Best books list

The New York Times is releasing its list of The 100 Best Books of the 21st Century on installment. I don't take any list seriously—unless we're talking of board exam passers or, my goodness, the yearly PGH Sunog List. The Times list is a consensus, a set of collected opinions, affected by feelings and some level of objectivity. 

Still . . . I am hooked. Enumerations like these are fascinating to read. I discover writers I hadn't heard of before, such as Lucia Berlin, whose short story collection, "A Manual for Cleaning Women," I'd just downloaded in Kindle. The writer Lydia Davis, whom I adore, heaps praises about Berlin's work. I figured there must be something in Berlin's books.

I'm still waiting for names like Marilynne Robinson, Cormac McCarthy, Salman Rushdie, and so much more, to show up. What about Lorrie Moore, Joan Didion, Jonathan Safran Foer, JK Rowling, David Sedaris, Miranda July, John Updike?

But I love the list because they show photos of book covers, crumpled on the edges, the way we know that a book has been read and, perhaps, loved. For instance, you can also view what books Stephen King chose, and proceed from there. The list offers a better alternative to internet algorithms. 

There are, of course, books that I would include, if I'd been asked. But I am not a "literary luminary." The list misses out on a lot of theological and religious books, and books in English written by authors who live elsewhere—but the list makers and you, the reader, already know that. 

The greatest value of such lists is the opportunity to discover writers and works, and to read others write about the books they love, which is part of the fun. Reading is a solitary exercise, but the enjoyment is amplified when other people, especially your friends and people you admire, talk about the books that have changed, entertained, and moved them and you, quietly and curiously, ask them, "Tuod ka? Nami na?"

***

It's Elena Ferrante's My Brilliant Friend that gets the number one spot. I love Elena Ferrante! I remember the time when, tired from walking around Milan, I entered a dark café to rest my legs and read a few chapters from the book. The chapter was, incidentally, based in Milan! My actual experience of the city enriched my reading of the book.

Inside a French restaurant in Cebu

"Shy ako."

T'nalak Fest preparations are underway

Typecast 13: Senses

My favorite line in chapter 1: "... dressed with that particular kind of shabbiness which marks the member of the intelligentsia on a holiday." 

That's my fashion-style—shabbiness—but not of the academic kind. Just plain old iron-deficiency. Why iron clothes when they'll be lukot when you put seatbelts on? My family disagrees.

Hotcake

At the College of Medicine, Dr. Jun Yabon treated us to hotcakes, fresh and hot, which reminded me of childhood. Returning from palengke, Tatay brought back this dessert—hot, soft, fluffy, lathered with margarine and a sprinkling of sugar—the stuff that leads to a happy kind of hyperglycemia.

Typecast 12: I hate to waste paper

(Click the image to enlarge.)

By the shore

Like most people I know who, like me, live an hour away from the sea, I think of vacations as days by the beach. 

Where to?

When I'm in a foreign place I use Google Maps all the time, but intersections give me headaches. To be honest I'm not sure if my navigation skills will take me anywhere if you handed me an actual map. The app tells me, say, to right in one corner, but I won't be certain if I'm in the right place until I see the blue pin moving in the screen, approaching the correct vector. You will see me walk straight for 10 meters, scratch my head, go in another direction, and continue on if the arrow tells me I'm doing it right. I did that on my way to Gwangjun market. The old Korean man wondered what I was doing. 

[Google Maps works best with mobile data, which I activate through esims. Holafly or Airalo (thanks for recommending, Sir Will!) offer the best deals and can go cheaper than roaming.]

A full day in Seoul

  

While watching—or pretending to watch—the changing of the palace guards in front of the Gwanghwamun Gate of Gyeongbokgung Palace, I overheard two sixty-something Ilongga women in thick, colorful hanbok say to each other, "Daw malipong na ko. Puli na ta." Like me, they hid under the shade of the police lookout station.

"Taga-diin kamo, Ma'am?" I asked.

"Sa Roxas kami," the older lady said.

I then met Abby at Homie Café. The small store displayed a portable typewriter and served great coffee. The writer Jessica Zafra wrote about how easy it is to score a good cup of coffee in Seoul than in anywhere else she had been to, including Italy. Now I see her point.

Abby, who graduates from internal medicine training this year, is our chief resident from St. Elizabeth Hospital. She had just presented our case report in a huge oncology meeting in South Korea today. When I met her yesterday, she was apologetic. She got lost because she took the wrong train. I brushed it aside, told her that happens all the time. There are worse ways to spend a conference trip, and that includes losing your poster in the airport. Yes, I'm talking to you, Roger Velasco.

We had traditional and mango bingsu in Gyedong. We were thirsty from all the walking. South Korean heat, like a tropical morning during Monday flag ceremonies, is nothing compared to GenSan's, which feels like the artisanal ovens they cook pizzas in. But I would have preferred sweater weather.

We went to the Starfield Library in Coex, Gangnam. By this time, we already had better grasp of the train system. 

Oh, if you plan to visit Seoul, don't go on a tour group. It's better explored on foot. On your own. Unless you're with my mother, who prefers to sit all the time. Download the Naver app. Google Maps and Apple Maps don't work well. Get a Tmoney card from any convenience store and add credits to it through a machine in the subway. The machine does not accept credit cards, only cash—a lesson I'd learned the hard way, which required me to go up and down three flights of stairs four times. I could have easily taken a cab, but my pride got the better of me. If I was able to figure out the Japan train system, I certainly could do South Korea's, too. I did, eventually, after what felt like a major leg and cardio day in the gym.

Everything, it seems, is translated to Korean. The books are lovely, the paper creamy and smooth. I experienced a Dark Matter-ish kind of disorientation when I saw Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tail in Korean and with a better book cover. 

At 4 PM, we couldn't decide if it was too late for a proper lunch or too early for a proper dinner. We bought pork skewers from this smiling man in Myeongdong. The teriyaki sauce dripped on my sneakers, but the street food tasted so, so good.

Full, Abby and I decided to call it a night, parted ways to our own hotels, and agreed to meet early the next day for day one of the conference. I felt like running because I'd forgotten I was lactose-intolerant until my bowels demanded to be evacuated as soon as possible, many thanks to the bingsu splurge.

 

Abby did such a great job at the conference today! Congratulations, Abby, Rhea, Felise and Dayanara, for a job well done.

Two friends

Mural along Judge Alba Street.

A dad's sperm affects his son's metabolism, Nature study says

I'm always on the lookout for illustrations that might find some use in the classroom. Here's one, for example, about how diet affects epigenetic expression. 

A dad’s sperm records his diet — and this record affects his sons’ metabolism, according to a study of mice and humans.

Giving male mice a high-fat diet raises levels of some types of RNA in their sperm, the study found. The research also showed that the male offspring of male mice on this unhealthy diet had metabolic problems such as glucose intolerance, a characteristic of diabetes. The sons of human dads with a high body mass index (BMI) exhibited similar problems, according to epidemiological analysis.

The study was published in Nature on 6 June.

How to Give Better Lectures: Some Tips for Doctors

Here's the slide set of the talk I delivered to colleagues from the Koronadal Internists Society last night, as part of the series on Continuing Medical Education.

To Doctors Who Write on Spotify

I sometimes listen to the Kwentong Callroom podcast on Spotify, that crazy show hosted by Ella and JB who have made a career out of talking about all things related to medicine and making sense of them. Ella Masayamor and JB Besa are doctors. Their friendly, laughter-ridden banter reminds me of slow, light, life-giving days in the call room—that small space one shares with one's companions in residency. The pressures of medical training can be crushing. The call room offers an oasis where one can decompress, rant, and share stories of victory and humiliation. 

When I shared the story of a consultant who called me stupid for ordering D-dimer for a severely ill patient with leptospirosis (I shouldn't have), the response I got was laughter. I laughed with them and at myself. What fun to have other people, who go through the same challenges as you, get what you mean. To be heard and better yet, laughed at, can be encouraging. That's why I enjoy Kuwentong Callroom so much. We must have sounded like this, too, but Ella and JB have, for the last two years, taken the form to a whole new level, sharing it with the rest of the world, sharing their wisdom and wealth of experiences. 

I enjoyed the episode, To Doctors Who Write. Written in the show notes are the words:

In the spirit of demystifying and humanizing medicine, doctor-writers Joti and Will tell us how they started writing, how they found their voice, and how writing helps them become better doctors.

Joti Tabula is a poet, publisher, and talent scout, with a nose for literary gift among doctors. He founded the Philippine Society for Literature and Medicine and leads the Committee on Humanities of the Philippine College of Physicians, with Dr. Noel Pingoy. Will Liangco is the award-winning writer of Even Ducks Get Liver Cancer, one of the most popular books in the country. His work got a National Book Award recently. Both are so talented and fun to be with. You'll hear them talk with Ella and JB in this wonderful episode. 

A few months ago, I was with Joti and Will, those two literary superstars, in Cebu during a writing workshop for medical oncologists. 

Dogs on the road

A woman hugs her aspin as she scans her phone at the back of a tricycle, the main public transportation in the city. The dog smiles, comforted by human touch, for what else does he need but tenderness? Photo taken at Alunan Avenue - Judge Alba Street intersection in Marbel. 

Riding on a Ford pick up truck, the husky, wears sunglasses, endearing motorcycle riders and cars passengers nearby as they wait for the green light. True to form, the husky howls at them, singing, it seemed, with joy, despite General Santos morning sun. I snapped the photo during my patient rounds.

The durian does not fall far from the tree

Spotted during my early morning walks: a small, premature durian fruit on the road. Meanwhile, Paul was approached by four mini pinschers, inviting him to carouse and jostle, but our aspin did not mind them and simply walked away, more interested, it seemed, in the grass than his fellow canines.

In sync

These blinking SUVs, likely government owned, remind me of women whose menstrual cycles are in sync.

Square

Trying out the square format of photos, inspired largely by Des's photos.

Ending the semester

I give quizzes in class to make sure my students did some reading before they listened to my lecture. I, and I suppose my students, find this approach good for learning. The concepts of biochemistry and molecular biology, the main subjects I teach, are best learned individually. The student reads the material, processes the concepts in his/her head, takes down notes, memorizes, understands, and applies it. The lecture serves as tool for the student to synthesize the concepts and to ask me questions, mostly for clarification. 

My students welcome my quiz announcements with nervous anticipation. We check the quiz together and discuss the answers. The quiz therefore accomplishes two major things for me: it helps me gauge their grasp of the subject matter and identify their gaps in knowledge. 

In a sense, I treat my students as Self-Deceived Rational Utility Maximizers, a concept I loosely borrow from Alan Jacobs, who teaches humanities. 

Students have many demands on their time, and they would also like to spend at least some of that time enjoying themselves, so when they look at what they’re supposed to do in any given week, they triage: What has to be done first? That is, what will I pay a price for not doing? Whatever would cost them the most to skip is what they do first, and then they work their way down the line. If you have assigned your students some reading but they pay no price for neglecting that reading, then students will neglect that reading. It’s as simple as that. When I was in college I thought in precisely the same way. I rationally maximized my utility, according to what was utile by my lights.

And this:

This is why I give reading quizzes: to move my assignments up in the queue, to force the practitioner of triage to reckon with me. And there’s another reason: We go over each quiz in class — I make them grade their own quizzes — and in the process I discover what they noticed and what they missed. That’s useful information for me, and not just when I’m making up future quizzes: I’m able in our discussion to zero in on those overlooked passages. “Why did I ask about this? Why is this passage important?” I also encourage them to tell me when they think a question is too picky — sometimes I even agree that it is, though whether I do or not it’s helpful to explain why I asked it.

Let me also just say: it's been a pleasure to co-teach biochemistry with this excellent gang of teachers the semester—Drs. Lyza, Nikki, Kath, and Junjun!

Music nib

I am using Sean's Sailor fountain pen with a music nib. The ink is Diamine Chrome. The nib transforms my ordinary handwriting into something calligraphic.  

Today is Tatay's death anniversay. It has been six years but there are days when I feel he is just right around the corner, napping in the other room.

Isidor, the siamang

Sean sends me this photo with a message from Australia, "Manong, kapangalan mo."