Some People Need Killing: A Memoir of Murder in My Country

This book is a masterclass in what I consider true journalism at its absolute best. Patricia Evangelista doesn't just report on the facts; she immerses you in the humid, terrifying nights of the 'night shift' where the bodies piled up under Duterte’s orders. The way she juxtaposes the cold, hard data of the drug war with the visceral grief of the families left behind is nothing short of haunting. Some might find the prose a bit dense, but I believe the complexity reflects the tangled morality of a nation cheering for its own destruction. It is a harrowing, essential record of a dark era that the world should not be allowed to forget. Frankly, the detail about the 'grammar of violence' and how the state uses language to mask murder was the most chilling part for me. This is not an easy read, but it is a necessary one for anyone who cares about human rights and the fragility of democracy.

Rarely does a piece of non-fiction leave me feeling so utterly devastated yet enlightened at the same time. Patricia Evangelista has written a brave, unflinching account of the slaughter occurring in the Philippines, and her voice is one of pure, righteous exhaustion. I was particularly moved by the stories of the mothers and children in the slums who were caught in the crossfire of a war that seemed to target the poor exclusively. The author’s background as a 'disaster journalist' shines through in her ability to find the humanity in the midst of absolute carnage. She doesn't shy away from the fact that many of her own countrymen supported these killings, which adds a layer of tragic complexity to the whole book. It’s a staggering work of witness. If you want to understand how a populist leader can turn a country against its own people, read this immediately. It is easily one of the most important books of the decade.

Patricia Evangelista has managed to write something that feels both like a historical record and a living, breathing nightmare. The truth is, I had to put this book down several times just to catch my breath because the descriptions of the executions are so vivid. She captures the atmosphere of fear in Manila perfectly, especially the sense that anyone could be next if a neighbor decided to whisper the wrong name to the police. I found the sections on the 'vigilante' kill squads to be the most fascinating and disturbing parts of the whole narrative. It’s a deep dive into the banality of evil. The author’s prose is sharp and rhythmic, echoing her training in oratorical speech, which gives the book a unique, almost poetic quality despite the grim subject matter. This is an essential read for anyone interested in global politics or the ethics of journalism. Absolutely brilliant work.

Ever wonder how a democracy slides into a slaughterhouse with the total applause of its own citizens? This book provides a terrifying answer. Evangelista is a surgeon with words, cutting through the propaganda of the Duterte regime to show the rotting core underneath. I was haunted by the story of 'Simon' and the idea that ordinary people can be convinced that 'some people need killing' for the greater good. The reporting here is top-tier; you can tell she spent years on the ground, risking her safety to get these stories. It’s a visceral, bloody, and deeply moving piece of literature that functions as both a warning and a memorial. Some might find the length intimidating, but every page feels like a necessary act of resistance against forgetting. I cannot recommend this highly enough to anyone who values truth and justice. It is a staggering achievement that I won't stop thinking about for a long time.

Why does a book about mass murder spend so much time discussing intransitive verbs and passive voice? At first, I found the author's focus on linguistics and her own history as a public speaker a bit distracting from the main subject. However, as I got deeper into the narrative, I realized she was dissecting how language is weaponized to justify the slogan 'some people need killing.' Evangelista is a gifted writer, though I’ll admit the pacing can feel a bit sluggish in the middle sections where the descriptions of surroundings become very flowery. To be fair, the sheer volume of stories about the dead can become overwhelming to the point of numbness, which might be the author's intent. It really forces you to look at the 'monsters' and see the humans underneath. The book is perhaps a bit too long, but the investigative work is undeniably brave and meticulously detailed.

I struggled initially with the balance between the author’s personal memoir and the actual reportage of the drug war. I went in expecting a straightforward political analysis of Duterte’s regime, but what I got was something much more intimate and, at times, more frustrating. Evangelista’s style is very deliberate, almost like she’s trying to paint a picture in slow motion with every sentence. While this makes for some beautiful passages, it also means the book clocks in at a very hefty length that might test the patience of casual readers. Still, the accounts of vigilantes like 'Simon' are absolutely gripping and provide a terrifying window into the psyche of those who believe they are doing 'good' by killing. It’s a powerful testament to the victims whose names would otherwise be erased. I’d recommend it, but be prepared for a very heavy, slow-burning experience that demands your full attention.

After hearing so many snippets about Duterte’s drug war on the news over the years, I thought I was prepared for the contents of this book. I was wrong. The level of detail Evangelista provides regarding the police operations and the planting of evidence is truly horrific and eye-opening. The writing itself is quite sophisticated, though I can see why some readers might find it a bit verbose or 'wordy' in certain chapters. Personally, I appreciated the deep dive into Filipino history and the author's own journey, as it provided much-needed context for how someone like the 'Punisher' could rise to power. My only real gripe is that the narrative structure feels a bit disjointed at times, jumping between different years and victims in a way that can be hard to track. Nevertheless, it is a monumental achievement in investigative reporting that deserves every bit of praise it gets for its authenticity and courage.

Picked this up on a whim after seeing it on several 'best of' lists, and it certainly lives up to the hype in terms of its emotional weight. Evangelista is a phenomenal writer who knows exactly how to twist the knife by focusing on the small, tragic details—like the color of a child's backpack at a crime scene. I learned so much about the political landscape of the Philippines that I never knew before. However, the author’s obsession with the 'grammar' of the killings—the way she analyzes the specific words used by Duterte and the police—felt a bit academic and took me out of the story a few times. Got to say, it’s a very heavy lift for a weekend read. It’s a book that demands you sit with the discomfort of what humans are capable of. It’s not perfect, but it’s a vital piece of work for our current political climate.

The truth is, this could have been a much tighter and more impactful book if it were about 100 pages shorter. I have immense respect for the author's bravery and the importance of the subject matter, but the delivery felt very repetitive after a while. We get dozens of stories of young men being killed in alleys, and while each one is a tragedy, they start to blend together in a way that diminishes the impact of the individual narratives. I also found the author’s tangents into her childhood and international speaking competitions to be somewhat self-indulgent and irrelevant to the drug war. It felt like she was trying to write a literary masterpiece when a more direct, punchy reporting style might have served the victims better. It’s still a significant historical document, but the pacing issues and the long-winded descriptions of scenery made it a bit of a chore to finish.

Look, I understand the importance of documenting these atrocities, but the writing style here just didn't work for me. It felt extremely verbose and 'literary' for a book that is ostensibly about a bloody drug war. There are long, sprawling sentences about trees and the layout of neighborhoods that felt like filler, making the already long page count feel even more daunting. I was expecting more of a high-level political analysis, but the book leans very heavily into personal memoir and repetitive scene-setting at the sites of various murders. To be fair, her interviews with the killers themselves are chilling and well-conducted. But overall, the 'staccato' pacing and the constant grammatical asides made it a frustrating experience. It’s an important record, certainly, but I think a more rigorous editor could have made this a much more effective and readable book for a general audience.