Written by Toni Potenciano
Illustrated by Chapy Fadullon
Written by Toni Potenciano
Illustrated by Chapy Fadullon
“History as it recedes becomes confused. By raising the past to the level of imagination—by the leap that comes from knowledge itself and the respect for truth that is all that matters in life—a novel can preserve the essence of the past and give us a sense, a vision, of what we are.”
—Zacarias Clemente in The Three-Cornered Sun by Linda Ty-Casper, 1979
Linda Ty-Casper’s The Three-Cornered Sun traces the events of the Philippine Revolution of 1896, from the outbreak of the revolution at Balintawak to the pact at Biak-na-Bato in 1897. Ty-Casper merges recorded history and the memory of Gabriela Paez-Viardo de Velazquez, offering a fresh perspective on the Filipino colonial experience at the tail end of the Spanish occupation.
In 28 chapters, the novel navigates through contrasts and conflicts, both external and internal, as months pass, locations change, and the book’s central consciousness shifts. TTCS follows the Viardo family and those ensnared in their orbit. These characters present a diverse set of motives and perspectives about the revolution. When put together, they create a detailed picture of the Filipino in a time of crisis. Less about crafting the authoritative narrative of the Revolution itself, TTCS is an attempt to uncover what it means to be a Filipino in a time of conflict and how we are ultimately transformed by it.
Get your copy of The Three-Cornered Sun here.
Below is a character guide to supplement your reading of TTCS:
Blas is the Viardo family dilettante and hedonist. He is said to be the son that most resembles their father, a Portuguese nobleman who was described as “virile.” Prone to gossip and flamboyance, Blas could be mistaken for a Spanish official the way he is never seen without his pearl-encrusted cane and gold cufflinks. He is addicted to gambling, borrowing money from his brothers and various creditors, and recklessly losing it all at monte or at the bullring. His debts are often left to his wife, Amparo, who pays them with the money earned from the season’s harvest and what remains of the family estate.
In contrast to his son Cristobal, Blas is arguably the most politically indifferent character in the book. He views the revolution as a way to escape his debts and his wife, Amparo. He is willing to pledge loyalty to the side that approaches him first or to the side best poised to win. Despite their differences, father and son have a lot more in common than what is on the surface.
As the eldest Viardo brother, Angel took it upon himself early on to be the family’s provider. He worked his way from a lowly Binondo clerk to the legal front of wealthy Chinese merchants forbidden to own farms, ships, and buildings in the Philippines. He mastered the art of corruption: lining the pockets of the church and government in order to receive favors. This brownnosing and ill-acquired wealth gained the family a measure of privilege, although not quite enough for the standards of his egotistical wife Vitoria.
Angel cares most about appearances. Afraid to fall out of grace with the church or the Spanish officials, he’s learned to throw money at his problems, such as providing for Simeon’s family, paying off Blas’s debts, or offering to send the rebellious Cristobal to Europe. His stance on the revolution is driven by self-preservation to maintain the security and comfort of his world that he worked hard to achieve. While generally on the side of the Spaniards, Angel has given a token contribution to the revolutionaries in case they win.
The novel opens with Simeon Viardo, an ilustrado returning from Spain to a Philippines on the brink of violence. A man of peace, Simeon spent ten difficult years pushing forth reforms in the streets of Madrid and Barcelona to no avail. After watching his friends die from hunger and the cold, Simeon returns to Manila gaunt and emaciated, virtually unrecognizable to his family. His young son Fermin has become mute and his wife, Paz, has distanced herself completely, preferring the company of saints or caring for his blind mother.
Trapped in a spiritual agony over his failures, Simeon begins to question his stance on reform, wondering if any government could “deliver man from all his hungers, from misery and hopelessness” (Chapter 2). When the revolution breaks out, Simeon becomes unmoored—his politics of peace are now obsolete in a time of violence. For the rest of the novel, he remains trapped in the safety of the family home, tormented by his role in the revolution.