Biography of charlson ong filipino

As a bar room skylark, Charlson Ong can pretty much handle the microphone with the ease and flair of a Grammy winner. As a novelist, I will let his laurels speak for themselves. As a short story writer, Charlson breaks the mold of convention by summoning the poet deep down within him, and the visual artist, too, for those glimmering attempts to paint in words some of the most beautiful scenes and lines ever to grace a book.

After publishing three collections of short fiction, this latest volume tops the others with its unmistakable literary sheen. You have got to hand it to Charlson Ong to tug at the heartstrings with every line, and bring the reader to places and traces of the past that appear ever more relevant today than they were then. And land of yellow earth and blue sky where a golden emperor once ruled.

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My grandmother lived in that land. In the mornings she bathed in a river where a green dragon once played, where a sad poet drowned reaching for the moon one night. But my grandmother had stolen the moon. She had scooped the moon in a wooden bowl and hidden it inside an earthen jar where it remains to this day. It is the curse of the poor poet that has plagued our family ever since, that has followed us across rivers and oceans.

Eleven stories make up this volume of short fiction, each one a jab into the labyrinthine byways of exemplary storytelling.