Nick Joaquin’s “Summer Solstice” is one of the many intoxicating stories he's made.

It could have been attributed to the author’s state of mind while writing his stories.

He shares this kind of style with Edgar Allan Poe and Ernest Hemingway. They love

to drink and write. I love to drink and drink… milk. I wish I am still a child to enjoy it

for free where only my cry is my ticket to getting it. This maybe the reason why I

still have this magnetic attraction to breasts.

I must admit, I’m not in the position to carry out a criticism of a master’s work. Who

am I anyway? A master’s work is a master’s work. But as human beings, it is in our

nature to criticize. We even criticize the looks of our fellow humans whom God

masterfully created. I am not excused from such nature, so, coupled with the

obligation from the teacher, I will declare that I don’t like the story. It simply lacks

the eroticism of a Harold Robbins. The only short story I love that is devoid of any

eroticism is Rappaccinni’s Daughter by Hawthorne. It is romantic.

Summer solstice is the time of the year in the Northern Hemisphere when the noon

Sun appears to be farthest North. It is a sacred occasion for the druids of England. It

was even insisted by scientists to have caused the erection of the famous prehistoric

monument in Salisbury, England, the Stonehenge.

Nick Joaquin’s short story version of the natural phenomenon does not instigate any

erection of some sort. It is disappointing. I suspect that he could have made some

erections, given the way he used and hinted in describing the femaleness or

maleness of his subjects. However, he didn’t. For what? For delicadesa? I was

confused until it dawned on me that he could have done that deliberately. He did

that to defraud his audience into reading further by hanging their expectations in

suspended imaginations. He successfully outraged the worldly emotions of human

fervor but resisted from satisfying them. He could have done what I needed to read,

but he didn’t. It is “bitin”. And that’s the secret. To hold your audience by their

natural instincts for your own advantage is Freudian. A trickery or magic that can

only be juggled and pulled off, if you are a master of the trade. No wonder, the

Palanca juries succumbed the same way into giving out their token.

Now, to evaluate the story, the plot was engineered to be like a movie plot during

his time. It can be observed that he employed capitalized words to suggest

transitions. As a great fan of classical movies, some of which dates to the time of

Master Joaquin, there is a striking resemblance to the way the movies were made

during that time to his “Summer Solstice”. Movies during the post war era do show

the audience the name of each scene before proceeding.

Such method of breaking the proceedings helps the unaware few, and the slow ones

like me to dissect his point of view or what the story is all about in installment basis.

It somewhat helps the curious or the obliged reader like our class for this matter to

rewind the contents of the story encapsulated within the transition and read it

further just to have some meager grasp of what is happening.

There are six scenes or transitions I have observed upon reading. The first, after the

title, established the era or time when the story happened. Introduction of props like

horse-drawn carriages certainly does not depict the present but leads the reader to

the past. The main character Doña Lupeng was introduced as a conservative mother

of three boys and living a posh lifestyle with servants. This suggests statutory pride

that you would not expect her or, with her husband Don Paeng to mingle with the

people outside their social realm. Don Paeng and Entoy, the driver were not as

boisterously introduced by the author than the Doña or Amada. Another important

ingredient was the nearing occasion of St. John’s festival. This accentuates the story

with familiarity from the local readers.

The second scene commenced by the capitalized entry of “BUT HOW CAN THEY…”

established the predicament of Dona Lupeng of her outstanding curiosity of how the

norm is being disturbed by the nearing festival of St. John. A male patron saint

should be venerated, but the opposite is happening where women are empowered to

have messianic endeavors of generating natural phenomenon for the planting

season. Guido was introduced in this particular scene. A motley character, he added

substance to how women are empowered and further suggested such impression to

Doña Lupeng with his quixotic impression of women. I am reminded by the Cartoon

Network’s Johnny Bravo. In contrast to the first scene where the author slightly

advocated femininity more than its popular counterpart. This scene established a

whiff of a more male atmosphere. The author employed erotic descriptions of his

performers. Surgical in detail thus arousing, but not enough. This scene also

introduced Dona Lupeng’s revolting aura when she resisted the instruction of her

husband’s order to sit down.

The third scene inaugurated at the grandfather’s place. There was a social gathering

attended mostly by family members. This scene evidenced the purpose of why the

character of Guido was conceived. He was inoculated in the story to supply the

dilemma in Dona Lupeng. It happened in their rambling moments in this scene.

Women according to this European educated Don Juan are meant to be adored and

handled with care like some china wares, to be placed on a pedestal and to be

worshipped. This strengthened the political views of Lupeng with regard to gender
issues. Femininity is likewise as powerful as masculinity. The infusion of the feminist

idea that one is not born but rather becomes a woman attitude was slowly being

hungrily digested. Guido was abnormal relative to the times and stead of his

existence when patriarchy was the popular movement in society. Don Paeng noticed

this abnormality.

The fourth scene marks the consummation Lupeng’s virginity of the boggling

gender-political issues that she has been wondering all along. This is a presumption.

The mood observed by her husband is somewhat translating a declaration of

newfound insights which I suspect could have been brought about by the early

conversation with Guido. She is now seeing a bright light beyond the limbo of

uncertainty. Guido’s far out thought of women supplemented the heating curiosity of

Dona Lupeng of the Tatarin to go beyond boiling point. The Doña’s curiosity and

persistence to attend the Tatarin inadvertently performed to mask her feminine/nist

power. Despite the Don’s resistance, she was able to make him grant her desire to

go to the festival.

“THE CULT OF THE TATARIN” phrase commence the fifth scene. It briefly described

Tatarin as a three day festival with the commencement of the feast of St. John

followed by the two-day celebration of womanhood in a man’s feast. The scene tries

to exude a more festive mood than the feast for the patron itself. It is like the

awaited cockfight of Jaro Fiesta where it is a much more awaited event than the

mass to celebrate the feast of The Blessed Mother of Candles itself; or the Ati-atihan

in the feast of the Santo Niño. This is also happening in this scene, where the final

ritual of metamorphosing women is the most important rite in the Tatarin. This is

women’s day with St. John as their mascot. The ritual is somewhat chaotic, as if the

women were like sharks in feeding-frenzy. Don Paeng became their victim when he

acted his protest over his wife’s self-determined demeanor to join in the dancing

crowd. In a pool of estrogen and progesterone, a testosterone is nothing.

The sixth scene of the short-story took place in the couple’s home; Don and Doña

Paeng’s home. The final contention of the sexes. The 12th round of gender boxing. On

the blue corner, the adam of the species, Don Paeng; and on the red, the eve of the

species, Doña Lupeng. Venus vs. Apollo. The bell rang to signify the fight. Doña

Lupeng threw a jab “What are you going to do Rafael?”. Don Paeng countered with a

hook, “I am going to give you a whipping”…. This exchange of verbal punches and

uppercuts continued until Doña Lupeng was declared victor by a whooping K.O. Don

Paeng eventually surrendered his highly-priced male pride to crawl like a lizard and

kiss the feet of Doña Lupeng. FEMININITY WON!!!

This is the end of one of the most intoxicating short-stories I have ever read. What

can I expect from a Nick Joaquin anyway? Intoxicating elixirs as inputs, intellectual

intoxications as outputs. For a lowly minded being like me, it is hard to understand

the story unless I indulge myself into intoxicating activities he patronizes. This is my

passport in becoming indulged in similar vantage point as the author. To reach him

is to meet him in the lands of the high spirited. The place of St. Michael. The

portrayal of St. John in this story is to divert our attention from his saint… Saint

Michael.

Nick Joaquin died a couple of years ago. As a tribute, I wish I have made him happy

at least by reading one of his stories. I hope that he is at peace to whatever place he

is now, a place where wine, whisky, and beer is overflowing and free. I hope there is

milk there when my turn come. Colustrum… mmmm. J