When reading becomes hoarding

By Noel Galon de Leon

When the Big Bad Wolf Book Sale returned to Iloilo for the second time, it did not simply bring a carnival of books. It brought with it the uncomfortable truth of how easily we Ilonggos can be seduced by the glitter of imported bargains while neglecting the voices closest to home. I walked into the venue and saw the frenzy, carts overflowing with glossy hardbounds, readers celebrating their haul as if the mere act of buying books equaled literacy, and social media flooded with photos of discounted Western titles. And yet, I could not shake the question. Where is this same excitement when our local writers launch their books, when small Iloilo publishers struggle to distribute Hiligaynon literature, or when independent bookstores quietly host readings that barely fill a room? The wolf promises accessibility but at what cost? It distracts us from our own narratives, from the urgency of nurturing a reading culture rooted in our language and identity. What troubles me most is not the presence of the wolf itself but our collective eagerness to feed it even if it means starving our own.

There is no denying the advantages of Big Bad Wolf. For many Ilonggos, this event makes books more accessible with prices that even students and families can finally afford. It introduces titles that are often unavailable in local stores, from specialized references to art collections to children’s books that ignite creativity. On the surface, the wolf appears to democratize knowledge and to create a grand fiesta of literature that seems to welcome everyone, regardless of class or background.

But as progressive readers, we must interrogate what lies beneath this glittering feast. The overwhelming dominance of imported books reinforces colonial preferences. We celebrate Western bestsellers while our own local writers struggle to find readers. Who will choose a Hiligaynon short story collection when foreign titles are always cheaper and more visible? Who will sustain our local publishers when events like this set impossible standards of pricing and spectacle?

Equally troubling is the consumerist culture disguised as literacy. The overflowing carts at Big Bad Wolf are not always signs of deeper reading but often of hoarding, books purchased for the sake of ownership rather than engagement. Literacy is reduced to a commodity rather than a practice of critical thinking or cultural connection. Even worse, small independent bookstores that carefully curate local and Filipino titles face displacement. They cannot compete with an international giant that swoops in with containers of discounted books and then leaves once the fanfare has ended.

As Ilonggo readers, we cannot deny our own complicity. We celebrate Big Bad Wolf with excitement, yet do we show the same level of enthusiasm for our local book fairs, literary festivals, or independent publishers? Do we take pride in posting about a novel by an Ilonggo author or a poetry collection written in Hiligaynon? Too often, the answer is no, or at best hesitant.

And while we are eager to support this global initiative, we must also step back and reflect. If books truly matter to us, should they not also deepen our connection to ourselves, to our culture, and to our local voices? Perhaps the greater challenge is not to chase every discounted title from abroad but to devote time, energy, and resources to our own literary ecosystem. Ilonggo and Filipino stories are struggling for recognition, and it is our responsibility to keep them alive. Supporting local literature is not simply an act of buying books. It is an act of cultural survival.

Thus, the return of Big Bad Wolf to Iloilo is not merely a celebration. It is also a wake-up call. It reminds us that access to books is important, but equally important is the question of which books we choose to read, support, and uplift. If we rely only on imported titles, we risk silencing our own narratives, erasing our literary traditions, and reducing Filipino literature to a mere footnote in our own homeland.

To nurture a genuine culture of reading in Iloilo, we must bring the spotlight back to our local writers, publishers, and bookstores. It is within their stories that our identity as readers and as a people is shaped and strengthened. The wolf may flood us with books, but it is our own storytellers who give us meaning, roots, and voice. The challenge, then, is not to reject the wolf completely but to ensure that even as we feast on its offerings, we do not forget to nourish our own.

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Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and educator at University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in both the Division of Professional Education and U.P. High School in Iloilo. He serves as an Executive Council Member of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts-National Committee on Literary Arts.