Amigo Warfare

by Eric Gamalinda

Eric Gamalinda's Amigo Warfare is a stunning meditation on identity and the ways we connect with ourselves, with each other, and with the world: Grief is a nation of everyone a country without borders. Gamalinda's voice soars and swoops through dazzling, heartbreaking language, offering comfort amid the grief we all share. In Gamalinda's poems, we are all alone, together.

Genres: Poetry

88 pages, Paperback

First published March 1, 2007

About the author

Born and raised in Manila, Eric Gamalinda first published in the Philippines four novels: Planet Waves, Confessions of a Volcano, Empire of Memory, and My Sad Republic; a short story collection, Peripheral Vision; and a collection of poems, Lyrics from a Dead Language. All were written and published in the last decade of the twentieth century to literary acclaim and recognized with National Book Awards and the Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards many times over, on top of his nonfiction and plays. His fifth novel, The Descartes Highlands, was shortlisted for the Man Asian Prize. His other US publications include the poetry collections Zero Gravity, winner of the Asian American Literary Prize, and Amigo Warfare; and a short story collection, People are Strange.

Reviews

[Edita · Rating 5 out of 5]

All told, not absence but memory
takes what it can,
and we pay our debts
by remembering completely.
*
I asked someone
for directions to the end of the world and he said,
Keep going till you can’t.
*
If I could sum up
all that I’ve learned, here it is: Everything
eats everything. There is no escape. Galaxies graze
in endless space and outside of that who knows?
At some junction dappled with the residue
of stars, maybe you’ll find yourself as you were
a gigabyte ago. A quasar of desire. Your heart
as mortal as a bird. And when you speak
your voice forms a nest of trebuchets around you.
*
I will endure this stillness,
the smoldering hours that continue
to erase me, as though by my birth
I have broken a pact, that I remain
invisible and small.
So I carry everything with me,
though it’s almost over, though I’m tired
of being strong. I leave nothing
for grief to feed on.
[...] Not even love, whose October grows ever more faint
in yours.
*
What’s tragic is not that
this journey ends, but that we once walked
through such possibilities.

[Jean Louise | bookloure · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 // When we talk about diaspora voices, these are the kinds of voices I want to hear. When I read very popular diaspora poets like Ocean Vuong, these are the kinds of poems I wish I'm reading. More than grappling with identity and one's place in the world, I wish more diaspora voices have this angst against empire.

[Inverted · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wasn't really happy with the first half, but the rest killed it with so much grace. Something primitive was in a lot of the latter poems, something fascinating. Except those three arrow poems (Abell 2218), which were just a sore to look at. Still, I look forward to reading his earlier collections.

[Richard · Rating 4 out of 5]

Two-thirds amazing one-third where am I

[june · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

"I’ve used you for my pleasure, comrade, you have satiated me. I’ll wait for you."

"It’s possible that the body
desires in order to need, and absence is
what’s truly craven by the soul. (5) Between fear
and tenderness, I choose self-defense."

"'I am afraid of the profound certitude of things' // Love like an arsonist / steals into my life and burns down all my tenement"

"Our bodies, near like this, / are so mystical no spook can decode / this fractal of grace..."

[Andrew Squitiro · Rating 5 out of 5]

Underrated poet. The work in here is unlike anything I've read in a while. From the 90s, but the verse seems similar to today's way of speaking. Existential, in the manner of Kristeva or Derrida, yet worldly in a way no academic can imitate. I liked these. Heady and beautiful, the love poems especially.

[ahlybunny ♡ · Rating 3 out of 5]

lots of cultural diff (westernized, imo talaga) which creates a barrier of relatability. first half was almost full of question marks pero nahabol (karamihan) ng latter part, tho personally! it took me a lot of time to push through this collection n so ive forgotten my liked poems on this one hehe. maybe i rlly am not the target audience :)

[ven · Rating 3 out of 5]

"I hope you never get tired of waiting for the world to come to its senses."

3.5

[d · Rating 4 out of 5]

Grief is a nation of everyone, a country without borders.
I roam the avenues of it
out of habit. Summoned to testify
on everyone’s behalf, I’m sticking
to my story. It’s better not to talk
about the wounded, or the moist remains of the disappeared. But there’s always one who can tell, in the packed
amplitude of crowds.
We are so many bodies, my friends. We all move in the same direction. As though someone had a plan.

Memory is weightless, but it feeds on the massive space
it inhabits

So I carry everything with me,
though it’s almost over, though I’m tired
of being strong. I leave nothing
for grief to feed on.
Not my mother’s young sorrow, my sisters’ life
54

of water, my father’s solitude,
my brothers’ cities occupied and broken.
Not these words, though they weigh me down.
Not the mirrors of the moon, be they false oceans, all
illusion.
Not even love, whose October grows ever more faint
in yours.

To begin this small, to know
one life alone completes the world.
Until the sun cuts through the waves, until the planets dwindle and hold still, and love rips us open
and another million years begin.

And if I couldn’t stop the sun from sinking with the weight of its gold, I deny any part
in all this beauty: for all this providence
my words are late apologies, a fistful of roses.

I am glad to share this lifetime with you,
there is no other planet where the cultivation of souls is possible, none that we know of;
may the happiness of others protect you,
may you find the flashing exit signs
at the turnpikes of suffering
and a coin to buy your way out of hell.


I put this review off for too long (literally a month) so, unfortunately, I cannot remember the majority of it, I am just left with the surface and subconscious impressions. I like Zero Gravity far more just out of preference for more angelic imagery, as Amigo Warfare is a lot more crass, sexual, and gritty Americana. This is overall, though; similar themes of divine terror still run through it and there is a more grounded approach to grief in terms of its ugliness. This, however, deserves an award for Yellow Tang alone. It is one of my favorite poems of all time and the reason I got into Gamalinda.

Favorites: Self-Portrait in Hell, The Map of Light, Yellow Tang

[ebag · Rating 3 out of 5]

half of the year spent on and off through this collection.

[Amiel Subingsubing · Rating 5 out of 5]

"go home wounded
you will forgive
what is most difficult to forgive
then nothing more
will need your words."

From #846

[Meeko · Rating 5 out of 5]

such a good read i really took my time reading it (hehe 👀)