Reviews

Mas kilala si Chuckberry Pascual ng kaniyang mga mambabasa sa mga maiikling kuwento niya tulad ng “Ang Nawawala,” “Bayan ng mga Bangkay,” at “Hindi Ito Romansa.”

Kaya naman, mistulang kusinerong naghain ng bagong putahe si Pascual nang ilunsad niya ang “Mars, May Zombie!,” isang young adult novel na nakasentro ang kuwento sa gay teenager na si Mars matapos ang zombie outbreak noong 2020.

Tila tagumpay naman ang unang nobelang ito ni Pascual dahil nagkaroon pa ito ng sequel na pinamagatang “Mars, Maraming Zombie!” noong 2025.

“Nagtapos ang unang libro na puno ng pag-asa si Mars. Dito sa pangalawang libro, mag-uumpisa siya sa pagiging bigo at jaded,” lahad ni Pascual sa The Varsitarian.

The character of Bree herself is one of the novel’s genuine achievements—a queer protagonist whose queerness is present but not totalized, not the only thing about her, not a problem to be solved or a lesson to be taught but simply an aspect of who she is and how she moves through the world. The scenes in Mamita’s Magixalon, the salon that serves as Bree’s home base and found family, are among the novel’s most affecting, depicting queer community not as utopia but as a survival strategy, as the creation of kinship networks where biological kinship has failed, as the accumulation of chosen relationships that might catch you when you fall. If there is a politics of care in the novel, it is located here, in the recognition that we must create our own structures of support because the official structures—the police, the barangay government, the church—have failed us, have been captured by the very forces that produce disappearance.

“Daddy” by Chuckberry Pascual is not your typical queer novella.

It follows Ryan, a 44-year-old queer man who is stuck in difficult situations concerning his family, work, and relationships.

Ryan meets someone at the MRT restroom, which leads into a journey of self-reflection and identity.

“Daddy” is available on Shopee.

CREATIVE writing professor Chuckberry Pascual veers away from his typical young adult fiction in “Daddy,” a novella that unpacks the connotations of the term through the uncertainties of queer midlife.

The story follows Ryan, a 44-year-old queer man, caught between his sexuality, family, work, and relationships.

Ryan’s flawed, indecisive, and insecure character stems from his stagnation in both career and love life. He often finds himself left behind by younger, more accomplished colleagues and overlooked by potential partners due to his age.

The sense of inadequacy and self-doubt is evident across the novella’s 50 pages. Ryan reluctantly wrestles with the reality of growing older and its impact on his identity and relationships.

The act of writing down an experience that would have otherwise been silenced by a conservative society is already transgressive and so necessary. The fact that this book exists is already motivation enough to read it and of course, participate in the radicality of the queer written word. Essayists are often accused of navel gazing, but in a country with limited SOGIE education, perhaps we should look more closely, confronting ourselves and our society simultaneously.

Mars is clearly a pandemic novel. I can’t help but compare the hardship experienced during the early years of COVID-19 to what Mars and his team is experiencing; the disparity between social classes; government negligence, spreading of fake news, giving out ayuda (government aid) but with agenda, among others.

Both books are laugh-out-loud funny. Every comedic setup is perfect. I can imagine my own friends delivering the same jokes. Pascual has built up the characters so well. There was one scene where Billie fixed her floppy hat and pink scarf first before fighting the zombies. Pascual has mentioned this floppy hat so many times prior that when I read this scene I can imagine it so well. That simple action says a lot about Bey’s character.

Published by Avenida Books, Daddy explores the fictional life of Ryan, a queer man who, by chance, meets a stranger in the restroom of an MRT station. What starts as a chance encounter turns into a journey of discovery, exploration, and self-reflection.

Through [Daddy], Pascual unpacks what it means to grow older as a queer person in a society that often pushes unmarried individuals into the role of default caretaker. Yet Daddy insists that Ryan is not defined by expectation alone — he is someone with his own desires and dreams, and the right to pursue them.

The novella also layers in a rich recollection of hookup culture from the late ‘90s to the present, foregrounding queer urban life’s intimacies and struggles.

Bree has a heart of gold, and demonstrates ingenuity and empathy that would shame many a reader. Despite her own dire personal straits, she is kind and helpful, with a generosity of spirit that extends to both man and beast. She’s feisty, too, and won’t back down from a fight. But she knows how to play the long game, and never loses sight of who the real bad guys are. Having been powerless herself, she uses what little resources she has to help the people around her, without asking for anything in return. What largeness of soul, putting those with larger wallets to shame. And what a sense of humor!

By the end of the book, this reader was left with an aching emptiness, for it is all too clear what is missing in this literary microcosm of Filipino society: Equity and justice.

Pascual’s stories resonate loudly in 2025, as the institutionalized theft by politicians and their contractors is being exposed. Would that more of us could be like Bree, whose open eyes and heart are sorely needed in this country.

The wit is never cruel; the tenderness never cloying. Laughter comes first in Pascual’s comedy-crime fiction hybrids, then the sobering recognition that, like all good jokes, the punchline has teeth and truth. You keep turning pages because every disappearance suggests a larger absence you can’t quite name yet.

And that is the book’s very insistence. In a country where absence can feel like a habit, paying attention is an act of care. Ang Nawawala asks what else we have misplaced — people, chances, histories — and what it would take to claim them back.

The novel is also available in English as The Vanished, translated by Ned Parfan and published by Avenida Books.

Ang Nawawala by Chuckberry Pascual will not only have you turning the pages, but also laughing out loud and blinking back tears. Bree, a transwoman who works as a receptionist/ masseuse in Talong Punay’s barangay hall, starts to investigate a series of things that disappear in the district, such as a milkfish, a knife, and a ring.

As the mystery deepens, what emerges is a delightfully absurd series of interconnected short stories that straddle comedy and crime fiction. Ang Nawawala challenges readers not just to solve the mystery, but to reflect on the deeper question: what is really missing?

Ned Parfan translated the novel into English. The same publisher, Avenida Books, also released The Vanished.

In Ang Nawawalang Barangay, we follow the investigator from Talong Punay Bree as she tries to solve the case of mysterious disappearances in a local barangay. The protagonist then ends up uncovering these disappearances’ connection to a local religious group named Swalla. It’s a crime and mystery novel that meditates on concepts of faith, identity, and uneven power dynamics within contemporary Filipino life.

This anthology is a quiet yet powerful act of resistance, where each personal essay serves as a testament to the lived realities of LGBTQIA+ individuals navigating identity, memory, and belonging. Far from simple reflections, these narratives challenge dominant ideas of citizenship and visibility, offering instead a vision rooted in solidarity, shared struggle, and collective reimagining. The writers assert their presence not just in literature, but in the ongoing work of reshaping society and confronting systems of exclusion.

The novel is written in Tagalog. It revolves around Bree, a small-time investigator who looks into the disappearance of several individuals in her barangay. The novel is part mystery and part social commentary on local politics and religious groups. The book is outrageous and the writing is funny. Every comedic punchline is well-timed and well-delivered. I feel like I’m watching a stand-up comedy. It captures barangay life and politics, a close knit of people who grew up in the same place all their lives, very accurately. You can just imagine the chaos these people brings when faced with a problem.

Chuckberry Pascual has utilized a unique style of crime writing that is light and fun.  Many are fooled by the cover page of his book, as seen in the reviews of the online reading platform Goodreads. Some, at first, do not even categorize it as crime fiction because of its unusual titles, Ang mga Nawawalang Bangus, Ang Nawawalang Singsing, Ang Nawawalang Mukha, and Ang Nawawalang Payong (Pascual 2017). The investigation was done unprofessionally and sometimes coincidentally, hence allowing its characters and plot to be quirky. However, the light tone of the stories does not deficit the problems that are raised, such as discrimination, poverty, and theft.

These personal narratives are authored by contributors who, among others, are writers—mostly from the academe, authors of books and literary works, and teachers. The anthology, written largely in Tagalog, English, and Swardspeak, explores the diverse, multi-faceted, and complex gender-making intertwined with LGBTQIA+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersect, Asexual, and other sexual and gender identities) identity politics. “Plus/+, at Iba Plus, Maramihan” (Plus/+, and others, Plurality) in the title is emblematic of the editors’ formulation of LGBTQIA+ that invokes two meanings: (a) differential markings of LGBTQIA+ from heterosexuality where the assertion of being ‘other’ is a recognition of otherness (kaibahan), othering (ipinagkaiba), and being different; and (b) the recognition of the plurality of gender and sexual identities in the LGBTQIA+ spectrum and that there can be multiple lenses toward understanding gender identity and sexuality.

Fifteen nonfiction pieces populate the volume, offering a wide range of topics, writing styles, and even authors’ profiles, yet they are all centered on the plurality of LGBTQIA+ identities, both per letter/representation and as a continuously evolving global and local collective.

The anthology is edited by Rolando Tolentino—a critic, fictionist, and faculty member of the University of the Philippines Film Institute—and Chuckberry Pascual, who is a fictionist, playwright, and faculty member from the University of Santo Tomas. Tolentino highlights in the book’s introductory chapter one of the key qualities of nonfiction that separates it from other literary genres: the honesty it generates by drawing from the fullness of the author’s life and identity (3). To be more specific: “[T]he personal essay is a form where one confesses to oneself and to the public” (ibid.; translation mine). This characterization of form and literature as an honest confession is easily recognizable in the themes of the essays, which are as diverse as the colors and hues of the rainbow flag.

People love a good scare. A good horror story elicits a strong emotional response from the readers.  To be disturbed or emotionally affected suggests that the story has successfully tapped into the reader’s imagination. But it should not stop with the emotional response; an effective horror story should also resonate and prompt readers to reflect on the social relevance of the narrative. Chuckberry J. Pascual’s Bayan ng mga Bangkay has the ability to make readers reflect and linger.

May mga gaya ni Chuckberry Pascual na piniling maging gising sa gitna ng dilim sa halip na managinip dahil masyadong nakakabahala at nakakagambala ang mga nangyayari sa paligid. Kaya siguro tinablan siya ng takot. At habang ang iba sa atin ay mahimbing pa ring natutulog o nagtutulug-tulugan, itinala niya ang mga pangyayari na dapat ay nasaksihan natin sa koleksiyong ito ng maiikling kuwento. Para kung sakali mang biglang maalimpungatan ang sinoman, maigagala niya sa nakakasulasok at nakakasukang “Bayan ng mga Bangkay”.

Ibabalik ni Pascual ang nawalang tino ng bayan sa pamamagitan ng pananakot. At sigurado akong wala nang mas nakakatakot pa sa katotohanan na ang libro niyang ito ay kapirasong reyalidad na nag-aanyong katha.

The book offers an adventure you can’t resist devouring in one sitting. Pascual is both witty and considerate of his characters, perhaps aware that his readers may see themselves in Mars. And like all good coming-of-age stories, “Mars, May Zombie!” touches on identity, love, family, and the most necessary thing young people now must be armed with – hope.

The zombie allegory obviously makes parallelisms with the total lockdown on whole communities that was imposed at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. The division of zombie-stricken Philippine society into various “zones” connotes the segregation and class divisions that are par for the course in ordinary society, but which get heightened during emergencies. Which should underscore that “Mars, May Zombie!” may yet be the dystopian novel for the “new normal.”

Mars, May Zombie is by award-winning author Chuckberry J. Pascual, with the cover illustrated by artist Iñigo Fadul. The book revolves around the gay teen Marcelo “Mars” Manapat, who lives in a post-zombie apocalypse Philippines, along with a sassy best friend and an even sassier lola.

Chuckberry J. Pascual’s Bayan ng mga Bangkay is an inquiry of sorts into our ideas about crime set in contemporary times. The collection of short stories gives us a grim view of the social realities in the Philippines. It captures the individual in social limbo, caught up in the cultural violence which we’ve normalized in popular culture, social media, politics, and the COVID-19 lockdown.

This book of 57 chapters takes place in 2028, eight years after a zombie outbreak that divides the world into zones. The Red Zones are where the survivors are, the Black Zones belong to the zombies, the Blue Zones are where the affluent stay. Mars, along with Lola Vicky and best friend Bey are in search of stuff that may be exchanged—and a bathroom with water.

The book presents a fascinating analysis of Philippine standalone movie theaters as homosexual spaces. By approaching the homosexualization of these establishments through an innovative combination of literary and sociocultural analysis, the author conveys a range of understandings of the space. The use of literary texts as a form of ethnography provides an interesting entry point in understanding the queer and possibly liberating potential of the movie theater such that it is within the confines of this space where norms are suspended, blurred, and remade.

‘I think this book will be a comforting read for queer teens looking for a story about themselves, where the queer character doesn’t have to worry much about their queerness’

I haven’t had this much fun reading anything in some time. Chuckberry J. Pascual’s Mars, May Zombie! (2022, 386 pgs., pb, Adarna House) is a madcap caper of a novel. It’s got everything that makes a book great – a young protagonist/hero, a bad-ass fighter lola, adventure, quests, secrets – and zombies!

Uunahin ko ang pinakamakapal (382 páhiná!) na mahabàng kuwentong 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘡𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦! (Adarna House,2022) ni Chuckberry J. Pascual. Sa pamagat lang, alám natin katha ito, pantasya, at may impluwensiya ng Kanô horror. Pero kung ginawa rin sa Korea, bakit di puwede sa Pinas?

Hindi lang refleksiyon sa ating recent na karanasan ang Mars, kundi isa ring uri ng paghaharaya kung ano ang maaari nating gawin. Naniniwala ako na bukod sa pagtatala at pagninilay sa ating nakaraan at kasalukuyang kalagayan, may kapasidad din ang panitikan na maging behikulo para hitsurahan ang mga posibilidad sa hinaharap; sa kalagayan natin bilang tao, sa uri ng lipunan na pinapangarap nating lahat.

The stories in this volume are not only Pascual’s exploration of the genre, but his efforts at coming to terms with important issues by examining their shadow side. As queer lit, horror fiction, and social commentary, this book stands out as a distinctive and imaginative contribution to the public discourse and as a statement of the writer’s role in shaping and changing society.

Hilarious and brilliant, the stories show how Bree, a gay receptionist of Barangay Talong Punay, investigates the disappearances that have happened within the district. Not only does the collection tackle LGBTQ+ discrimination, but it also brings forth other issues, including corruption.

Bagamat sa unang tingin ay mas praktikal ang pagsalin ng isang akda mula sa rehiyonal o katutubong wika patungong Ingles, mahalaga ring maisalin ang mga akda natin sa Ingles patungong Filipino at iba pang wika sa Filipinas dahil maraming Filipino na ang hirap magbasa at mag-intindi ng Ingles. Mas marami ang nakakaunawa sa target language ni Chuck na Filipino.

Magaan ang Filipino ni Chuck. Filipino na talaga ito at hindi Tagalog dahil ginagamit niya ang Bisayang salita na “bana” para sa husband. Masakit kasi sa tenga, at magastos rin sa letra, ang “asawang lalaki.”

Ang Nawawala is a set of seven stories based on the crimes that happen in the fictional baranggay of Talong Punay. The protagonist is gay baranggay hall receptionist Bree, who investigates and acts as detective. Mystery and antics ensue.

Sa Pagpasok sa Eksena: Ang Sinehan sa Panitikan at Pag-aaral ng Piling Sinehan sa Recto, ginawang “lunsaran” ni Chuckberry Pascual (2016) para sa kaniyang etnograpiya ng mga sinehan sa Maynila ang mga tekstong pampanitikan na tumatampok sa sinehan bilang lunan ng gawaing homoseksuwal.

Matapang ang aklat na ito, binibigyan nito ng posibilidad ang mga bakla na suriin ang kanilang sariling karanasan sa lungsod at sa mas malawak na lipunan, para magpatuloy na makibaka at lumabas sa madidilim na sulok at espasyo, tungo sa ganap na paglaya, bilang bahagi ng mas malawak na lipunang patuloy na sinisiil ng iba’t ibang restriksiyon at prehuwisyong bunga ng napakaraming kaletsehan at kamangmangan.

Pascual recollects growing up in Malabon, formerly suburban area (now densely urbanized), being a child of parents who are migrant workers abroad, being fascinated by the sensationalist language of Tagalog tabloids, imagery of comics, and the cultural phenomenon that is Madonna.

Sa 15 kuwento, nahihiwalay ni Pascual ang kaniyang mga mambabasa sa mundong pamilyar at nagagawa itong bago—kuwento tungkol sa mga bakla na narinig sa kanto, tsismisan, paaralan—sa pamamagitan ng mahusay na paggamit at paglalaro ng wikang Filipino.

Sino ang “tagalabas” sa paksang pampanitikan? Para kay Pascual, ang “tagalabas” ay ang mga taong salat sa yaman ngunit nagpupursiging umukit ng sariling identidad na kinikilala ng lipunan. Sa akdang ito, nais bigyan ng boses ni Pascual ang mga “tagalabas.”