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11/12
21st Century Literature from the
Philippines and the World

QUARTER 2
WEEK 2

Capsulized Self-Learning Empowerment Toolkit

Schools Division Office of Zamboanga City

Region IX – Zamboanga Peninsula
Zamboanga City

“Unido, Junto avanza con el EduKalidad Cree, junto junto puede!”

Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School
 1

CapSLET
Capsulized Self-Learning Empowerment Toolkit

21st
Century
Literature
from the
SUBJECT &
GRADE/LEVEL Philippines QUARTER 2 WEEK 2 DAY -----------------------
and the dd/mm/yyyy

World

Grade 11/12
TOPIC Anthology of 21st Century World Literature: Asia
Identify representative 21st Century literary texts and authors
from Asia.
Objectives:
LEARNING Code: ∗ Identify key literary personalities from Asia;
COMPETENCY EN12Lit-IIa-22 ∗ list the merits of the Man Asian Literary Prize; and
∗ deduct Asian attitudes, customs and or traditions
from a sample text.

IMPORTANT: Do not write anything on this material.

UNDERSTAND
Representative Text from Asia

Asian literature encompasses the rich and widely diverse cultural and ethnic heritages found in
such countries as China, India, Japan, Vietnam, Korea, and more. Through translation, the unique
cultures of Asia are shared through a larger global audience. Family, migration and life in the midst
of evolving socio-political dynamics are some of the common themes of literary works produced in
the 21st Century so far. The continent has so far produced the following winners of the Nobel Prize in
Literature: Rabindranath Tagore (India, 1913), Yasunari Kawabata (Japan, 1968), Kenzaburo Oe
(Japan, 1994), Gao Xingjian (China, 2000), Mo Yan (China, 2012) and Kazuo Ishiguro (Japan,
2017).
The Man Asian Literary Prize was an annual
literary award from 2007 and 2012, given to the best
novel by an Asian writer, either written in English or
translated into English. It aims “to significantly raise
international awareness and appreciation of Asian
literature.”

Bi Feiyu (1964- ) spent six years as a journalist at Nanjing Daily

and co-wrote the script for Zhang Yimou's Shanghai Triad. He has
won the Lu Xun Prize for Literature twice and the 2011 Mao Dun
Prize for Massage, China’s highest national literary award. His
novel, The Moon Opera as translated by Howard Goldblatt was
longlisted for the 2008 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. His
second novel, Three Sisters won the 2010 Man Asian Literary
Prize.

SAQ-1: How can a novel in English represent Asian culture?

SAQ-2: Why do you think it is important to read 21 st Century literary pieces from Asia?
Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School
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Let’s Practice! (Write your answers on a separate sheet.)

Published in 2010, the novel Three Sisters is set in rural China in the 1970s and tracks the
lives of three sisters - Yumi, Yuxiu and Yuyan. The book is divided into three parts, each centering
on one of the three women. In this excerpt, the village Party Secretary's oldest daughter, Yumi, meets
her future husband, Peng Guoliang, for the first time.

Directions: The following words in bold that found in the excerpt of Bi Feiyu’s Three Sisters below.
Identify their meaning by choosing the letter of the correct answer.

1. The expression on his face put her at ease, though she was fidgeting bashfully.
A. make small hand or feet movements to show anger
B. make small hand or feet movements to show confidence
C. make small hand or feet movements to show fear
D. make small hand or feet movements to show nervousness

2. To the villagers outside the door she was a pitiful sight.

A. admirable
B. beautiful
C. miserable
D. pleasant

3. The climax passed and the tense mood dissipated.

A. disappear
B. evolved
C. strengthened
D. worsened

4. The air was so hot and in constant oscillation, it was as if a private sun hung above each of
their heads.
A. repeated movement from one position to another
B. slow movement over a period of time
C. staying in place or not moving
D. zigzagging back and forth

5. This sense of fright was augmented with complicated feelings of hope and anxiety.
A. decreased in value or size
B. increased in value or size
C. labelled in value or size
D. retained in value or size

6. A sigh of relief emanated from the depths of her heart.

A. to be removed from
B. to be studied from
C. to emerge from
D. to obtain from

(Translated from Mandarin Chinese to English by Howard Goldblatt)

The arrival of Yumi brought the story to a climax. After the women had taken her brother
away from her they opened a path to her home and dragged her along it. This was a scene they had
been awaiting for a long time, and once it had been acted out they would all breathe easier. So they
walked her home, one step at a time; she didn’t have to do anything but lean back and let the others
do all the work. When she reached the gate her courage abandoned her and she refused to take
another step. A couple of the bolder young maidens pushed her up until she was standing right in
front of Peng Guoliang.

The crowd thought he might actually salute her, but he didn’t. Nor did he snap to attention.
He was, in fact, barely able to stand, as he just kept opening and closing his mouth. When Yumi
sneaked a look at him, the expression on his face put her at ease, though she was fidgeting
Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School
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bashfully. Beet-red cheeks made her eyes seem darker than ever, sparkling as they tried to hide
from view. To the villagers outside the door she was a pitiful sight; they could hardly believe that
the bashful girl they were looking at was actually Yumi. In the end, it seemed, she was just a girl.
So, with a few lusty shouts from the crowd, the climax passed and the tense mood dissipated. Of
course they were happy for Peng Guoliang, but it was Yumi who was really on their minds.

Wang Lianfang walked out to treat the men in the crowd to cigarettes and even offered one
to the son of Zhang Rujun, who was cradled in his mother’s arms, looking foolish as only a baby
boy can. Wang tucked the cigarette behind the boy’s ear.

“Take it home and give it to your daddy,” he said.

They’d never seen him be so polite, though clearly that was meant as a joke. A chorus of
laughter made for a delightful atmosphere before Wang shooed the crowd away and, with a sigh of
relief, shut the door behind them.

Shi Guifang sent Peng Guoliang and Yumi into the kitchen to boil some water. As an
experienced housewife, she knew the importance of a kitchen to a young couple. First meetings
always turned out the same, with a pair of shy and unfamiliar youngsters seated behind the stove,
one pumping the bellows while the other added firewood, until the heat turned their faces red and
slowly loosened them up. So Guifang opened the kitchen door and told Yuying and Yuxiu to go
somewhere else. The last thing she wanted was for the other girls to hang around the house. Except
for Yumi, not one of her daughters knew how to behave around people.

While Yumi was lighting a fire, Peng Guoliang gave her a second gift. The first, in
accordance with an age-old custom, had to be a bolt of fabric, some knitting yarn, or something
along those lines. By coming with a second set of gifts, he showed himself to be different from
others. He gave her a red-barreled Hero-brand fountain pen and a bottle of Hero-brand blue-black
ink, a pad of forty-weight letter paper, twenty-five envelopes, and a Chairman Mao pin that glowed
in the dark. There was a hint of intimacy attached to all the gifts, each of which, at the same time,
represented a cultured and progressive spirit. He placed them all on top of the bellows, beside
which he had laid his army cap, with a star that shone bright and deep red. With all these items
arrayed on the bellows, silence spoke more loudly than words. Peng Guoliang worked the bellows,
each forceful squeeze heating up the fire in the stove. Flames rose into the air, like powerful pillars,
moving from side to side each time he brought his hands together. For her part, Yumi added rice
straw to the pillars of fire, moving in concert with him, as if by design, and creating a moving
tableau. When the straw fell from the fire tongs onto the flames, it first leaped into the air, then
wilted and turned transparent before finally regaining color and creating both heat and light. The
two stove tenders’ faces and chests reddened rhythmically from the flames; their breathing and the
rising and falling of their chests, too, had a rhythmic quality, though both required adjustments and
extra control. The air was so hot and in constant oscillation, it was as if a private sun hung above
each of their heads, all but baking them, in jubilant fashion, a sort of heated tenderness. Their
emotions were in chaos, rising and falling in their breasts. There was confusion, at least a little, and
something in the air that could easily have led to tears, here one moment and then gone the next.

Yumi knew she was in love, and as she gazed into the fire, she couldn’t stop the flow of
warm tears. Peng Guoliang noticed, but said nothing. Taking out his handkerchief, he laid it on
Yumi’s knee. But instead of using it to dry her tears, she held it up to her nose. It smelled faintly of
bath soap, and nearly made her cry out loud. She managed to hold back, but that only increased the
flow of tears. Up to that moment they hadn’t exchanged a single word and hadn’t touched one
another, not even a finger. That suited Yumi perfectly. This is what love is supposed to be, she told
herself, quietly sitting close but not touching, somewhat remote but in silent harmony. Close at
hand, though longing in earnest and calling to mind some distant place. As it should be.

Yumi’s glance fell on Peng Guoliang’s foot, which she could see was a size 42. No question
about it. She already knew his sizes, all of them. When a girl falls for a boy, her eyes become
measuring tape. Her gaze stretches out to take a measurement, then, when that’s done, snaps right
back.

Custom dictated that Peng Guoliang not stay under the same roof before Yumi became his
wife. But Wang Lianfang was in the habit of breaking rules and dedicated to transforming social
Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School
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traditions.

“You’ll stay here,” he announced.

He took great pleasure in seeing Peng Guoliang walk in and out of the yard; his presence
created an aura of power around the house and brought him high honor.

“It’s not proper,” Shi Guifang said softly.

Wang Lianfang glared at her and said sternly, “That’s metaphysical nonsense.”

So Peng Guoliang took up residence in the Wang home and stayed put. When he wasn’t
eating or sleeping, he spent his time behind the stove with Yumi. What a wonderful spot that was. A
sacred spot for village lovers. He and Yumi were talking by this time, though the strain on her was
considerable, since words in the national dialect, putonghua, kept cropping up in his speech. She
loved the way it sounded, even if she hadn’t mastered it, because those few added words conjured up
distant places, a whole different world, and were made for talk between lovers. On this particular
evening the fire in the belly of the stove slowly died out and darkness crept over them, frightening
her. But this sense of fright was augmented with complicated feelings of hope and anxiety. Budding
love is cloaked in darkness, since there is no road map to show where it’s headed; neither partner
knows how or where to start, and that usually makes for awkward situations. They maintained a
respectful distance out of fear of touching, absorbed in feelings of anxiety.

Peng Guoliang reached out and took Yumi’s hand. At last, they were holding hands.
Admittedly, she was a little scared, but this was what she’d been waiting for. Letting Guoliang hold
her hand instilled in her the satisfaction of a job well done, and a sigh of relief emanated from the
depths of her heart. Strictly speaking, she was not holding his hand; her hand was caught in his. At
first his fingers were stiff and unbending, but slowly they came to life, and when that happened they
turned willful, sliding in between hers, only to back out, unhappily, seemingly in failure. But back
they came. The movements of his hand were so new to Yumi that she had trouble breathing. Then
without warning, he put his arms around her and covered her lips with his.

REMEMBER
Key Points

 Asian literature in the 21st Century tackles the universal themes of family and identity in the
face of a globalized society and fast-paced technology. It also includes tapping materials from
its historical and political pasts and how these helped shape the Asian society known today.
 In 1913, Rabrindanath Tagore from India became the first Asian to win a Nobel Prize and
also the first to win the same Prize for Literature. From 2007 to 2012, the Man Asian Literary
Prize recognized the best works of fiction from across 38 countries, and did so to promote
literary works to be translated in English to reach a wider reading audience. Bi Feiyu from
China won the said award in 2010 for his novel, Three Sisters.

TOPIC Anthology of 21st Century World Literature: Europe

Identify representative 21st Century literary texts and authors
from Europe.
Objectives:
LEARNING Code: ∗ List the merits of the European Union Prize for
COMPETENCY EN12Lit-IIa-22 Literature; and
∗ infer European attitudes, customs and or traditions
from a sample text.

UNDERSTAND
Representative Text from Europe
 European literature in the 21st Century feature material concerned with change, cross-border
movements, and the challenges presented by the traumas of the past, consequence of social and
economic failures, and the liberty and prosperity an open, united continent seem to promise can often
simply end in more struggle. Synonymous to Western Literature, many of the world’s foremost
literary artists are from Europe.
The European Union Prize for Literature is a
yearly initiative to recognize the best new and
upcoming authors in Europe. Launched in 2009 by the
European Commission, the Prize is open to the 41
countries presently involved in the Creative Europe
program. National juries in a third of the participating
countries determine their candidate authors, allowing
all countries and languages in a particular region of
Europe to be represented over a three-year cycle.
The Prize aims to:
 showcase and put a spotlight on Europe’s diverse wealth of contemporary fiction;
 raise the profile of winning authors outside their home country and help them cross borders
and reach broader readership;
 raise general awareness and stimulate interest in the whole book sector about the literary
diversity in Europe;
 promote actively the publishing, translation, selling and reading of books from other European
countries; and
 encourage transnational circulation of literature, both in Europe and beyond.

Benedict Wells (1984- ) from Bavaria, Germany, published his first

novel Becks letzter Sommer in 2008 which received widespread
acclaim and won the Bayerischer Kunstförderpreis that year. This was
followed in 2009 by his second novel, Spinner. His third novel Fast
genial became a 2011 bestseller in Germany. Wells’ fourth novel Vom
Ende der Einsamkeit was published in February 2016. It remained on
the German bestseller list for more than 80 weeks and was awarded the
European Union Prize for Literature. His books have been translated
into 27 languages.

SAQ-1: How important is European literature in defining 21 st Century literature?

SAQ-2: Why do you think it is important to read 21 st Century literary pieces from Europe?

Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School
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Let’s Practice! (Write your answers on a separate sheet.)

Released in 2016 as Vom Ende der Einsamkeit, the novel The End of Loneliness by
Benedict Wells (translated from German by Charlotte Collins in 2019) features Jules Moreau and his
siblings, Marty and Liz who after losing their parents in an accident are enrolled in the same boarding
school, where they grow distant from each other. Jules becomes isolated, until he meets Alva.

Directions: The following words in bold are found in the excerpt of Benedict Wells’ The End of
Loneliness below. Identify their meaning by writing the letter of the correct answer.

1. You shared a spartan room with 2. At mealtimes we wolfed down all that we
strangers who sometimes became friends. could; it was never enough.
E. very comfortable A. eat angrily
F. very luxurious B. eat comfortably
G. very simple C. eat greedily
H. very ugly D. eat joyfully

7. Particularly criminal cases washed up at the 11. There were moments when I noticed matte
boarding school like flotsam and jetsam. evening light falling into a dingy corridor.
A. discarded materials A. like marble
B. expensive items B. plastic quality
C. special decors C. shining shimmering
D. underwater treasure D. without a shine

8. The local kids looked on in bewilderment 12. There were moments when I noticed matte
as the crazies invaded their idyllic village. evening light falling into a dingy corridor.
A. confusion A. airy
B. excitement B. distant
C. happiness C. gloomy
D. indifference D. well-lit

9. The local kids looked on in bewilderment as 13. Something suddenly cinched together
the crazies invaded their idyllic village. inside me.
A. ancient A. detected
B. hidden B. disconnected
C. peaceful C. loosely connected
D. troubled D. securely connected

10. The word ‘home’ meaning more 14. It was a muggy summer day.
lunatic asylum than boarding school. A. airy and fresh
A. church convent B. rainy and fragrant
B. faculty workroom C. warm and humid
C. mental hospital D. windy and cold
D. prison cell

(Translated from German into English by Katy Derbyshire)

The home my siblings and I were sent to after our parents’ death was not one of the elite
boarding schools we might have imagined to begin with, complete with tennis courts, hockey
pitches and pottery studios. It was a cheap state-run institution in the countryside, consisting of two
grey buildings and a canteen, all on the grounds of the local grammar school. We went to school
with the country kids in the mornings and we spent the afternoons and evenings in our rooms, by
the lake or on the football pitch. You got used to the barracked life, but even after years it could
still be depressing when the day pupils went home to their families after class while you had to stay
behind in the home like a prisoner, feeling like you had some kind of defect. You shared a spartan
room with strangers who sometimes became friends. You had to change rooms at the end of each
year. It was difficult to restrict your whole life to so little time and space; we had plenty of
arguments but there were also conversations that went on for nights on end. Very occasionally,
we’d talk about really important things, things we’d never have repeated by daylight, but mostly all

Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School
 7
we talked about was teachers and girls.

‘Did she look over at me at dinner?’ or, ‘What, you don’t know her? Jesus, Moreau, she’s
the best-looking girl in the whole bloody school.’

A lot of the boarders had had issues at home or failed at another school; some had taken
drugs. Now and then, particularly criminal cases washed up at the boarding school like flotsam and
jetsam. As a state institution, it was obliged to take in almost anyone. The local kids looked on in
bewilderment as the crazies invaded their idyllic village. ‘Are you from the home?’ they’d ask, the
word ‘home’ meaning more lunatic asylum than boarding school. At mealtimes we wolfed down all
that we could; it was never enough. There was a hunger inside us that could never quite be
satisfied. There were rumors in plenty, though; a constant white noise of gossip, registering
precisely who spoke to whom, what friendships came about and who was popular with the girls.
Not every change was approved of. There were new clothes shown off proudly by their owners and
then banished to the back of wardrobes if they hadn’t gone down well. Some boarders tried to
cultivate a new image over the summer holidays, returning from home with fresh confidence, but
most of them went back to their old selves in a matter of days. You were only ever the person other
people thought you were.

While I had felt secure in my innermost self over the previous years, now there were
moments when I noticed matte evening light falling into a dingy corridor or the trees spreading a
ghostly shadow over the land in the dusk, and then something suddenly cinched together inside me.
The thought that I was on a planet shooting through space at incredible speed was as shocking to
me as the new, disturbing realization that dying was inevitable. My fears grew like a spreading
fissure. I began to be afraid of the dark, afraid of death, afraid of eternity. These thoughts drove a
thorn into my world and the more often I dwelt on it all, the more I grew apart from my often
untroubled, cheerful classmates. I was alone. And then I met Alva.

In the first few days at the new school, I made a joke in class. At my old school that had
been expected of me, but even as I steered towards the punchline it became clear that it wouldn’t
work here. I looked at the unfamiliar faces of my classmates and realized that my confidence had
evaporated, and at the end of the joke no one laughed. That sealed my role. I was the odd new boy
who didn’t care what clothes he put on in the morning and who got his words twisted when he was
nervous: ‘farecree’ would come out instead of ‘carefree’, for example. So I barely said a word so as
not to end up the laughing stock of the class, and sat isolated in the back row. Until a girl sat down
next to me, six weeks later.

Alva had copper-colored hair and horn-rimmed glasses. At first glance a shy, graceful
country child who copied down the notes on the board using different colored pencils. And yet
there was something else about her. There were days when Alva seemed deliberately to avoid the
other children. Then she’d stare darkly out of the window, entirely absent. I didn’t know why she
wanted to sit next to me; we didn’t speak a word to each other. Her friends giggled when they
looked back at us, and two weeks later I was on my own in the corner again. As surprisingly as
she’d arrived, Alva had moved to another seat.

From then on I often looked over at her in class. When the teacher called her up to the front
I watched her standing uneasily by the board, her hands behind her back. I listened to her gentle
voice and stared at her red hair, her glasses, her white skin and her pretty, pale face. What I liked
most of all, though, was her front teeth, one of which was slightly askew. Alva tried not to open her
mouth too wide when she spoke so that no one would see it, and she held a hand in front of it when
she laughed. But sometimes she’d smile; then she didn’t pay attention and you could see her wonky
incisor, and I loved that. My entire life consisted of casting glances at her across the classroom, and
when she finally looked back I would look away, shamefaced and happy.

A few months later, though, there was an incident. It was a muggy summer day and the
teacher in our last class let us watch a video, an adaptation of a book by Erich Kästner. Alva started
crying in the middle of the film. She sat huddled on her seat, her shoulders quaking, and eventually
emitted a sob. The other kids noticed her then as well. The teacher hastily stopped the video – on a
scene in a holiday camp – and rushed over to her. As the two of them left the classroom, I caught a
glance of Alva’s reddened face. I think we were all shocked but hardly anyone said anything. Only
one person commented, saying Alva’s father never came to parents’ evenings and was a strange
Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School
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man; maybe that had something to do with it. I often thought of that comment but I never
mentioned it to Alva. Whatever it was, her suffering must have played out under cover and she kept
it a secret from then on.

A few days later, I was walking from the school building to the home.

‘Jules, wait!’ Alva tugged at my shirt until I turned around. She walked with me to the
entrance to the boarding section.

‘What are you doing now?’ she asked as we stood uncertainly outside the door. She always
spoke very quietly, meaning you had to lean down towards her. Even though she was a day pupil
and lived with her parents, she seemed not to want to go home.

I looked at the clouded sky. ‘Don’t know… Probably listen to music.’

She didn’t look at me but she blushed.

‘Do you want to come with me?’ I asked, and she nodded.

To my relief, my roommates weren’t in. I had inherited my mother’s record player and
music collection, about 100 albums: Marvin Gaye, Eartha Kitt, Fleetwood Mac and John Coltrane.

I put on Nick Drake’s Pink Moon, one of my mother’s favorite records. I’d hardly been
interested in music before but now I had a moment of happiness every time the needle touched the
vinyl with that crackle.

Alva listened with intense concentration, her expression barely changing. ‘I like it a lot,’ she
said. Strangely, she hadn’t sat down on a chair but on my desk. She took a book out of her
backpack and began reading it wordlessly, as though she were at home in my room. I was pleased
she felt so comfortable around me. The afternoon sun broke through the clouds and bathed the
room in cognac-colored light.

‘What are you reading?’ I asked after a while. ‘Is it good?’

‘M-hm.’ Alva nodded and showed me the cover: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. She
was 11, like me. I went on watching her immersed in her reading. Her eyes raced along the lines,
left to right and then back again, incessantly.

Eventually she closed the book and inspected my belongings. A strange being that had
found its way accidentally to my room and studied the Spider Man comics and cameras on my shelf
with interest. She picked up first the Mamiya and then the newer models my father had often used
in the last years of his life. She touched all the objects deliberately, as though wanting to make
certain they were real.

‘I’ve never seen you taking photos.’

I shrugged. Alva reached for a family photo showing my mother and father.

‘Your parents are dead.’

That sentence surprised me; I think I even turned off the music instantaneously. I hadn’t
told anyone anything about it since I’d been at the home. ‘Why do you think that?’ I asked.

‘I asked a teacher.’

‘Why?’

She didn’t answer.

‘Yes, they died six months ago.’ It was as though I had to ram a spade into frozen ground
for every word.
Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School
 9

Alva nodded and looked me in the eye for a long time, an unusually long time, and I’ll
never forget the way we were able to cast a glance at each other’s inner worlds. For a brief moment
I saw the pain hidden behind her words and gestures and she got an idea in return of what I kept
deep inside me. But we didn’t go any further. Each of us stayed on the other’s threshold and we
asked no questions of one another.

REMEMBER
Key Points

 European literature is synonymous to Western Literature because modern literature was

developed in the said continent. In the 21st Century, European literature features works with
subjects and themes on change, cross-border movements, and the memories of the past, the
effects of social and economic failures, and the struggle of living in an open and “united”
continent.
 Since 2009, the European Union Prize for Literature has recognized the best upcoming
authors in the genre of fiction from 41 participating European countries. It aims to promote
these literary pieces to a wider reading audience through translation.

Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School
 10

For further readings:

WEBSITES
Source: “Benedict Wells, European Union Prize for Literature, 2016, accessed
August 01, 2020, https://www.euprizeliterature.eu/authors/benedict-wells

Source: “Bi Feiyu,” Chinese Literature in Translation, n.d., accessed July 31, 2020,
https://paper-republic.org/pers/bi-feiyu/

Source: “European Union Prize for Literature,” European Commission,

n.d., accessed August 01, 2020, https://ec.europa.eu/programmes/creative-
europe/actions/literature-prize_en

Source: “Extract: Three Sisters by Bi Feiyu,” Original Writing, August 18, 2008, accessed
July 31, 2020, https://www.theguardian.com/2008/aug/18/originalwriting.chineseliterature

Source: “The End of Loneliness,” Benedict Wells, trans. Katy Derbyshire, 2016,
accessed August 01, 2020, https://www.euprizeliterature.eu/authors/benedict-wells
REFERENCE/S
Source: “The Man Asian Literary Prize,” The Culture Trip, November 14, 2015, accessed July 31,
2020, https://theculturetrip.com/asia/articles/the-man-asian-literary-prize/

Source: “‘Three Sisters,’ by Bi Feiyu,” Fan Wu, August 08, 2010, accessed July 31,
2020, https://www.sfgate.com/books/article/Three-Sisters-by-Bi-Feiyu-3179332.php

IMAGES
Source: Asia-Europe Foundation, The Man Asian Literary Prize, digital art, February
02, 2012, accessed July 31, 2020, https://culture360.asef.org/man-asian-literary-prize

Source: China.org, Bi Feiyu, photograph, August 29, 2013, accessed July 31,
2020, http://www.china.org.cn/arts/citc/2013-08/29/content_29862754.htm

Source: European Commission, European Union Prize for Literature, digital art, n.d.,
accessed August 01, 2020, https://ec.europa.eu/programmes/creative-
europe/actions/literature-prize_en

Source: Fantastic Fiction, Benedict Wells, photograph, n.d., accessed August 01, 2020,
https://www.fantasticfiction.com/w/benedict-wells/

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Written by: GOMER D. MANGCOPA (SST-II) DPLMHS Stand-Alone Senior High School