MIBF 2026: Finding Readers Beyond the Fair
What the Manila International Book Fair reveals about Philippine literature—and the work required to sustain its audience
The Manila International Book Fair proves that Filipinos are reading. The harder question is what happens when the booths close—and how Philippine books can remain visible, accessible and within reach of readers throughout the year.
Words by Chelsea Castillo and Mye Mulingtapang
Photos courtesy of Chelsea Castillo and MIBF 2026
For five days in September, the Manila International Book Fair transformed the SMX Convention Center in Pasay City into a meeting place for readers, writers, publishers, educators and booksellers. Commercial publishers, university presses and independent literary houses gathered under one roof, offering everything from textbooks and children’s books to novels, poetry collections and works of Philippine literature.
The scale of MIBF 2026 was difficult to ignore. Held from September 9 to 13, the fair occupied two floors of the convention centre—an expansion from its previous one-floor setup. Crowds moved between major publishing houses on the first floor and independent publishers on the second, browsing new releases, attending book signings and meeting the people behind the books.
The turnout offered a strong rebuttal to the familiar claim that Filipinos do not read. Yet attendance alone does not settle the deeper question facing Philippine publishing: what happens to readers, writers and books after the fair ends?
MIBF 2026: More Than a Marketplace
For Mhy San Miguel of the National Book Development Board, the fair’s expansion created more opportunities for independent publishers and authors to interact directly with readers. It also gave aspiring writers a place to build relationships and participate in a literary community growing alongside the event.
“The actual theme of this event is ‘Get LIT,’ but for me, the real theme is to bring back the joy of this event once more,” San Miguel said.
San Miguel observed the return of reading communities that had become less active during the pandemic, including those built around Wattpad. Readers and writers who once encountered one another mainly online were again meeting face to face.
“Now there are many meet-ups being organised again,” she explained. “So, it’s not just about ‘Get Lit’; it’s also a gathering of people who are really there for the reading community.”
Her observation points to one of the fair’s most important functions. MIBF is not simply a place where books are sold. It is where the otherwise scattered parts of the Philippine book industry become visible to one another. Readers meet writers. Independent presses encounter audiences beyond their usual circles. Online literary communities take physical form.
That sense of gathering matters, especially in an industry where books often struggle for attention against larger entertainment platforms. But community cannot depend on a five-day event alone.
Challenging the Myth That Filipinos Do Not Read
Author and former University of Santo Tomas Publishing House director Prof. John Jack Wigley, PhD, sees the size of the fair as evidence against two persistent assumptions: that Filipinos have no reading culture and that publishing has no viable audience.
“I’m glad because the saying that ‘Filipinos don’t read’ is not true. The proof of this is the Manila International Book Fair itself.”
For Wigley, MIBF has gradually become part of the cultural calendar of Filipino readers.
“The good thing about the Manila International Book Fair is that it becomes part of the culture of Filipino readers,” he said. “When it’s the second week of September, they attend the event.”
He also highlighted the fair’s growing physical footprint.
“The event is getting bigger and bigger. Now we have two floors. The second floor is for independent publishing, while the first floor has commercial publishing and university presses.”
This expansion gives smaller publishers something they rarely receive in the wider market: concentrated visibility. Readers who arrive looking for a familiar title or major publisher may leave carrying a poetry collection, regional work or independently published book they had never encountered before.
“So, it contributes much to Philippine literature because independent publishers that not many people know of are gaining visibility,” Wigley said.
Visibility, however, is only the first step. A crowded fair proves that readers can be mobilised around a major literary event. It does not automatically prove that books remain equally visible, accessible or affordable throughout the rest of the year.
What Happens After the Fair?
For regular book buyer MJ Seoxon, who returns to MIBF each year, discovering books is only one part of the experience. The larger concern is whether those books—and the writers behind them—can continue reaching readers once the booths have been dismantled.
“I think the bigger concern is whether these books and the writers behind them will continue to reach readers even after the fair,” she said. “Books still need to be more accessible, especially in terms of distribution and affordability, so that more people can actually get their hands on them.”
This becomes particularly urgent for regional and emerging writers. Their books may attract attention during MIBF but remain difficult to find in mainstream bookstores afterward. Readers outside Metro Manila face additional barriers, including limited distribution, delivery costs and the absence of nearby bookshops carrying independently published titles.
“It’s also important to support new and regional writers because they bring different stories and perspectives to the shelves,” Seoxon added.
“If we make reading more accessible and give more writers across the country opportunities to reach their audiences, I think more people will be able to discover their work.”
The challenge, then, is not simply convincing Filipinos to read. It is building an ecosystem in which readers can consistently find and afford Philippine books wherever they live.
Buying a Book as Concrete Support
Writers and publishers cannot survive on visibility alone. Appreciation, online praise and photographs taken at a book fair may help promote a title, but they do not cover the costs of writing, editing, design, printing and distribution. Purchasing a book remains one of the most direct forms of support readers can offer.
As writer and scholar Dr. Genevieve L. Asenjo wrote on her Facebook account:
“Ang pagbili ng kanilang libro ang isang kongkretong suporta na maipamalas natin sa ating mga kakilala, kababayan, kamag-anak, katrabaho, kaibigan.” “Buying their books is one concrete way we can show support for the people we know—our fellow Filipinos, relatives, colleagues and friends.”—Dr. Genevieve L. Asenjo, via Facebook (English translation by In The Mix Magazine)
Asenjo’s own experience at MIBF 2026 gave that appeal particular weight. Copies of The Melancholy of the Tongue, the English translation of her novel Lumbay ng Dila, sold out during the fair. Translated by Ana Margarita Nuñez and published by Fidessa Literary, the book’s reception showed that readers are willing to encounter Philippine stories across languages when those works are made visible and accessible to them.
The message acknowledges a difficult reality: writing and producing a book take time, while the finished work may remain in circulation for years. A book can be reread, shared, given as a gift or passed from one generation to another.
It also asks people who may not consider themselves regular readers to see book buying differently. A book does not have to be purchased only for oneself. It can be given to a child, a student or an aspiring writer. It can be donated to a barangay daycare centre, school or community library. Someone who believes they is “not interested” in Filipino or Philippine literature can still begin with one title.
But the appeal to support writers should not be used to dismiss legitimate concerns about price. Books have become more expensive because nearly every part of their production has become more expensive. At the same time, many Filipino households have little discretionary income. The responsibility for sustaining literature therefore cannot rest entirely on individual buyers.
Publishers, schools, libraries, local governments, cultural agencies and private organisations also have roles to play. Bulk purchases, library acquisition programmes, regional distribution partnerships, book-donation initiatives and year-round literary events can carry books beyond the readers who already have the means to attend MIBF.
Turning a Five-Day Crowd Into a Lasting Readership
MIBF 2026 demonstrated that Philippine literature has an audience. Readers came prepared to browse, buy, queue for signings and participate in literary communities. Independent publishers gained visibility, while writers encountered people willing to listen to the stories they had spent years creating.
But the fair’s success should not allow the industry to avoid harder questions. Who can afford the books being celebrated? Where can readers find them after September? Which writers remain absent from mainstream shelves? How can interest generated at the fair be turned into sustained reading throughout the year?
A book fair can create excitement, but it cannot build a national reading culture by itself. That requires reliable distribution, functioning libraries, institutional purchases, stronger regional networks and continued investment in Filipino writers and publishers.
The long-term measure of MIBF’s success is not merely how many people entered the convention centre or how many books were sold during five crowded days. It is whether the books discovered there continue travelling—into homes, classrooms, libraries and communities—long after the fair closes.
Because finding readers at MIBF is only the beginning. The real task is making sure Philippine literature can keep reaching them everywhere else.
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