“Bratwurst, Batchoy & Book Deals: A Filipina’s Unfiltered Take on the Frankfurt Book Fair Frenzy”

By Maria Renker, Probably Too Honest for Her Own Good.. but wtf

"Writing Far, Writing Home" at the Frankfurter Buchmesse 2025

What do you get when you throw 230,000 book lovers, a jeepney, karaoke, a sold-out indie book (Bratwurst & Batchoy: A Love Story), and the loud literary lung capacity of the Filipino diaspora into one of the world’s most elite book fairs? You get Frankfurter Buchmesse 2025, but this time, make it Filipino, fabulous, and feral enough to worry your German neighbors. Initially, I was invited to moderate a few talks. That lasted about as long as a hot pandesal in a balikbayan box. Suddenly: “Sorry, no budget for honorariums.” Which would be cute if it weren’t also… untrue. Because apparently some people still got to moderate. Just not me. Or others who weren’t in the VIP tropahan circle. Let’s call it what it was: professional gatekeeping with a thin layer of bamboo-flavored diplomacy. “Ok lang naman magtrabaho, just tell me the truth.”

Honestly, good riddance. we had a booth to run, a million logistics to juggle, and just enough residual caffeine and trauma to pull it off. Yes, po. We paid for our own booth, alongside the Philippine Literary Circle Europe and my publishing label, mrenkerbooks, we somehow managed to create one of the most chaotic, joyful, and spiritually adobo-scented booths in Hall 5.1. A126. You could practically hear the tsinelas slapping across the floor from all the foot traffic.

It was magic. Loud, brown, bookish magic.

And yes. We sold out. Bratwurst & Batchoy flew off the shelves like it owed people child support. Apparently, love stories seasoned with long-distance heartbreak and German longganisa hit a nerve. Or a funny bone. Either way: sarap.

The Guest of Honour Pavilion was a bamboo-and-pineapple-fiber masterpiece, designed as a walkable “archipelago.” Cute, poetic, on-brand. Two years ago, I told the designer I hoped for more color, something like the vintas of Mindanao, the kipings of Quezon, or maskaras from Cebu. You know, like we haven’t all been surviving on beige for decades. But we’re getting there. Slowly. Like a tricycle on EDSA.

Props to Stanley Ruiz, though. His work has been everywhere, New York, Milan, Paris, Singapore, basically a travel blog with better lighting. But next time, Color isn’t just aesthetic. It’s resistance. It’s joy. It’s literally our national personality.

My core memory would be my panel, “Writing Far, Writing Home”, basically a group therapy for the diaspora with slightly better lighting. Then award-winning journalist Howie Severino turned up and asked a real question. (This alone is shocking.) He wanted to know what OFWs thought about certain protests happening in The Hague. I said: “Some call it blind fanaticism… but here’s my take: It’s not about Luzon, Visayas, or Mindanao anymore. It’s about the people. We’re all taxpayers. And the money they’re stealing? That’s ours.” #mgakurakotikulongnayan. You’re welcome.

Here’s what didn’t make it into the PR kits: Some Filipino creatives didn’t get the spotlight. Some were barely allowed into the room. But there’s a “delegate”? Fluent in Tagalog (bless her), zero Filipino ancestry, representing the whole country like it’s a Costco membership. Colonial mentality remains undefeated, like mold in a humid bathroom. On the final day, karaoke happened. It’s like a ray of sunshine. Lines of Filipinos and Filipino-Germans, ready to scream their heartbreak into a mic. Beyoncé who? We had Nanay belting Regine Velasquez “Araw Gabi”. It felt like home. Or at least like a barangay fiesta that happened to a land in Germany.

Over 500 Filipino delegates showed up. Around 150, according to a dew delegates i spoke to, were funded; the rest self-funded. And yes, some publishers in the Philippines weren’t thrilled. They questioned the optics of sending a literary delegation while our country wrestles with inflation, floods, and government corruption with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

But here’s the thing: this wasn’t just about books. It was about presence. About existing in a space that often forgets we’re more than just happy helpers and exotic entrees. About saying, “Hey, we’re here, we’re brilliant, and yes, we brought our own karaoke machine.” While some of us back home are boarding floating classrooms and praying for WiFi, our writers were being applauded on the world’s biggest literary stage. Is it a contradiction? No. It’s just the Filipino condition: building, breaking, and belting “My Way” in the ruins.

I'm Filipino but our company is registered as a book publishing company in Germany. So we also spoke to authors and illustrators for future collaborations and we bought rights too. But that's another story.

One Last Thing To is a message to the Filipino taxpayers: This was yours. Even if you didn’t read the book. Even if you think Ophelia is a shampoo. You paid for this presence. You funded your country’s storytellers to scream into the void and actually be heard.

Maraming salamat po.

You just wait for the transparency of the financial breakdown of where you taxes went po. Charot!

Mabuhay ang panitikan. Mabuhay ang Pilipinas. Mabuhay tayong lahat.