The Philippines continues to grapple with serious gaps in reading comprehension. According to the Philippine Statistics Authority, about 90 percent of Filipinos aged five and above can read and write but only 70.8 percent of those aged 10 to 64 demonstrate functional literacy—the ability to comprehend and apply what they read.
In regions weighed down by poverty, such as the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao, this figure drops further to 64.7 percent. A 2023 report from the National Library of the Philippines further revealed that the country has only three percent of the public libraries mandated by law, and nearly 80 percent of those existing institutions house fewer than 10,000 books. The scarcity of reading resources contributes to worrying outcomes, with the 2019 Southeast Asia Primary Learning Metrics showing that only one in ten Filipino Grade 5 students met minimum reading standards.
These numbers paint a picture of a nation that can read but struggles to comprehend—a country with classrooms but without enough books, with learners but too few libraries. It is a crisis of access as much as it is of comprehension. Yet, along Balagtas street in Makati City, a modest initiative has been quietly pushing back against this reality for more than two decades.
The Reading Book Club 2000 founded by Hernando Guanlao known as “Tatay Nanie” is an informal community library that operates 24/7 and welcomes anyone who wishes to read or take a book—no fees, no cards, and no questions asked. Started with just 50 of his personal books placed outside his home, it has grown into thousands, donated by friends, strangers, and fellow book lovers. His collection includes textbooks, storybooks, magazines, and novels, all offered for free.
His passion for reading has not only transformed his neighborhood but has extended far beyond it. Through the generosity of donors and volunteers, many of the books from Reading Club 2000 have found their way to provinces and even to remote communities of indigenous people, where access to libraries and educational resources is scarce. For children in these areas, a donated book can be a rare and life-changing gift.
Guanlao admits he once dreamed of building a formal library but lacked the funds to do so. Instead, he embraced optimism and faith, convinced that his genuine intentions would bear fruit. “I practiced the law of attraction,” he recalls. “I first displayed 50 books… God knows my true intentions… and the rest is history.” Donations began pouring in, and soon enough, his aklatan sa bangketa—or sidewalk library—became a refuge for children, students, and even street kids who had no means of buying their own reading materials.
For Tatay Nanie, reading is empowerment. “You cannot learn without reading,” he says, noting how poverty and ignorance leave people vulnerable, not only in school but in civic life as well. Reflecting on the current challenges of the country, he laments how poor choices in leadership often stem from a lack of knowledge, and insists that building an informed citizenry must start with developing the habit of reading.
In a country facing persistent challenges in reading comprehension and access to learning resources, Guanlao’s sidewalk shelves highlight how community-driven efforts can complement formal systems in promoting literacy. His initiative suggests that fostering a reading culture does not always depend on large budgets or institutions—it can also begin with one person, one idea, and one stack of books placed on a sidewalk.
