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Killing Time in a Warm Place
KILLING TIME IN A WARM PLACE is a novel of growing up in the Philippines during the Marcos years. Told in the voice of its protagonist, Noel Ilustre Bulaong, the narrative travels through familiar social and literary territory: the coconut groves of Bulaong's childhood, Manila's hovels, the Diliman Commune, "UG" safehouse, martial law prisons, and the homes and offices of the petty-bourgeoisie. It is a story of false horizons, of betrayal, compromise, and guilt, and not incidentally of the contemporary middle-class Filipino's migration from the village to the metropolis to the outside world.
193 pages, Newsprint
First published January 1, 1992
About the author
Jose Y. Dalisay, Jr.
48 books72 followersDr. José Y. Dalisay Jr. (Butch Dalisay to readers of his "Penman" column in the Philippine STAR) was born in Romblon, Philippines in 1954.
As of January 2006, he had published 15 books of his stories, plays, and essays, with five of those books receiving the National Book Award from the Manila Critics Circle. In 1998, he was named to the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) Centennial Honors List for his work as a playwright and fictionist.
He graduated from the University of the Philippines in 1984 (AB English, cum laude ), the University of Michigan (MFA, 1988) and the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee (PhD English, 1991). He teaches English and Creative Writing as a full professor at the University of the Philippines, where he also serves as coordinator of the creative writing program and as an Associate of the UP Institute of Creative Writing. After serving as chairman of the English Department, he became Vice President for Public Affairs of the UP System from May 2003 to February 2005.
Among his distinctions, he has won 16 Palanca Awards in five genres (entering the Palanca Hall of Fame in 2000), five Cultural Center of the Philippines awards for playwriting, and Famas, Urian, Star and Catholic Film awards and citations for his screenplays. He was named one of The Outstanding Young Men (TOYM) of 1993 for his creative writing. He has been a Fulbright, Hawthornden, David TK Wong, Rockefeller, and British Council fellow.
As of January 2006, he had published 15 books of his stories, plays, and essays, with five of those books receiving the National Book Award from the Manila Critics Circle. In 1998, he was named to the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) Centennial Honors List for his work as a playwright and fictionist.
He graduated from the University of the Philippines in 1984 (AB English, cum laude ), the University of Michigan (MFA, 1988) and the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee (PhD English, 1991). He teaches English and Creative Writing as a full professor at the University of the Philippines, where he also serves as coordinator of the creative writing program and as an Associate of the UP Institute of Creative Writing. After serving as chairman of the English Department, he became Vice President for Public Affairs of the UP System from May 2003 to February 2005.
Among his distinctions, he has won 16 Palanca Awards in five genres (entering the Palanca Hall of Fame in 2000), five Cultural Center of the Philippines awards for playwriting, and Famas, Urian, Star and Catholic Film awards and citations for his screenplays. He was named one of The Outstanding Young Men (TOYM) of 1993 for his creative writing. He has been a Fulbright, Hawthornden, David TK Wong, Rockefeller, and British Council fellow.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 34 reviews
May 4, 2012
I have a pair black formal Cole Haan shoes that I bought in November 2009 and I am still to wear it. It is my most expensive pair of shoes. I bought it at one of the classy stores in San Diego with my brother whose been in the US for 30 years now. Prior to our shopping, I told my brother that I only wanted my standard casual black shoes with shoelaces that I could wear in the office. He said why not get something that was trendy, something that I had not have yet. He showed me that Cole Haan worth $130. It is a mini-boots, dark brown, seamless, creaseless, beaming with semi-gloss and with zippers. Cool. It was over my budget but my brother seldom recommended anything to me. So, I bought it.
Why have I not been wearing it? I don't know. I have been to formal gatherings and it is not as flashy as those shoes that concert artists wear on stage. I think I am trying to hold on to it because it is a reminder of that most recent visit. Maybe I am missing my mother who reside in the same city. Or my brother. Or him and his family. Or maybe San Diego. Or even the US.
That pair of shoes is like this book, Killing Time in a Warm Place by Jose Y. Dalisay, Jr. The book is well-written and Dalisay is one of the newspaper columnists who I admire and get to read first whenever I get hold of our daily The Philippine Star. However, the book is about life during the Marcos Era specifically during Martial Law Years (1972-1983). Since I was born in 1964, President Marcos was the president during all of my schooling years. In school, whenever the teacher asked who was the President of the Philippines, I always answered, verbally or on paper, President Ferdinand E. Marcos.
What I am trying to say is that this book was like a bridge to my childhood. While reading, the story failed to engage me because I refused to cross back to that bridge. I felt that if I learned more about what happened, in the eyes of Dalisay who was persecuted by the military during that time, I would lose that link to the time that I was young and living with my whole family and my father was still alive, young and well. It was the same reason why I am still keeping the ice cream vendor bell that my father used to ring when he was lying on the bed, cancer-stricken, and he wanted to call any of us at home because he needed something.
Call me too sentimental but there are just books that for whatever reason, hit us when we read, right? After all, reading is a personal activity and we put not only our brain but also our heart into it. Maybe the other reason is that I have heard many stories, saw many movies, read many history books and newspapers (when I was growing up, I used to sell newspapers) about the Marcos so I guess I am desensitized already. So, reading the life story of Noel Ilustre Bulaong from the time when he was still a child watching the then rising political star Marcos to the time through the time that he was hiding as a political activist did not tell me anything new and that included the Nalundasan case where he as a young lawyer defended himself and he won. It is now considered as one of the landmark case in Philippine legal history.
Still the other probable reason why I felt not fully engaged while reading this book was that I grew up and had my first ten years of education in an island in the Pacific. We were far from the city so we did not feel anything except that there was a curfew at 8:00 p.m. so we all had to be home and sleeping or studying our lessons. Then when college came, I was sent by my parents to a city on top of the mountain and that region was one of the political bailiwicks of President Marcos so still, I did not experience any of my or my friends' rights curtailed or something.
But still I liked this book. It is a must read for young Filipinos who were born after 1972. It tells the real story because Dalisay was one of the victims of that regime and he writes so vividly you could feel the surroundings the characters are in. Dalisay takes time to describe his milieu and his use of flashback is not confusing. The transformation of characters was not as leapfrogging as I thought it should be but still the character of Noel went through a lot. If you are looking at how a prison cell transformed Ninoy Aquino or Nelson Mandela or e.e. Cummings, this pales into comparison but still you will feel the sincerity of the story since Dalisay did not to blow things out of proportion nor exaggerate things.
Although, I still liked this book, it just did not "talk" to me the way I wanted it to. Just like the expensive Cole Haan pair of shoes that I still have not worn after 3 long years. I love to look at it and I clean it every now and then but still I have no urge to put them on.
Why have I not been wearing it? I don't know. I have been to formal gatherings and it is not as flashy as those shoes that concert artists wear on stage. I think I am trying to hold on to it because it is a reminder of that most recent visit. Maybe I am missing my mother who reside in the same city. Or my brother. Or him and his family. Or maybe San Diego. Or even the US.
That pair of shoes is like this book, Killing Time in a Warm Place by Jose Y. Dalisay, Jr. The book is well-written and Dalisay is one of the newspaper columnists who I admire and get to read first whenever I get hold of our daily The Philippine Star. However, the book is about life during the Marcos Era specifically during Martial Law Years (1972-1983). Since I was born in 1964, President Marcos was the president during all of my schooling years. In school, whenever the teacher asked who was the President of the Philippines, I always answered, verbally or on paper, President Ferdinand E. Marcos.
What I am trying to say is that this book was like a bridge to my childhood. While reading, the story failed to engage me because I refused to cross back to that bridge. I felt that if I learned more about what happened, in the eyes of Dalisay who was persecuted by the military during that time, I would lose that link to the time that I was young and living with my whole family and my father was still alive, young and well. It was the same reason why I am still keeping the ice cream vendor bell that my father used to ring when he was lying on the bed, cancer-stricken, and he wanted to call any of us at home because he needed something.
Call me too sentimental but there are just books that for whatever reason, hit us when we read, right? After all, reading is a personal activity and we put not only our brain but also our heart into it. Maybe the other reason is that I have heard many stories, saw many movies, read many history books and newspapers (when I was growing up, I used to sell newspapers) about the Marcos so I guess I am desensitized already. So, reading the life story of Noel Ilustre Bulaong from the time when he was still a child watching the then rising political star Marcos to the time through the time that he was hiding as a political activist did not tell me anything new and that included the Nalundasan case where he as a young lawyer defended himself and he won. It is now considered as one of the landmark case in Philippine legal history.
Still the other probable reason why I felt not fully engaged while reading this book was that I grew up and had my first ten years of education in an island in the Pacific. We were far from the city so we did not feel anything except that there was a curfew at 8:00 p.m. so we all had to be home and sleeping or studying our lessons. Then when college came, I was sent by my parents to a city on top of the mountain and that region was one of the political bailiwicks of President Marcos so still, I did not experience any of my or my friends' rights curtailed or something.
But still I liked this book. It is a must read for young Filipinos who were born after 1972. It tells the real story because Dalisay was one of the victims of that regime and he writes so vividly you could feel the surroundings the characters are in. Dalisay takes time to describe his milieu and his use of flashback is not confusing. The transformation of characters was not as leapfrogging as I thought it should be but still the character of Noel went through a lot. If you are looking at how a prison cell transformed Ninoy Aquino or Nelson Mandela or e.e. Cummings, this pales into comparison but still you will feel the sincerity of the story since Dalisay did not to blow things out of proportion nor exaggerate things.
Although, I still liked this book, it just did not "talk" to me the way I wanted it to. Just like the expensive Cole Haan pair of shoes that I still have not worn after 3 long years. I love to look at it and I clean it every now and then but still I have no urge to put them on.
January 30, 2021
Noel Bulaong (con su exceso de vocales) vuelve de EEUU a Filipinas para los funerales de su padre.
En el vuelo, aparecen sus recuerdos de infancia, en la que participó de la fiesta popular por el triunfo de Ferdinando Marcos, hasta los de juventud en la cual participó de las acciones de los rebeldes comunistas contra el régimen, que para entonces se había convertido en una dictadura que llevaba a la población a la miseria.
La historia está salpicada de las dificultades de Noel y sus padres para encontrar su lugar frente a la realidad política. En otro contexto, saltar de ser un rebelde anti-americano a terminar haciendo un doctorado en EEUU, podría interpretarse como pecados de juventud o posterior aburguesamiento. No parece ser el caso de Noel para quien las cosas parece que simplemente van ocurriendo.
Un libro correcto, bien escrito, que describe en forma bastante verosímil la vida en Filipinas, aunque encuentro que le falta emoción en las relaciones humanas y no profundiza en los personajes.
Ferdinand Marcos (1917-1989) llegó a la presidencia de Filipinas en 1965 como héroe popular, y gradualmente su gobierno se transformó en un régimen corrupto, personalista y autocrático, durante gran parte del cual rigió la Ley Marcial que permitía las detenciones arbitrarias y asesinatos de críticos y opositores.
En el vuelo, aparecen sus recuerdos de infancia, en la que participó de la fiesta popular por el triunfo de Ferdinando Marcos, hasta los de juventud en la cual participó de las acciones de los rebeldes comunistas contra el régimen, que para entonces se había convertido en una dictadura que llevaba a la población a la miseria.
La historia está salpicada de las dificultades de Noel y sus padres para encontrar su lugar frente a la realidad política. En otro contexto, saltar de ser un rebelde anti-americano a terminar haciendo un doctorado en EEUU, podría interpretarse como pecados de juventud o posterior aburguesamiento. No parece ser el caso de Noel para quien las cosas parece que simplemente van ocurriendo.
Un libro correcto, bien escrito, que describe en forma bastante verosímil la vida en Filipinas, aunque encuentro que le falta emoción en las relaciones humanas y no profundiza en los personajes.
Ferdinand Marcos (1917-1989) llegó a la presidencia de Filipinas en 1965 como héroe popular, y gradualmente su gobierno se transformó en un régimen corrupto, personalista y autocrático, durante gran parte del cual rigió la Ley Marcial que permitía las detenciones arbitrarias y asesinatos de críticos y opositores.
May 12, 2026
Literature is the best place for the people we don’t hear about.
In Butch Dalisay’s Killing Time in A Warm Place, we follow Noel Ilustre Bulaong, a common type of activist—an inactive. ‘Inactive’ is what my people called those who stopped being part of the movement. After decades of existing, I’d say the National Democratic movement has more inactive activists than not.
Practically everyone else who joined up at the same time as I did, back in 2018, is now inactive. A lot of us were recruited at the same time, corralled by older tibaks into the AS Lobby after a mob against EJKs. Along with the literal things you learn, like RTR, comes learning a way of thinking, the kind that makes you use your vacant to go knocking on professors’ doors to give unsolicited speeches instead of resting. This goes even deeper in educational discussions, hours-long sessions about Marxist-Leninist-Maoist thought, where learning about the fundamentally oppressive nature of being in a semi-colonial semi-feudal state can create a sense of urgency so strong, a 2nd year UP student can declare going full-time organizer on the spot.
Older tibaks taught me things they couldn’t uphold for long, because they too went inactive.
The reality is, a UP student activist is more likely to stop participating in anything political after one year than carry on into the ‘highest form of struggle’. But you hardly hear about that.
Why? Well. It's hard to talk about. Your former collective might resent you (and a lot of them do). Leadership cares about recruitment, not retention. And no one in your normal life asks, not because your mom and high school barkada don't care, but because they are likely relieved you stopped and don't want to jinx it.
That’s why Killing Time in A Warm Place initially felt important to me. It seemed like it might finally allow that specific mode of being, the inactive activist, to exist openly, in all its thorny, shameful, relieving complexity. When Noel remembers the popular Kule challenge and responds honestly:
it was the first time I came face to face with the attitude of procrastination toward civic duty that most intellectuals have but don’t say out loud. It felt arresting because it's the ugly truth of how we go about principled sacrifice, which by popular wisdom seems hypocritical for learned people, but already clocked by Mao Zedong.
Unfortunately, the book only commits to being clear-eyed in the last 20 pages. For the preceding 100 pages, Killing Time in A Warm Place is a young writer's appetite for the grotesque, gross and glib—mistaking unpleasantness for depth, Butch Dalisay reached for sensory repulsion when the harder work of psychological excavation was called for.
Noel lives through the First Quarter Storm, the declaration of Martial Law, and EDSA I, narrating his four-person collective's misadventures like a comedy of errors, except Noel is dead serious.
When the book describes Noel’s team leader as out of his depth, it feels contemptuous. When the book dedicates one page to imagining up a poor old man as criminally inclined, and presents a disabling beat down as comeuppance afterwards, it becomes hateful. Both the city and the province fall under this light, whose images are their own particular ways of trash, chaos and shit.
What is spared from the narrator's mean-spirited derision is the West, the luxurious ceremony of high-ranking government work, and anything that signals refinement and elsewhere. Reading this novel is mostly an encounter with Filipino petite bourgeois elitism—of the Sarge Lacuesta stock—substituting real theme. The novel’s framing device reinforces this orientation. Noel narrates his life story to a white foreigner, his concerted translations dotting the text, as if the random American’s recognition would give coherence to his very messy, very Filipino experience.
The novel’s strongest recurring image is snow. Snow—shorthand for the Western, the refined, the elsewhere—punctuates Noel's retelling, lifting him psychically out of the Philippine heat and mess he cannot bring himself to love. This device’s basicness docks points off for craft, and points off for the function of unironic valorizing of the outside world against the local one. (Aside: It's so funny to yearn for snow because people from snowy countries love flying in here for vacation.)
I myself became inactive after 3 years of struggle. Those three years were brief, arduous, and honestly, very traumatic.
Contradictions are abound, and each inactive has their own set. For this particular inactive, it is this: I entered the org, struggled against reactionaries, struggled more against the comrades, and eventually gave up on it. And right now, I don't feel bad at all about pulling away. But at the same time, I wouldn’t take those years back. Working campaigns that ended in bitter defeats, and in soaring victories. Meeting comrades of every stripe, whose idiosyncrasies come out different after the forge of campaign fire. I pushed my principles to the limit, a political journey that along the way revealed a spectrum of humanity, people and theory at once, before my very eyes. And in the end, I found the limit, and it was enough.
That’s the thing, right? It is not inherently wrong for people like me to leave. But in joining and leaving, one opens their existence up to a personal reckoning.
Like when a peti-burgis UP student joins the movement and later exits it, the actual proletarian people they organized with remain there, abandoned to keep fighting the conditions they never had the option to leave in the first place. Their endurance is inseparable from necessity, caused by the continued sorry state of things. What does that make of you?
The novel finally brushes with the magnitude of this circumstance by facing this very question 4 pages before the end. Noel’s proletariat co-collective member, who lives in a dumpsite, who was imprisoned just like him, but remained in the movement, spends the whole book silent in Noel’s narration. He finally gets a word in edgewise in a final confrontation:
I’m sad because Killing Time in A Warm Place felt like a waste of time. To read a novel just to be given some one-note elitism, of Filipino reddit thread variety, makes me feel silly. More than that, it feels like a wasted opportunity. I’m sad because for a story that is novel-length, never once does it allow itself to show that struggle was beautiful sometimes too. Somewhere inside the inactive activist is a crucial political and human question that our literature is not that interested in. It is not something as grandiose as an indomitable spirit set out to solve the national problem, but something smaller and more human: how to remember a deeply politicized moment in time as one’s human experience. Literature has honored so many little lives, and I think that an inactive person belongs there too.
Final Thoughts
Killing Time in a Warm Place is the first novel of the prolific, multi-award-winning writer Jose Dalisay. Dalisay’s entry to Marcos Sr. era literature takes the unconventional route of extolling surrender, following a self-proclaimed nobody student activist who folded at first chance and broke rank to work for the Marcos government. I don’t recommend this book, either for Martial Law reading, or for leisure reading, because neither need is served by a narrative that’s just the distilled, unexamined thought process of a young elitist Filipino penned by a then-underdeveloped young writer.
In Butch Dalisay’s Killing Time in A Warm Place, we follow Noel Ilustre Bulaong, a common type of activist—an inactive. ‘Inactive’ is what my people called those who stopped being part of the movement. After decades of existing, I’d say the National Democratic movement has more inactive activists than not.
Practically everyone else who joined up at the same time as I did, back in 2018, is now inactive. A lot of us were recruited at the same time, corralled by older tibaks into the AS Lobby after a mob against EJKs. Along with the literal things you learn, like RTR, comes learning a way of thinking, the kind that makes you use your vacant to go knocking on professors’ doors to give unsolicited speeches instead of resting. This goes even deeper in educational discussions, hours-long sessions about Marxist-Leninist-Maoist thought, where learning about the fundamentally oppressive nature of being in a semi-colonial semi-feudal state can create a sense of urgency so strong, a 2nd year UP student can declare going full-time organizer on the spot.
Older tibaks taught me things they couldn’t uphold for long, because they too went inactive.
The reality is, a UP student activist is more likely to stop participating in anything political after one year than carry on into the ‘highest form of struggle’. But you hardly hear about that.
Why? Well. It's hard to talk about. Your former collective might resent you (and a lot of them do). Leadership cares about recruitment, not retention. And no one in your normal life asks, not because your mom and high school barkada don't care, but because they are likely relieved you stopped and don't want to jinx it.
That’s why Killing Time in A Warm Place initially felt important to me. It seemed like it might finally allow that specific mode of being, the inactive activist, to exist openly, in all its thorny, shameful, relieving complexity. When Noel remembers the popular Kule challenge and responds honestly:
“‘If not now, when?’ Maybe some other time. ‘If we do not act, who will?’ Some others will.”
—pg 112
it was the first time I came face to face with the attitude of procrastination toward civic duty that most intellectuals have but don’t say out loud. It felt arresting because it's the ugly truth of how we go about principled sacrifice, which by popular wisdom seems hypocritical for learned people, but already clocked by Mao Zedong.
Unfortunately, the book only commits to being clear-eyed in the last 20 pages. For the preceding 100 pages, Killing Time in A Warm Place is a young writer's appetite for the grotesque, gross and glib—mistaking unpleasantness for depth, Butch Dalisay reached for sensory repulsion when the harder work of psychological excavation was called for.
Noel lives through the First Quarter Storm, the declaration of Martial Law, and EDSA I, narrating his four-person collective's misadventures like a comedy of errors, except Noel is dead serious.
When the book describes Noel’s team leader as out of his depth, it feels contemptuous. When the book dedicates one page to imagining up a poor old man as criminally inclined, and presents a disabling beat down as comeuppance afterwards, it becomes hateful. Both the city and the province fall under this light, whose images are their own particular ways of trash, chaos and shit.
What is spared from the narrator's mean-spirited derision is the West, the luxurious ceremony of high-ranking government work, and anything that signals refinement and elsewhere. Reading this novel is mostly an encounter with Filipino petite bourgeois elitism—of the Sarge Lacuesta stock—substituting real theme. The novel’s framing device reinforces this orientation. Noel narrates his life story to a white foreigner, his concerted translations dotting the text, as if the random American’s recognition would give coherence to his very messy, very Filipino experience.
The novel’s strongest recurring image is snow. Snow—shorthand for the Western, the refined, the elsewhere—punctuates Noel's retelling, lifting him psychically out of the Philippine heat and mess he cannot bring himself to love. This device’s basicness docks points off for craft, and points off for the function of unironic valorizing of the outside world against the local one. (Aside: It's so funny to yearn for snow because people from snowy countries love flying in here for vacation.)
I myself became inactive after 3 years of struggle. Those three years were brief, arduous, and honestly, very traumatic.
Contradictions are abound, and each inactive has their own set. For this particular inactive, it is this: I entered the org, struggled against reactionaries, struggled more against the comrades, and eventually gave up on it. And right now, I don't feel bad at all about pulling away. But at the same time, I wouldn’t take those years back. Working campaigns that ended in bitter defeats, and in soaring victories. Meeting comrades of every stripe, whose idiosyncrasies come out different after the forge of campaign fire. I pushed my principles to the limit, a political journey that along the way revealed a spectrum of humanity, people and theory at once, before my very eyes. And in the end, I found the limit, and it was enough.
That’s the thing, right? It is not inherently wrong for people like me to leave. But in joining and leaving, one opens their existence up to a personal reckoning.
Like when a peti-burgis UP student joins the movement and later exits it, the actual proletarian people they organized with remain there, abandoned to keep fighting the conditions they never had the option to leave in the first place. Their endurance is inseparable from necessity, caused by the continued sorry state of things. What does that make of you?
The novel finally brushes with the magnitude of this circumstance by facing this very question 4 pages before the end. Noel’s proletariat co-collective member, who lives in a dumpsite, who was imprisoned just like him, but remained in the movement, spends the whole book silent in Noel’s narration. He finally gets a word in edgewise in a final confrontation:
“Lolo Waldo died in that fire, in Tambakan…What do you remember of it?” Jong asked, with unusual directness.
“How difficult life was—the pig—the garbage—”
“It hasnt changed, for some of us.”
—pg 123
I’m sad because Killing Time in A Warm Place felt like a waste of time. To read a novel just to be given some one-note elitism, of Filipino reddit thread variety, makes me feel silly. More than that, it feels like a wasted opportunity. I’m sad because for a story that is novel-length, never once does it allow itself to show that struggle was beautiful sometimes too. Somewhere inside the inactive activist is a crucial political and human question that our literature is not that interested in. It is not something as grandiose as an indomitable spirit set out to solve the national problem, but something smaller and more human: how to remember a deeply politicized moment in time as one’s human experience. Literature has honored so many little lives, and I think that an inactive person belongs there too.
Final Thoughts
Killing Time in a Warm Place is the first novel of the prolific, multi-award-winning writer Jose Dalisay. Dalisay’s entry to Marcos Sr. era literature takes the unconventional route of extolling surrender, following a self-proclaimed nobody student activist who folded at first chance and broke rank to work for the Marcos government. I don’t recommend this book, either for Martial Law reading, or for leisure reading, because neither need is served by a narrative that’s just the distilled, unexamined thought process of a young elitist Filipino penned by a then-underdeveloped young writer.
December 23, 2019
We dream of lizards and wake up gasping; but we aren't drowning, we never were. Yet, we can hardly breathe. Why... why...? So we fight. Death is righteous justice. The hearse that shall hold him awaits. It slithers its way slowly... slowly...
But as we wait for its arrival, we shall kill time in a warm place.
But as we wait for its arrival, we shall kill time in a warm place.
April 24, 2010
Excellent writing style, but leaves something to be desired, especially for someone like me who was born after the Marcos Years. Full review here - http://www.deantastic.com/2010/opinio...
July 31, 2024
Me hizo falta más desarrollo para poder adentrarme a la historia
April 17, 2026
Is it bad that I saw myself an awful lot to Noel?
April 19, 2025
Bought and had this book signed at the Dumaguete Literary Festival 2025, so it was a shock to find the same city mentioned later inside the pages. This actually may be the first book of fiction I've read that was set in the Philippines. Truly, it tugs closer to the heart when the concerned issue is prevalent where you reside. I do not mean the wars or insurgency, but perhaps in theory to discuss.
This was written so well, younger me could not have imagined understanding, even more so enjoying, a book with "difficult" words, but so I did, and each word delivered the story to achieve its desired impact, precise and poetic. A story of heart and logic, of demanding more and of making do, of revolt and of restraint, of keeping up with the times, perhaps of growing up.
It honestly scared me to finish this book, because I knew I would be impacted by it in some way, and I did not know how. I was scared I would temporarily lose my mind again, as I do every election season. The reason I do is because I get torn apart from the varying views, and I could not, for the life of me, figure anything entirely out. There are always negatives to the positives that I find, and the negatives are presented to me by the people closest to me, and I trust them, but even if I do, of course I know how any journalist would conquer information presented in their hands, to cross-check the sources always. When there are no sources provided for me to cross-check, I am left to believe them by faith, but when there are, so does my entire being shake: they were not lying.
So I've come to believe in the simple truth that each person speaks their own truths relative to their experience, even when they cannot argue or prove them well. This book, thankfully, I know, was not lying. Reading up on Butch Dalisay's biography, and having met him personally, I felt he was credible enough for me to believe in what he had to say. Thus, I had a lot of questions while and after I read through its pages. Nearing the end, it had me asking, "What was his purpose in writing this?" aside from the obvious, which was to tell a story. I asked in the sense that I wanted to know the truth. Me and my desire to know what is real in a world, in a country, that blinds you with facades and fakes left and right. Perhaps, what also scares me, is that I could have already been manipulated, thus why I feel these things. I guess it can be natural to be at the center, confused, given that I used to not always be at the center, thinking it was imperative to give any opinion, even if it was not whole. Is it?
What was Dalisay's purpose in writing the book? I asked with about 30 pages remaining. Eventually, I found my answer in the fourth and final chapter, wherein it was never a clear-cut answer to what I had been trying to figure out (which side was Dalisay emphasizing, showing its greater value?). That wasn't the point. It was more about being stuck someplace else in principle, and yet there remain the complications of accepting normalcy within a world that you obviously knew had a lot more to prove to be different, to be better. But the revolution they sought wasn't so easy, and I suppose Noel's newfound purpose was a sort of remodeling from the task he sought out when he was younger, and of course, his values have not changed, maybe his principles bent, but to him it was necessary--but I wonder if it is, really, for the writer? Are Dalisay's notions captured in the psyche of his main character? I realized then, this is a writer's privilege: to tell a story without having to directly confront it. The truths are hidden in a chapter, but the answer is never stated in one thesis statement. It could, but with every nuance or complexity presented, it is rarely ever personal. You could deny an opinion, simply because it is not yours, it is your character's.
Perhaps it was also a commentary about the self's capacity for contentment, and whether going back to the camp to keep fighting the big war that could not be won, would satisfy more than making do with a life that asked you to settle down and shift your energy to productively filling in the cracks of society in your own little way. In the epilogue, we are revealed to what Dalisay truly has to say, in his column published in the Philippine Inquirer: live, don't die, for your country. Perhaps that is the thesis statement. Perhaps the reason I feel so troubled in finding the truth was because I agreed with my family to an extent, and that extent is drawn where they cross biases, and argue without sound judgment. Somehow, this book, then, has become my north star, as exaggerated as it may sound. It presents a reality that is so complex, I imagine it could not be denied by any person who has lived through that particular time, mostly because it is a story told from the lens of the revolutionary himself. He will be forgiven by the opposition as he chooses to find a different path from the one he had outgrown, making it difficult to paint him as an antagonist. Yet to the members of the movement, he is still an ally, as he embraces the same values and principles, only these are applied differently than before. I hope, at least, that he is seen trying to take conscious efforts to do more towards their "revolution," such as in writing. But it was never shown; it was only of how easy it was to be swallowed in by the system. I'd like to believe Noel was contributing towards the movement still, after Laurie's letter, in his productive ways as a writer. Just like Dalisay.
I acknowledge the dangers of my doubt, how I'd cling onto anyone who states the reality in the most complex way that I would like to believe them credible. But I trust in Dalisay, not only because he is a writer, but because he has been a young Filipino activist, one that I believe I am, if only in my own terms. That is another thing I have learned then, that activism does not look the same. The book brought to my conscious mind that I am an activist, at heart. I may not be screaming repetitive statements on the streets, but my cause for finding the truth is a manifestation of the passion I have to contribute meaningful change to society. The world may function slightly similarly to the past, but change cannot be gained by following how it was. Activism must change its form, we must adapt.
We must educate ourselves, stay close to our communities, engage in discourse, and even if opinions do not match, at least try to understand why or how other people think like that. We must not close our doors, we are all fighting for the same things. We are all human, we are all Filipino.
That is why I feel all this worry, because I know how much I am capable of shaking up society. At least, I'd like to shake it up for the better, not the worse. I want my activism to be effective, not convenient. Dying is so very convenient.
For an overview, this book is an exhilarating read. The imagery is so vivid, you can hear the sounds in each chapter presented in vibrant colors. The characters are all introduced in a way that makes them relevant, memorable at the end. If you want a book that can make you think, this is one of them, certainly one not to pass on in this modern age. It also wasn't hard to read, even with dainty adjective words sprawled out, it did not lose sight of the message it was trying to share. However, I do admit that its audience is more catered to the middle and upper classes, the "educated" who usually lack enough knowledge to aid their activism. They should be reading this. As for curing a reading slump, this book certainly makes me want to read more Philippine literature, and especially, Dalisay's writing. I'm excited for more of the Filipino stories that I have yet to consume. Suddenly, I feel a distaste towards Western material, or at least, I feel less inclined to engage in theirs. Perhaps because I feel more urgency to know about my country first, which is true given our political landscape today. We'll see how it goes.
Thesis statement: Reading is activism, and writing, even more so.
This was written so well, younger me could not have imagined understanding, even more so enjoying, a book with "difficult" words, but so I did, and each word delivered the story to achieve its desired impact, precise and poetic. A story of heart and logic, of demanding more and of making do, of revolt and of restraint, of keeping up with the times, perhaps of growing up.
It honestly scared me to finish this book, because I knew I would be impacted by it in some way, and I did not know how. I was scared I would temporarily lose my mind again, as I do every election season. The reason I do is because I get torn apart from the varying views, and I could not, for the life of me, figure anything entirely out. There are always negatives to the positives that I find, and the negatives are presented to me by the people closest to me, and I trust them, but even if I do, of course I know how any journalist would conquer information presented in their hands, to cross-check the sources always. When there are no sources provided for me to cross-check, I am left to believe them by faith, but when there are, so does my entire being shake: they were not lying.
So I've come to believe in the simple truth that each person speaks their own truths relative to their experience, even when they cannot argue or prove them well. This book, thankfully, I know, was not lying. Reading up on Butch Dalisay's biography, and having met him personally, I felt he was credible enough for me to believe in what he had to say. Thus, I had a lot of questions while and after I read through its pages. Nearing the end, it had me asking, "What was his purpose in writing this?" aside from the obvious, which was to tell a story. I asked in the sense that I wanted to know the truth. Me and my desire to know what is real in a world, in a country, that blinds you with facades and fakes left and right. Perhaps, what also scares me, is that I could have already been manipulated, thus why I feel these things. I guess it can be natural to be at the center, confused, given that I used to not always be at the center, thinking it was imperative to give any opinion, even if it was not whole. Is it?
What was Dalisay's purpose in writing the book? I asked with about 30 pages remaining. Eventually, I found my answer in the fourth and final chapter, wherein it was never a clear-cut answer to what I had been trying to figure out (which side was Dalisay emphasizing, showing its greater value?). That wasn't the point. It was more about being stuck someplace else in principle, and yet there remain the complications of accepting normalcy within a world that you obviously knew had a lot more to prove to be different, to be better. But the revolution they sought wasn't so easy, and I suppose Noel's newfound purpose was a sort of remodeling from the task he sought out when he was younger, and of course, his values have not changed, maybe his principles bent, but to him it was necessary--but I wonder if it is, really, for the writer? Are Dalisay's notions captured in the psyche of his main character? I realized then, this is a writer's privilege: to tell a story without having to directly confront it. The truths are hidden in a chapter, but the answer is never stated in one thesis statement. It could, but with every nuance or complexity presented, it is rarely ever personal. You could deny an opinion, simply because it is not yours, it is your character's.
Perhaps it was also a commentary about the self's capacity for contentment, and whether going back to the camp to keep fighting the big war that could not be won, would satisfy more than making do with a life that asked you to settle down and shift your energy to productively filling in the cracks of society in your own little way. In the epilogue, we are revealed to what Dalisay truly has to say, in his column published in the Philippine Inquirer: live, don't die, for your country. Perhaps that is the thesis statement. Perhaps the reason I feel so troubled in finding the truth was because I agreed with my family to an extent, and that extent is drawn where they cross biases, and argue without sound judgment. Somehow, this book, then, has become my north star, as exaggerated as it may sound. It presents a reality that is so complex, I imagine it could not be denied by any person who has lived through that particular time, mostly because it is a story told from the lens of the revolutionary himself. He will be forgiven by the opposition as he chooses to find a different path from the one he had outgrown, making it difficult to paint him as an antagonist. Yet to the members of the movement, he is still an ally, as he embraces the same values and principles, only these are applied differently than before. I hope, at least, that he is seen trying to take conscious efforts to do more towards their "revolution," such as in writing. But it was never shown; it was only of how easy it was to be swallowed in by the system. I'd like to believe Noel was contributing towards the movement still, after Laurie's letter, in his productive ways as a writer. Just like Dalisay.
I acknowledge the dangers of my doubt, how I'd cling onto anyone who states the reality in the most complex way that I would like to believe them credible. But I trust in Dalisay, not only because he is a writer, but because he has been a young Filipino activist, one that I believe I am, if only in my own terms. That is another thing I have learned then, that activism does not look the same. The book brought to my conscious mind that I am an activist, at heart. I may not be screaming repetitive statements on the streets, but my cause for finding the truth is a manifestation of the passion I have to contribute meaningful change to society. The world may function slightly similarly to the past, but change cannot be gained by following how it was. Activism must change its form, we must adapt.
We must educate ourselves, stay close to our communities, engage in discourse, and even if opinions do not match, at least try to understand why or how other people think like that. We must not close our doors, we are all fighting for the same things. We are all human, we are all Filipino.
That is why I feel all this worry, because I know how much I am capable of shaking up society. At least, I'd like to shake it up for the better, not the worse. I want my activism to be effective, not convenient. Dying is so very convenient.
For an overview, this book is an exhilarating read. The imagery is so vivid, you can hear the sounds in each chapter presented in vibrant colors. The characters are all introduced in a way that makes them relevant, memorable at the end. If you want a book that can make you think, this is one of them, certainly one not to pass on in this modern age. It also wasn't hard to read, even with dainty adjective words sprawled out, it did not lose sight of the message it was trying to share. However, I do admit that its audience is more catered to the middle and upper classes, the "educated" who usually lack enough knowledge to aid their activism. They should be reading this. As for curing a reading slump, this book certainly makes me want to read more Philippine literature, and especially, Dalisay's writing. I'm excited for more of the Filipino stories that I have yet to consume. Suddenly, I feel a distaste towards Western material, or at least, I feel less inclined to engage in theirs. Perhaps because I feel more urgency to know about my country first, which is true given our political landscape today. We'll see how it goes.
Thesis statement: Reading is activism, and writing, even more so.
April 14, 2019
A lovely, slim novel. What I admire about it most in terms of technique is how the narrator's consciousness swirls around the sources of his guilt; there's an elliptical quality to the prose and construction that really gets at how memory and regret function.
October 9, 2020
I really enjoyed this novella; it feels very much a story and narrative left in flux. I found myself sympathizing with Noel's decisions and positionality; at the same time, I recognize elements of his guilt in my own story.
November 24, 2020
If you are looking for a Martial Law historical fiction, this Butch Dalisay Jr book is a good read. The reader will come to understand the lead's reluctantness and character. Filipinos will appreciate reading—with familiarity—a slice of life during the Marcos regime and the democratic Revolution.
November 5, 2018
for once i liked a book my english teacher also liked! wow
Read
September 29, 2025Manila under Martial Law, in the eyes of Noel Bulaong, is a dystopian simulation.
The Bagong Lipunan promoted silence and acquiescence disguised as discipline and order. There was obvious and rampant corruption from those above as well as uncertainty and chaos from those below, yet government-controlled quietude screamed louder than any of these. Thinking was optional; everything was fine, anyway, said Marcos. As a result, everything felt weird—one slept without even knowing what tomorrow brings. If this was one’s perception of Manila, who did one turn to?
Much to my dismay, Noel, just like many people in his life, chose his own survival. Reading his thoughts in the novel was like correcting a poorly-angled essay. His philosophy: let the others fight for what’s right; he is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, anyway. He believes that there’s more to life than activism, with which he associated his life when he was younger. His character went through ins and outs throughout the book, but one thing still remained: he could only understand the things happening within his circle—the spaces which he can control—and fail to contextualize them to institutions that control them in the first place.
This made it difficult to read and understand the book (if I don’t count the wordy and scaffolded paragraphs; not a big issue, though). I always believe that people should, in some way or another, actively participate in matters of politics and society. I mean this as both a responsibility and a fundamental right. This was unfortunately the truth for many political prisoners, those who killed time in a warm place; Dalisay himself said so in the book’s epilogue. Given the state of Manila back then, this was almost inevitable.
Ultimately, this book serves as a way to learn from people like Noel—to strive for freedom of thought in today’s world with modern manifestations of fascist ideologies. Filipinos need to look beyond their locale and and peer into how large-scale establishments dictate their everyday lives. If there were people back in the Martial Law era blinded by the government’s attempts to hide the gravest dictatorship in Philippine history, we should learn from them and prevent this from happening again.
The Bagong Lipunan promoted silence and acquiescence disguised as discipline and order. There was obvious and rampant corruption from those above as well as uncertainty and chaos from those below, yet government-controlled quietude screamed louder than any of these. Thinking was optional; everything was fine, anyway, said Marcos. As a result, everything felt weird—one slept without even knowing what tomorrow brings. If this was one’s perception of Manila, who did one turn to?
Much to my dismay, Noel, just like many people in his life, chose his own survival. Reading his thoughts in the novel was like correcting a poorly-angled essay. His philosophy: let the others fight for what’s right; he is irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, anyway. He believes that there’s more to life than activism, with which he associated his life when he was younger. His character went through ins and outs throughout the book, but one thing still remained: he could only understand the things happening within his circle—the spaces which he can control—and fail to contextualize them to institutions that control them in the first place.
This made it difficult to read and understand the book (if I don’t count the wordy and scaffolded paragraphs; not a big issue, though). I always believe that people should, in some way or another, actively participate in matters of politics and society. I mean this as both a responsibility and a fundamental right. This was unfortunately the truth for many political prisoners, those who killed time in a warm place; Dalisay himself said so in the book’s epilogue. Given the state of Manila back then, this was almost inevitable.
Ultimately, this book serves as a way to learn from people like Noel—to strive for freedom of thought in today’s world with modern manifestations of fascist ideologies. Filipinos need to look beyond their locale and and peer into how large-scale establishments dictate their everyday lives. If there were people back in the Martial Law era blinded by the government’s attempts to hide the gravest dictatorship in Philippine history, we should learn from them and prevent this from happening again.
May 24, 2025
Youth are the future of the next generation. During the Martial Law era in the Philippines, college students were among the key contributors to the revolution. They found ways to involve themselves in addressing injustice—challenging what was wrong and pushing for what was right.
Killing Time in a Warm Place is a historical fiction novel that centers on the life of Noel Bulaong, a college dropout who becomes a revolutionary and eventually ends up as a detainee in a military camp.
The storytelling is particularly interesting, as it doesn’t follow a linear sequence. Instead, the narrative unfolds through fragmented memories, told out of chronological order. While this structure may cause some confusion at first, it adds depth to the portrayal of the people, culture of the Philippines, and events of that era.
The novel also explores the journey of someone who, after ceasing to fight for the cause, ends up working with the very government he once opposed. Noel, despite believing he has abandoned the fight, continues to help and reconnect with his former comrades in the movement.
Historical fiction reimagines real events—such as the unimaginable brutality of that time—and this book does justice to that reality. Additionally, it highlights how those in power can fabricate accolades and contributions. Without proper access to research, people often believe what they are told or read. Strikingly, this issue remains relevant today, despite the many tools available for fact-checking and independent investigation.
Killing Time in a Warm Place is a historical fiction novel that centers on the life of Noel Bulaong, a college dropout who becomes a revolutionary and eventually ends up as a detainee in a military camp.
The storytelling is particularly interesting, as it doesn’t follow a linear sequence. Instead, the narrative unfolds through fragmented memories, told out of chronological order. While this structure may cause some confusion at first, it adds depth to the portrayal of the people, culture of the Philippines, and events of that era.
The novel also explores the journey of someone who, after ceasing to fight for the cause, ends up working with the very government he once opposed. Noel, despite believing he has abandoned the fight, continues to help and reconnect with his former comrades in the movement.
Historical fiction reimagines real events—such as the unimaginable brutality of that time—and this book does justice to that reality. Additionally, it highlights how those in power can fabricate accolades and contributions. Without proper access to research, people often believe what they are told or read. Strikingly, this issue remains relevant today, despite the many tools available for fact-checking and independent investigation.
January 12, 2026
Evidently, a different perspective on the movement. One that is individualist and, whether we like it or not, realistic. There is a saying within the movement that “ang namulat ay hindi na muling pipikit,” that which gains consciousness will never turn a blind eye again.
That’s evidently wrong. Many who have witnessed the horrors of Martial Law sometimes choose to leave it all behind. To them, it’s better to wander blindly in the dark than face it head on, as with Noel.
I wrote in the marginalia once that Noel was obviously an individualist. While, yes, he served the people, served his time, and served his life, in the end, he is still human with a fear of the dark; or rather, what lurks in the dark, whichever color.
I had a hard time with this book. Not because of its themes but because of the language. I struggled with the mental conflict I had reading in English a Philippine event in history that I’ve always read about in Filipino.
So there was this huge disconnect with how beautiful and dense the English prose is, with how starkly political, and starkly Filipino the story is.
I still liked it though.
(Would also love to mention how insane the opening paragraph was to this book. This book had been in my radar for so long, and I come across it in the bookstore and read a few words but never buy it. Then, when my English professor showed the paragraph to us, I recognized it and immediately bought it.)
That’s evidently wrong. Many who have witnessed the horrors of Martial Law sometimes choose to leave it all behind. To them, it’s better to wander blindly in the dark than face it head on, as with Noel.
I wrote in the marginalia once that Noel was obviously an individualist. While, yes, he served the people, served his time, and served his life, in the end, he is still human with a fear of the dark; or rather, what lurks in the dark, whichever color.
I had a hard time with this book. Not because of its themes but because of the language. I struggled with the mental conflict I had reading in English a Philippine event in history that I’ve always read about in Filipino.
So there was this huge disconnect with how beautiful and dense the English prose is, with how starkly political, and starkly Filipino the story is.
I still liked it though.
(Would also love to mention how insane the opening paragraph was to this book. This book had been in my radar for so long, and I come across it in the bookstore and read a few words but never buy it. Then, when my English professor showed the paragraph to us, I recognized it and immediately bought it.)
June 3, 2021
Not sure what the jumping back and forth in time really adds to the story. Makes it feel a bit disjointed, as we would be transported to a different scene right when I was starting to get absorbed in the previous one. This might have been better if it was written in a more straightforward manner — maybe I could have more deeply felt the monotony of prison or Noel's processing of his guilt if I were given more time to get immersed in scenes.
For many sections, it felt that the narrator's observations and little insights into the different settings of the story were more interesting and full of life than the actual characters and plot line. As it is, the story only felt loosely tied together as characters drifted in and out of the narrative. While the writing is entertaining enough (though it uses a bit too many highfalutin words for my taste), the emotional impact could have been much greater if the book did away with the slice-of-life vignettes and just gave us a solid 150 more pages to really flesh out the main character's emotional journey. I still enjoyed it, but can't shake the feeling that there's a much more powerful narrative here just bubbling under the surface.
Also, shoutout to lodi Butch Dalisay for his very entertaining STS talk that motivated me to read his book, haha.
For many sections, it felt that the narrator's observations and little insights into the different settings of the story were more interesting and full of life than the actual characters and plot line. As it is, the story only felt loosely tied together as characters drifted in and out of the narrative. While the writing is entertaining enough (though it uses a bit too many highfalutin words for my taste), the emotional impact could have been much greater if the book did away with the slice-of-life vignettes and just gave us a solid 150 more pages to really flesh out the main character's emotional journey. I still enjoyed it, but can't shake the feeling that there's a much more powerful narrative here just bubbling under the surface.
Also, shoutout to lodi Butch Dalisay for his very entertaining STS talk that motivated me to read his book, haha.
March 4, 2026
The prose is oftentimes beautiful and lyrical although I have to admit, due to a limitation on my vocabulary, it was a bit difficult for me at times to keep up with the story. And also, I have had some difficulty in keeping up with the flow and timeline of the story because of the back and forth of the past and the present events that were unclear at some point.
With those minor qualms aside, all in all it was a great read.The book successfully shows the horrors of the injustices during the time of Martial Law by Marcos.
We follow the lives of these young men whose nationalistic views for the country were criminalized under Ferdinand Marcos's time. We follow them before and during the implementation of Martial Law. Their stories are told in a matter-of-fact way, albeit the words used are beyond the norm and unusual, that when you follow them you develop a sense of kinship towards them.
The story is haunting and told in a cold manner that as I was reading it I found myself staring blankly into space in contemplation. It only further revealed and reimposed the horrors of that point in history. Especially in this time of misinformation, 'Killing Time in A Warm Place' is a much required and essential reading.
With those minor qualms aside, all in all it was a great read.The book successfully shows the horrors of the injustices during the time of Martial Law by Marcos.
We follow the lives of these young men whose nationalistic views for the country were criminalized under Ferdinand Marcos's time. We follow them before and during the implementation of Martial Law. Their stories are told in a matter-of-fact way, albeit the words used are beyond the norm and unusual, that when you follow them you develop a sense of kinship towards them.
The story is haunting and told in a cold manner that as I was reading it I found myself staring blankly into space in contemplation. It only further revealed and reimposed the horrors of that point in history. Especially in this time of misinformation, 'Killing Time in A Warm Place' is a much required and essential reading.
Read
March 12, 2026i think the plot and the prose is nice. highlights were when noel was being chased out into the boulevard. good! however some criticisms:
Noel clearly has a lot to lose and throughout the course of the story he makes it abundantly clear that he does not want to lose it. his cushy petit-bourgeois life with the stateside luxuries and air conditioning were non-negotiable. he looks down on Jong, the lumpen character, with the rest of his comrades, as if their petib upbringing gave them a moral ascendancy over him -- a former criminal who grew up in slums that soon burnt down. most of their revolutionary practice boils down to intellectual masturbation honestly and then once shown the overwhelming power and cruelty of the state he just Gives Up because he does not have nothing to lose but his chains, he is an immature teenager who happens to adopt the revolutionary cause as his own for the meantime. And even as the character grows up he still has a sort of disdain for Jong, which is funny because he's lowkey spitting in the face of the thousands of anak-sa-buhat who died for a cause much greater than anything noel ilustre bulaong could ever imagine.
2.5
Noel clearly has a lot to lose and throughout the course of the story he makes it abundantly clear that he does not want to lose it. his cushy petit-bourgeois life with the stateside luxuries and air conditioning were non-negotiable. he looks down on Jong, the lumpen character, with the rest of his comrades, as if their petib upbringing gave them a moral ascendancy over him -- a former criminal who grew up in slums that soon burnt down. most of their revolutionary practice boils down to intellectual masturbation honestly and then once shown the overwhelming power and cruelty of the state he just Gives Up because he does not have nothing to lose but his chains, he is an immature teenager who happens to adopt the revolutionary cause as his own for the meantime. And even as the character grows up he still has a sort of disdain for Jong, which is funny because he's lowkey spitting in the face of the thousands of anak-sa-buhat who died for a cause much greater than anything noel ilustre bulaong could ever imagine.
2.5
February 7, 2024
needed some time to think about this book, swirl it around my head. was a martial law story i didnt expect, which just meant, was a martial law story that was not of heroic activists and evil dictators, but of a conflicted man who found freedom in imprisonment and imprisonment in freedom. i thought to myself, if the 'place' where the protagonist 'killed time' in the title meant prison, how come it was described 'warm'? after a while, this novel was not really a story about the turmoil in the 70s and 80s, but the turmoil in the main character's head and heart. it felt real and tragic (because surely it was both).
thoroughly enjoyed reading this but i can understand why it could be boring to others. really liked the writing style here, prob the best among the philippine fiction books ive read!
thoroughly enjoyed reading this but i can understand why it could be boring to others. really liked the writing style here, prob the best among the philippine fiction books ive read!
January 29, 2025
This is a well-written book. The circular timeline was confusing for me at first, but I eventually liked it. It was fun connecting the dots along the way. Some parts were too 'slow' for my liking as the author likes to take his time in vividly describing the context of the scene, the setting, and the characters' thoughts and emotions. Overall, I think this book should be a required reading in Philippine literature classes. It is short, easy to read, and has huge potential to open up various insights from students regarding Martial Law, activism, and migration.
February 5, 2018
I was born somewhere between GenX and Millennial -- I haven't had the slightest idea of what it's like to live during the martial law here in the Philippines but I have so much feels for that specific era.
This book tears me apart -- it gives me the sense of how we should serve with the government or serve for the people, beat the system and the rotten people in it, fight for ideologies or just go with the flow - be a capitalist, live the life you somehow dream of ...
This book tears me apart -- it gives me the sense of how we should serve with the government or serve for the people, beat the system and the rotten people in it, fight for ideologies or just go with the flow - be a capitalist, live the life you somehow dream of ...
January 26, 2021
Killing Time in a Warm Place is a good read but it had a lot of things going on. This book is ideal for readers who would want to get a slice of life during the Marcos dictatorship and how it transformed lives of many people--in every sense of the word.
This tells the tale of Noel Bulaong who returns home from the US to bury his father. From this moment forward, we were brought back to his days as a comrade along with other personalities.
This tells the tale of Noel Bulaong who returns home from the US to bury his father. From this moment forward, we were brought back to his days as a comrade along with other personalities.
September 10, 2025
Me ha costado entrar en la historia.
"Una revolución no es una fiesta, las masas son los verdaderos héroes, atrévete a luchar, atrévete a ganar, sirve al pueblo, en tiempos difíciles no debemos perder de vista nuestros logros, debemos ver el futuro brillante y armarnos de valor."
"La cárcel daba miedo, pero la libertad daba más miedo todavía. La cárcel podía ser un lugar cálido y tranquilo, allí lo único que tenías que hacer era pasar el rato."
"Una revolución no es una fiesta, las masas son los verdaderos héroes, atrévete a luchar, atrévete a ganar, sirve al pueblo, en tiempos difíciles no debemos perder de vista nuestros logros, debemos ver el futuro brillante y armarnos de valor."
"La cárcel daba miedo, pero la libertad daba más miedo todavía. La cárcel podía ser un lugar cálido y tranquilo, allí lo único que tenías que hacer era pasar el rato."
August 28, 2025
Novela corta sobre un filipino afincado en Estados Unidos que vuelve a su país durante la ley marcial impuesta por Ferdinand Marcos, el dictador filipino.
Pese a tener un argumento interesante, narrado desde el punto de vista opositor, comunista y maoísta, la narración resulta aburrida, poco clara y sin enganchar en ningún momento.
Pese a tener un argumento interesante, narrado desde el punto de vista opositor, comunista y maoísta, la narración resulta aburrida, poco clara y sin enganchar en ningún momento.
August 21, 2018
GOOD
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 23, 2019
Libro que nos lleva a Filipinas y a recuerdos de la dictadura de Marcos. Le he puesto tres estrellas porque no me ha enganchado, aunque debo decir que está muy bien escrito.
December 18, 2025
Fucking waste of time
June 28, 2025
"(…) la ciudad que vive a ras de suelo se desborda y se desahoga con los más pobres, los que han invadido los terrenos más friables.
Los que llegan de las provincias en tropel, en barcos y autobuses sofocantes, y se adjudican trechos a la orilla de los esteros. Con contrachapado, hierro galvanizado, maderos viejos y llantas de neumáticos (pesos con los que lastrar los tejados), erigen una vivienda en menos de lo que cuesta digerir la cena y meten sus esteras de paja, sus cajas de cartón llenas de ropa, sus lámparas de gas y sus santos; con el instinto del niño que mama, hacen suyas las tomas de agua y de corriente eléctrica más cercanas y, así conectados, se convierten en miembros de la ciudad babilónica que más nueva es donde más vieja parece."
Una ventana a ese país cálido como es Filipinas, con sus dos estaciones: lluvia y calor, que podría ser la metáfora del caos y la tranquilidad aunque siempre hay uno que se impone sobre otra.
Los que llegan de las provincias en tropel, en barcos y autobuses sofocantes, y se adjudican trechos a la orilla de los esteros. Con contrachapado, hierro galvanizado, maderos viejos y llantas de neumáticos (pesos con los que lastrar los tejados), erigen una vivienda en menos de lo que cuesta digerir la cena y meten sus esteras de paja, sus cajas de cartón llenas de ropa, sus lámparas de gas y sus santos; con el instinto del niño que mama, hacen suyas las tomas de agua y de corriente eléctrica más cercanas y, así conectados, se convierten en miembros de la ciudad babilónica que más nueva es donde más vieja parece."
Una ventana a ese país cálido como es Filipinas, con sus dos estaciones: lluvia y calor, que podría ser la metáfora del caos y la tranquilidad aunque siempre hay uno que se impone sobre otra.
April 22, 2013
I thought I would like Mr. Dalisay's novels better but I wasn't totally fulfilled by this story. It was very descriptive but the plot seemed disjointed. The story jumped around to much to understand what was going on and when. The main character was enjoyable, especially in his relationships with Jong and Benny and how this relationships helped him get through the turbulent times of the Marcos regime. Too much emptiness at times to let the reader wander more to themselves what happens to Noel than actually knowing from the author what he is up to. Would have liked to learn more about how Marcos changed the Filipino society during his rule that caused Noel and his friends to form their anti-Marcos group.
Want to Read
August 15, 2012KOBOBOOKS
Reviewed by The Complete Review
Reviewed by The Complete Review
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