When the World Ended I Was Thinking about the Forest

by Glenn Diaz

Genres: Nonfiction, Essays

64 pages, Paperback

Published January 1, 2022

About the author

Glenn Diaz’s first book THE QUIET ONES (Ateneo Press) won the Palanca Grand Prize and Philippine National Book Award. His second novel YÑIGA was a finalist for the 2020 Novel Prize. He holds a PhD in creative writing from the University of Adelaide. He lives in Manila.

Reviews

[Kubi]

I'll probably be thinking about Glenn Diaz's When the World Ended I Was Thinking About the Forest for a while. While reading, I felt giddy, got emotional, and thought Dr. Ed Gomez, coral reef man and fervent tree enthusiast, would have really liked it. The essay is dense with ideas and information, drawing from literary, historical, and legal texts to create an understanding of the forest as a space that bears the trauma of hegemony; a space that is itself exploited while being a site for/ witness of oppression; but also a space where dissent and rebellion can flourish. Having become hypervigilant about forests, Glenn comments how "[they] are everywhere but unseen" in Rizal's Noli and Fili, but it's just as well in our cities. Manila (~Maynila) is named for the mangrove nilad (/Scyphiphora hydrophyllacea/) which once extensively lined the coasts of Manila Bay but have virtually vanished. In Emergency by Daisy Hildyard, the narrator as a child has a momentary vision of trees in cleared forest and wonders if plants can have ghosts. Glenn writes that the forest does harbor "spectres, from the spirits of doomed lovers to the debris of a vanishing Indigenous worldview," that it is haunted by "the unfinished trauma of empire and colonization, sublimated by a deepening experience of globality." There is also a sense of its being naturally apart from linear time and, thus potentially, from the march of capitalism and "progress." The forest and its "excess meanings," its mystical/ spiritual facilities, are largely unknowable but essential to our very soul as a people. Glenn writes from within the pandemic; he attends webinars with other writers in different time zones, he suffers through the bureaucracy of getting admitted to a hospital, then later, vaccinated. But nothing places this work most squarely in our present than Glenn's notes to/ memories of an old lover, the longing but also acceptance mirroring what we all feel for the time Before. I can't wait for the full-length book.

[Shin · Rating 4 out of 5]

i like to veer away from pandemic-adjacent literature as much as possible, these anthologies, webinars, short films, etc. as i find them mostly reductive and unnecessary. but this small grand study by #GlennDiaz is an exception.

#WhenTheWorldEndedIWasThinkingAboutTheForest is a personal love/break-up letter foregrounding the forest as a concept as much as a victim of centuries-long Western capitalism, as a literary motif, and an important symbol of native Filipino identity.

it seems like an overwhelming topic to cover, but i think Glenn had done pretty well for the amount of time he'd worked on this. he cites both contemporary media and historical accounts in celebrating and mourning forests, its significances superficially forgotten but perhaps embedded in our DNA. the affective sentiments ground the work into an ode to a valued memory than a research paper, and i enjoyed that aspect so much as Research stresses me out.

i have always felt something is off with the idea that progress = more cities. Glenn harbors the same disappointment i feel when a tree in the neighborhood is cut off to be replaced with car parking or a sari-sari store. i have always had a fantasy of moving out of these towns to live in a kind of hut or a tree house up in the hills nearby here in Laguna (also some accounts in the book are set Los Baños which made me feel Represented lol), and the insights here validated that feeling. we think 'development' means transforming nature into something else, here it is identified as degradation, and i agree.

i was surprised when the book was cut short, turns out the rest of the pages were bibliography. i am thrilled that Glenn promises that this is a work in progress and that he's working on a novel of perhaps similar concerns.

this review hardly covers the amount of insight spanning the dense fifty pages. read the book!

[Miguel · Rating 3 out of 5]

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with the concept of disappearing. I associate it with the desire to return to simpler times due to the general fatigue of living a fast life. My mom more or less shares the same sentiments, but what she really wants is to retire in a quaint forest. I’ve always imagined the forest as an escape (an unattainable one because it’s all urban here). Or an event for when you go on a nature trip with friends. There’s so much history and information about forests and forest-adjacent things in this book that I didn’t ask for but gladly received. In other words, I'm enlightened.

[Maria Ella · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 Stars. That half-star deduction is me finding this very small book to be a difficult read, with citations and all. Glenn knows my inputs about this red book, as it somehow traverses in my social media stories and hormonal tweets, and yet, he still doesn't answer one of my questions in mind. Haha.

I'll need to jot down my sentiments first before write a review, because I have so many things in my plate at the moment; I wasn't supposedly think too much (as I need to prepare myself for an ASEAN travel).

Pagbalik ko na lang siguro.

[Don Jaucian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Saktong may short trail run kami sa La Mesa Nature Reserve last week nung binabasa ko itong libro ni Glenn Diaz. Iniisip ko lagi yung title nya, “WHEN THE WORLD ENDED I WAS THINKING ABOUT THE FOREST,” kasi ang perfect as a response to the chaos that is the pandemic (present tense kasi meron pa), kasi ang gulo ng mundo nung early days ng pandemic gusto mo na lang mamundok at takbuhan ang estado (which is sort of discussed in the book by way of the self-sufficiency of the Igorots). May kinalaman yung WHEN THE WORLD ENDED sa research about Glenn’s second novel — I THINK, bilang nabanggit niya tungkol sa forests yung second novel niya.

Ang fascinating how the whole book radiates from one simple thing and into the forest, pati sa ibang aspects na din ng buhay ni Glenn (actually as a bakla, ang interes ko ay andun sa parts where Glenn was writing to/about an ex haha). Kahit ultimo yung pagpunta nya sa ospital naka-connect sa bureaucracy and colonialism na sumira sa mga kakahuyan natin. Part ba ito ng writer’s mind na naka-zero in sa pagsusulat ng tema ng kanyang nobela? Parang multo ng ex na “everything reminds me of him.” Lols

Someone (cute) pointed out na similar sila ng structure ng Bluets and hindi ko narealize yon until then. Masama ma na inisip ko syang footnotes sa isang journal? Or ito na mismo yung journal (maybe even a letter) kasi may footnotes na siya (where it seems Glenn is talking to himself).

Nakatapos din ako ng halos 7km dun sa trail run. Maraming beses akong nagisip na huminto para kunan ng picture itong libro ni Glenn (nabasa nga sya sa bag ko kasi andun yung tubig, pabili ulit @papertraillprojects) pero a) olats mawalan ng momentum habang tumatakbo, and b) parang nakakaistorbo sa gubat (kung matatawag ngang gubat yung reserve). Ni hindi nga ako nakinig ng music habang tumatakbo. Sa dulo ko na lang to kinunan, malapit sa pasukan mismo. Sa libro, may tanong tungkol sa iba’t-ibang meaning ng gubat. Sa itsura ng La Mesa, na halos pocket lang, mas gusto kong isipin na ang lungsod pa ang istorbo. Nakakawala ng ulirat pag nasa gubat ka. Parang ang primal. Pero baka pagro-romanticize ko lang ito.

[jervie jc ☻ · Rating 4 out of 5]

31. when it dies they too will perish

[Pia · Rating 5 out of 5]

I.
All RRL is personal, made from various combinations of frustration, panic, interest and love. But this one drops pretenses of detachment and goes full-vulnerable. Complete with an extensive bibliography (¼ pagcount of the text body itself)! Glenn Diaz’s RRL is fun to read because this time around, a disgruntled and passionate academic had freedom to adopt a candid and explicitly personal writing voice.

By intellectual measures, it’s a good RRL:

• It synthesizes the material, suited to the needs of the project it serves;
• In the synthesis, it challenges the ideas posed by the literature, challenging even those texts whose writer he admires;
•(and to my satisfaction, he calls out the ones he hates)

The severity of fixation (or rigor, for those who transform interests into careers) is evident in the variety of sources. Great canon Filipino novels and unfinished obscure ones. Primary sources from long-dead American colonizers and contemporary farmer activist groups. Modern day cultural artifacts that would get cut if it was published anywhere but an indie publishing group—tweets.

Diaz is clever, articulate, and precise. He renders points beautifully, attuned to meaningful frames. The poetry is not in melodic vocabulary but more so the distillation of meaning found in moments.

This is RRL, but a journey is in here, if you just examine where the two characters' feet take them.

The emotional throughline of this is Diaz remembering a love. The unnamed partner (assumed romantic, decidedly past-tense) floats in and out of the story. But I wouldn’t call it interruptions, as Diaz finds that meanings overlap between his academic interest, the forest, with his own past.

This gives the book an anchor to hold onto:
One that’s evocative of familiar emotions, the tinkling of romance,
A kilometer zero in this sheaf-sized document of historical trauma

II.
A practice in the framework of dialectical materialism, Glenn Diaz frames the history of Philippine forests through contradiction. In When the World Ended, I was Thinking About the Forest the two sides of the contradiction identified are: (1) the pillaging of Spanish colonialism, replaced by the even-worse American imperialism, versus (2) Filipinos and the forest.

Spanish colonization and American imperialism are the antagonistic forces of this novel. But considering Spanish colonization’s brazenness and the effective American reeducation campaigns, Glenn Diaz lays down more about the material, physical, tangible violence that American imperialism’s agents have wrought (300,000 dead, 11 million wooded hectares destroyed) on the forests and the people of the Philippines. Diaz’s Padre Damaso (as in character whose function is “the enemy’s worst parts combined”) is zoologist, racist and bureaucrat Dean Worcester, whose two hydra heads are racism and ecological plunder.

With this exposition, he establishes that the supposed benevolence of American support for the sciences is just, in fact, an empire counting its gold. Systemizing and structuring their markets in service of capital. Facets of imperialist plunder that suggested otherwise are still just extensions of imperialism, obfuscated by rhetoric and minimized by Filipino intellectuals swayed by limited brushes with abundance.

This isn’t capitalism. This is worse. This is imperialism. The economic heights of hyper-capitalist countries are existentially linked to the subjugation and exploitation of other resource-rich countries.

The point being, you cannot reconcile imperialism with national interest.

III.
In my undergrad, I was the chairperson of a student organization with anti-imperialist aims (in my time, against both the US and China). Glenn Diaz’s disclosure of having a Marxist orientation and subsequently writing Marxist standpoints are not only not challenging to me, they are already my own.

But even knowing what I did, the anecdotes in Diaz’s book are still new to me.

It’s not surprising, but it is still horrifying.

At the worst moments explained in the book, Heat rose to my face, tears welled in my eyes, my heart hammered in my chest. I was angry and didn’t know what to do about it.

There’s so many more dimensions to When the World Ended, I was Thinking About the Forest—like the way Diaz examined other literature, the implications of his thematic analysis’ focus, the rhetoric of science vis-a-vis imperialism, etc. But after reading, I can’t remember anything else except the fact that how much America devastated this country, and how little we are taught of it.

I would recommend that people read this. Even if you are unswayed to the side of leninism by 300,000 dead bodies, you will be able to take away quite a lot from this book.

Perhaps your mind will stick more with the theory of literary “realism” being an outgrowth of colonialism and reactionary essences. Maybe you’ll be refreshed by the interrogation of the violence baked into the rhetoric of trees only having value as far as they can be transformed into goods and then profit, rather than as what they are by themselves, or as far as they exist in proximity to human history, rather than as what they are on their own. Or you may be tickled to find in this book a substantiated, composed counter to the increasingly popular sentiment of “to be known is to be loved”. Me, uhm, this book provoked an anger in me long dormant, long smoldered. And I’m not even mad about it, because this book was so well-written that to make me uncomfortable again feels well deserved.

[John · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the Acknowledgments section, Glenn Diaz said that this is a work in progress. In fact, the book is written in numbered vignettes and essays, as if an actual draft of ideas for a much larger project, as if individual trees creating a forest. However, When the World Ended I was Thinking About the Forest still felt complete and easily stood on its own, with rigorous research done by Diaz, heavily citing various related literature, while still incorporating his scathing thoughts on the subjects and also his deeply personal affection to forests, history, and to people. This is an impressive feat as it is.

Diaz's works are always so fascinating to read for its comprehensiveness and erudition. Through an extensive bibliography, he talked about forests—literal and figurative; objects and metaphors. Making up for most of the book was his heavy discussion of forests as much as the silent and helpless victims of the Western colonialism and capitalism as the people it shielded and aided from that very same atrocities and how these continue to perpetuate on the modern-day. He also talked about how forests were referenced and used as literary motifs across diverse works of literature, from Dante to Rizal, making these usually sturdy, quiet ones alive with pulsating mystery and purpose—an essential part of the tale. And lastly, he told a story about him and a past lover and how the idea of forests, a fondness of which they both shared, became an important part of their relationship. In a breathtakingly intimate turn, Diaz even wrote: “I think what I'm trying to do is turn the uncertainty into a clearing; the terror, into a project. (A kaingin.)”

Despite its brevity (less than 50 pages), When the World Ended I was Thinking about the Forest is lushly dense with ideas, all so engrossing. This is a work to think about right until after its eventual completion.

[Jodesz Gavilan · Rating 5 out of 5]

"To survive, I had to turn you into a ghost. I have no choice.... I think what I'm trying to do is turn the uncertainty into a clearing; the terror, into a project."

Glenn Diaz's WHEN THE WORLD ENDED I WAS THINKING ABOUT THE FOREST is a feat that transcends whatever expectations you have about the form and the topic. It left me in awe of the many possibilities that Diaz not only achieved, but thrived in.

Diaz talks about forests in its purest form, then contextualizing it in Philippine history, never forgetting the cruelty brought about by American colonialization and imperialism, as well as modern capitalism. How forests are witness to the most personal and most political, and often both at the same time. I love how wide ranging the sources cited throughout the work, a testament to the effort to ground the complex topic. Diaz opens with Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, then peppered the prose with excerpts from James Scott's The Art of Not Being Governed, the occasional Benedict Anderson, and then there's a shoutout to drag queen Katya Zamolodchikova, among others.

You might think one could get whiplash from reading all the works of other people, like an RRL from one's traumatic universiry thesis days, but honesty everything works out in the end. I mean, I'm talking as someone who loves context, who loves knowing what others have thought about the issue or topic I'm reading on, who practically devotes three to four paragraphs of context in the articles I write for work. This is because I know the importance of the works that came before mine, and their invaluable contribution to the topic that I'm dissecting. For Diaz, maybe it's a testament that he's not weird for thinking about the forest, because others have done so also in the past.

But it's not all about RRL. This work is at its best when Diaz becomes more personal. The most intimate of prose surprises you in between reading about forests in the context of Philippine history and US colonization, and then you will just suddenly feel like you just got punched in the throat. One moment Glenn is talking about the horrors forests witness over the years, and then suddenly transport you into a setting that's all too familiar. The longing, yearning, the in-betweens. I believe it's a necessary feeling, though, and that I love how Diaz treated it this way. I guess it's his effort to drive down the point that we cannot separate our personal lives from that of our environment, of our surroundings, of the forests that play a part in our lives, may it be literally or figuratively.

I told Diaz about this immediately after finishing his book, that it reminded me of Maggie Nelson's Bluets if it was less introspective. Diaz's take is more radical and tempered in it exploration of forests and memories. It thrives in knowing the limits of one's own consciousness, of acknowledging the frailty of remembering. Restraint shows itself at the most vital moments. And that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

This is the second work I've consumed from Glenn Diaz (his chaotic Twitter doesn't count), and I'm reminded again why he's really one of my favorite Filipino authors. I guess I'll forever be thinking of him thinking of the forest when the world ended.

Or maybe I should find my own "forest" too.

[Ivan Labayne · Rating 4 out of 5]

https://chopsueyngarod.wordpress.com/...

How did Glenn start it, “Like Dante when Inferno opens, 35 years old, ‘in the middle of the journey of our life, and face to face with ‘una selva oscura’ (When the World Ended, I Was Thinking About the Forest, 1). An opening within an opening. Also, a HAHA moment, my Spanish 101 teacher chastising me: I though “selva” is… “self.” A search engine says it’s a forest, a jungle.

[Zymon · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have a feeling that this book was meant to be read by one person only, as evidenced by the occasional “you.” As a tsismosa, I however enjoy the vulnerability demonstrated here. (I might have enjoyed it much more than the musings about the forest.)

I have nothing else to say about this book aside from the fact that its title reminds me of Lana Del Rey’s song When the World Was at War We Kept Dancing.

[Meeko · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book is informative, well-researched. I love how the author relates the forest to a lot of different things that I didn’t know possible. My favorite bits are the ones addressed to the author’s ex. It somehow gave an insight to his personal life and as a reader, I felt like in some little way, I got to know him.

In short, wow, Glenn Diaz really thought about the forest.

[Ed · Rating 5 out of 5]

hindi na rin siguro maiiwasang hindi isipin ang gubat pagkatapos nito.

[june · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5

“33. i think what im trying to do is turn the uncertainty into a clearing”