio who asks if God is on the side of the Kastila because “all images of saints resemble them,” revealing “the reason many hesitated in the beginning, why those who finally joined the revolution thought they had condemned themselves in trying to save the country.”
Then there is the eagerness with which many Katipuneros embraced the amnesty of 1897 because it meant sleeping on dry ground, instead of awaiting capture or death in the pouring rain.
One scene that stood out for this reader featured the war photographer who interrupted a Kastila about to kill a Katipunero, calling out the ideal poses so he could better capture “the instant of death.” Unsatisfied with this slaughter by bayonet, he drags a corpse onto a banca for a long shot, then starts a cleansing fire so he can take a prize-worthy, dramatic photo.
Even the most Rizal-like character, Simeon, is portrayed realistically, with all too human frailty. For what good are ideals if one is unable to physically fight for them?
Perhaps the most heartbreaking thing about the novel is its end. I thought I would last the entire book without crying, but the ending broke something in me, and proves that Linda Ty-Casper is no romantic idealist. With echoes of Elias and Ibarra, but written more realistically, the author shows who is most worthy of contempt: those who choose to do nothing.
“On either side people stopped to watch, surprised that with the revolution over, someone would still try to be killed in it. Cristobal beseeched his mother’s house for help. All merely looked back, as if it did not matter what happened to one more.”
At the end, Linda Ty-Casper shows that the Revolution is intensely personal, as is salvation for every Filipino/a. Reading this book not only places us squarely in the times, but makes us examine our deepest selves and question what would we have done, had we lived through this darkness?
November 2, 2025
Took me long enough. September and October have been difficult, and I've been reading this in bits and pieces on the train, in bed while I struggle to keep awake on busy weeknights, in the parking lot of a construction site, waiting to hear back from my boss on questions to ask the foreman while the work continues on the gallery.
Perhaps I should be a bit kinder to myself - it took me about the same amount of time to finish the much shorter Ten Thousand Seeds, after all. Linda Ty-Casper's prose is dense and meaty, and the stories she tells are heavy with the research she puts into them, the history I know from textbooks and morning lectures always demanding recall as they happen through the story. One example: I didn't realize the revolution had already broken out while Rizal was alive. I always thought that the first battle in Pinaglabanan was a consequence of Rizal's execution.
I'd say that this (belated and disappointing) realization should count as a success in the author's project of informing the reader of the history of this period through fiction. I don't know if I have anything else to say. It was a good story.
Perhaps I should be a bit kinder to myself - it took me about the same amount of time to finish the much shorter Ten Thousand Seeds, after all. Linda Ty-Casper's prose is dense and meaty, and the stories she tells are heavy with the research she puts into them, the history I know from textbooks and morning lectures always demanding recall as they happen through the story. One example: I didn't realize the revolution had already broken out while Rizal was alive. I always thought that the first battle in Pinaglabanan was a consequence of Rizal's execution.
I'd say that this (belated and disappointing) realization should count as a success in the author's project of informing the reader of the history of this period through fiction. I don't know if I have anything else to say. It was a good story.
September 1, 2025
While some parts of this were gripping, especially the scenes with Cristobal in battle and the atrocities committed by the Spanish, a lot of it felt half-baked and contrived.
Though Ty-Casper drew from her grandmother's stories and experiences, I never felt transported to 1890's revolutionary Philippines. Every time a character or setting would start to feel established, the scene would shift and I would have to readjust my perspective as a reader.
The writing just did not captivate me enough.
Though Ty-Casper drew from her grandmother's stories and experiences, I never felt transported to 1890's revolutionary Philippines. Every time a character or setting would start to feel established, the scene would shift and I would have to readjust my perspective as a reader.
The writing just did not captivate me enough.
May 26, 2024
A powerful novel, now reprinted thanks to Exploding Galaxies, that illustrates so well the divisions war can and does cause within, not only communities but within families. I have seen up close these same divisions caused in Bosnia and Croatia where I worked with refugees during the war there. So this novel is very real for me. It is a painful lesson on the destructive power of conflict. This novel should be mandatory reading in schools.
October 26, 2024
attended the launch party last march and bought both nolledo and ty-casper. these are beautiful editions and works of literature i’m glad we didn’t lose to time.
looking forward to future publications of exploding galaxies!
looking forward to future publications of exploding galaxies!
January 11, 2026
Full thoughts about it in my 2025 Reading Wrap-up below!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wtRA...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7wtRA...
December 5, 2024
Loved the multiple POVs and family conflicts on opposing sides. Parts of this story happening today still in my country.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews