Greg Brillantes Gets His Due: Godfather of Philippine Speculative Fiction Is National Artist

(SPOT.ph) 1932: The Philippines had just made the painstaking half-step from an American territory to a self-governing Commonwealth, a transition whose shadow still colors our life today. Born into that transition period on December 18 of that same year, Gregorio C. Brillantes would grow up to write about what it left behind — stories about poverty, Philippine urban life, and the moral uncertainty of everything post-war. These stories would land him eventually in the Palanca Hall of Fame, and now, almost a year after his death, the title of National Artist for Literature.

This recognition, some feel, has been a long time coming. In the past, Brillantes already had the support of his now-fellow National Artists for Literature, such as Dr. Gémino H. Abad, who once wrote: “From The Distance to Andromeda to The Apollo Centennial... over that 17-year period, it can justly be said that Brillantes is—without intent of invidious comparison—the major figure among the young writers of his generation.”

And yet the man himself, according to his children, could barely be convinced to attend his own book launch at one point.

Greg's love of the written word began to blossom when he at first rifled through old issues of The Philippines Graphic. It wouldn't be long before thumbing through pages turned into intense study.

"As a young boy... he discovered old issues of Philippines Free Press and Philippines Graphic, reading them voraciously and clipping stories," reads a tribute from his nephew Joey Brillantes, posted on Facebook. "These early encounters with literature awakened in him a deep curiosity about narrative, voice, and character."

In college, he would contribute to The GUIDON, revealing an observant and at times even funny lens through which he saw the Philippines' relationship with America, or at least its military and congress. Apart from stories, he would submit comics, quick and to the point, though layered with subtext of life in Manila as he would come to know it.

After his stint at university, he was published in Philippines Free Press, and later the Asia-Philippines Leader, the Manila Review, and Midweek, combining sharp observations on geopolitics with masterful prose that made him hard to ignore. "Brillantes set new standards for reportage and critical commentary," wrote editor and collaborator Jonathan O. Chua. His peers in that realm would be the likes of Nick Joaquin, Jose F. Lacaba, and 'the greatest editor of the time,' Teodoro Locsin Sr. These relationships would follow him to the very publication that gave new color to his childhood, The Philippines Graphic, where he served as an essayist and editor.

One of the things to note about Brillantes is his dedication to the short story when it came to fiction. Where some might dismiss it as a limiting choice, there seemed to be a magic he both found in and added to that specific form; it was where he was most comfortable, he decided, after attempts at poetry and exactly one novel, which A) never saw the light of day and B) Brillantes succeeded in trying not to think about.

Before you dive in to his work, a fair warning: His references and elements of the divine and fantastic may not be as easily processed today, not that they were a cakewalk in his day, either. His work is on the level of required reading in college literary courses, which recent studies have shown we've collectively fallen short of. All that to say, he was not known to be a super straightforward storyteller; for him, the end of a story did not have to leave the reader feeling any exceptional amount of clarity or narrative satisfaction, which is one of the reasons his writing stands out.

But (capital B), if other works by other writers have been called 'groundbreaking,' his modern classic The Apollo Centennial (1972, rereleased in 1980 as part of a collection) was and has always been declared 'path-breaking.' It would become his signature for his stories to be unique and sprawling not only in terms of premise, but in framework and execution. That still makes him a rewarding read in terms of viscerality, if not an easy one.

For the unfamiliar, the story follows farmer Arcadio Nagbuya and his two sons in the year 2069 as it approaches the 100th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. The protagonists make an arduous journey to see the centennial exhibit in the city, grappling with military checkpoints and the state-mandated Frankenstein of a language, 'Tagilocan.' In this world, other Philippine languages have been squashed and censored; in this world, the Marcos dictatorship never ended.

Even with the signature style of Brillantes, this short story is still the simplest and most comprehensive critique of authoritarianism, while being an excellently written story on its own.

What might stand out to those who knew him is that, while Brillantes was not stingy with praise for his peers, the good word would always make its way back to him through everyone else; he was known to give fresh perspectives, which is unsurprising for the man known today as 'the godfather of Philippine speculative fiction.' "He converted the Filipino writer into a sensitive, conscientious, craft-obsessed, angry artist," says fellow writer Angelo R. Lacuesta of the mentor "to everyone today and tomorrow."

The latter years of his life had him giving sardonic advice to fellow and aspiring writers: "Just don't break your legs," he'd say, following a fall in 2015 and a hip injury in 2017, which would part him from the regular rides with his beloved Mercedes Benz.

Ultimately, this champion of Philippine literature passed away on the 26th of September 2026, at the age of 92. He is survived by his wife, fellow writer Lourdes “Baby” Brillantes, and their daughters, Patricia Brillantes-Silvestre, Chi Brillantes, and Alicia Brillantes-Flores.

But while some may mourn him as one of the last of the old guard to go, he did not necessarily see a reason to despair. He hoped until his last that the next generation of writers would take a good hard look at what's happening around them: "I want [you] to look to the future, like in the story where the man and his two sons are passing the river and they run into someone from the past, but they are going to the future." And it ought to be good advice; his alma mater considers him still to be one of the best writers they have ever produced.

The Collected Stories of Gregorio C. Brillantes—half a century's worth of Philippine life in the wake of a World War—is available via the Ateneo de Manila University Press.