A powerful coming-of-age story about grief, guilt and the risks a Filipino-American teenager takes to uncover the truth about his cousin’s murder.
Jay Reguero plans to spend the last semester of his senior year playing video games before heading to the University of Michigan in the fall. But when he discovers that his Filipino cousin Jun was murdered as part of President Duterte’s war on drugs, and no one in the family wants to talk about what happened, Jay travels to the Philippines to find out the real story.
Hoping to uncover more about Jun and the events that led to his death, Jay is forced to reckon with the many sides of his cousin before he can face the whole horrible truth — and the part he played in it.
As gripping as it is lyrical, Patron Saints of Nothing is a page-turning portrayal of the struggle to reconcile faith, family and immigrant identity.

A very intriguing piece, indeed. As a pure-blooded Filipino, I am impressed with the unbiased take on this talked-about issue (the war on drugs) in my country.

The book is written from a first-person point of view. The pace is slow, so be prepared for a long read. The mood is a mix of drama, anguish and despair, which makes sense once you start reading. I highly believe the author offers a personal touch; the words and emotions seem to blend together from experience.

There are a lot of twists and turns that make the story quite perplexing. At one point, I wondered where the plot was heading and felt myself at a dead end. So, the need to re-read subplots is necessary. The book is quite ambitious in that a teenager is placed in a setting involving a mature, well-known social issue; doing so negates some of the story’s realism, yet the message is relayed in a purposeful way.

The attention to detail is impressive. The descriptions of settings, culture and values are as accurate as can be. Readers will experience new realizations, critical thinking (self-questioning) and thoughts on morality. I highly recommend it for those who love to read slow-burn, deep books.

– Kevin Velayo