PAREDES
More than the delight in finding literature disguised as journalism or history, it’s also the sheer pleasure of going through how a great mind works.
Cebu’s small community of writers is elated over the awarding of one of its own, Dr. Resil Mojares, as this year’s National Artist for Literature.
I share that joy having known him since I was a student in the University of San Carlos, where he remains today its only Professor Emeritus.
He was then teaching for both undergrad and graduate students and at the same time heading the Cebuano Studies Center, a library and archive that he founded.
Mojares was also the adviser of the Today’s Carolinian, the official student publication of USC, which in the early 90s was enjoying its first few years of autonomy after it was resurrected following Martial Law’s ban on student publications.
Before it closed, the Carolinian (as it was then called) had as one of its editors the young and radical Resil Mojares, who wrote not only political essays but also short stories and poetry.
As members of the Today’s Carolinian in the early 90s, we had access to old copies of the paper which feature Dr. M’s (as we often called him) articles.
Of course, there was also his column entitled “Footnotes to an Absent Text”, which we read every Sunday on Sun Star Weekend Magazine.
To young writers like us, Mojares’s work was a great source of inspiration.
Student activists often have an air of irreverence but those of us who read Mojares always had high regard for him and would always fall in silent awe as he passed by, walking calmly often with a book in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
He was the epitome of cool.
With minds like Dostoevsky’s Raskolnikov, we were ready to slay all gods and masters if the revolution won, but we would certainly spare Dr. M. He was one of us, we’d like to think.
After all, he was also jailed during Martial Law fighting the dictatorship with the might of his pen.
I eventually found a job in Sun Star Daily even as I juggled between my studies, writing for Today’s Carolinian, and being an activist.
As cartoonist and graphic designer, I was able to layout and even illustrate Mojares’s articles.
Eventually, I was assigned as illustrator in Weekend Magazine, where I would also begin contributing as writer and photographer.
The Weekend office was a small hangout for local writers, both acolyte and seasoned, who regularly wrote or contributed to the magazine.
Among the latter, was Mojares, whose column on the last page gave readers something hard to ponder as they fold it down.
And Mojares always leave you with a lingering thought.
I have since been collecting Mojares’s books since I bought his House of Memory, a collection of essays mostly culled from his column in Weekend.
Although we have read some of the essays when they first appeared in the magazine, we kept reading them again and again.
Perhaps, when we reread a book, we do so already to retrace how the writer writes.
This is what makes Resil Mojares so fascinating and enjoyable to reread.
We are always amazed at the sheer beauty and precision of his words.
It doesn’t matter what he writes about, whether it’s a hearty meal at a fish port, a jeepney ride, or a brewing revolution.
More than the delight in finding literature disguised as journalism or history, it’s also the sheer pleasure of going through how a great mind works.
And although he once said that he only prefers to write with a small community in mind (obviously, his beloved Cebu), his influence and inspiration has captured the whole nation.
That is what truly makes Resil Mojares a National Artist.