Philippine Book Festival 2023

Through all the years before the pandemic, I’d traipse around book fairs from the first day to the last. It didn’t matter if I had a scheduled book signing or book talk or not. I was there from opening time till closing time. The thrill of meeting kindred spirits, finding books and stockpiling them in my carry-all was immeasurable. 

But something happened. 

When the The Philippine Book Festival (PBF), held from June 2 to 4 at the World Trade Center,  was announced, my heart didn’t spin beyond control as it used to. I read the announcement cursorily. Next, I got a message from OMF Lit, publisher of many of my books, asking me what day would I be at the book fair for book signing.  I chose only one day—and just for the allotted hour.  

The ad for the book fair was sent to me immediately. 

By all standards, it is inviting. Although I promptly uploaded it to my FB page, my pulse idled at low RPM. 

Then came D-day. With my usual book-fair entourage—sons #1 and #3 and my sister Aie—I hied to the book fair after the worship service.  I stayed in the publisher’s booths signing books and chatting with readers (this was the only part of the whole scenario that perked me up) and not much else. 

The PBS was everything it was hyped to be: “a book experience and the biggest travelling book festival in the country that highlights Filipino books.” A joint project  of the National Book Development Board (NBDB),the National Library of the Philippines and other partner agencies, it was (the crowd was huge) a success.  Sons and Aie had a tall pile of purchases! 

I bought a few books, which I had intended to buy prior to the event, greeted the friends I bumped into, but I didn’t scour the area. I even forgot to take pictures. These photos were sent to me by friends:  

What happened? Age? Pandemic inertia at rest? Loss of interest/energy? Priority re-calibration? Effect of two Covid-19 infections? PTSD?

I can’t put a finger on it. But perhaps the reason/s can be found in Ecclesiastes 3:1-8:   

For everything there is a season,

    a time for every activity under heaven.

A time to be born and a time to die.

    A time to plant and a time to harvest.

A time to kill and a time to heal.

    A time to tear down and a time to build up.

A time to cry and a time to laugh.

    A time to grieve and a time to dance.

A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones.

    A time to embrace and a time to turn away.

A time to search and a time to quit searching.

    A time to keep and a time to throw away.

A time to tear and a time to mend.

    A time to be quiet and a time to speak.

A time to love and a time to hate.

    A time for war and a time for peace.