Issue link: https://maltatoday.uberflip.com/i/1518068
9 maltatoday | WEDNESDAY • 27 MARCH 2024 INTERVIEW than the literary industry tizz in the novel; he uses cheese- cakes and peacakes instead. I think this is a mistake because the word pastizz has so much cultural currency that you can condense all of Malta in that one word. Even simple words like sorry and thank you are replac- ing their Maltese equivalents today, especially with younger people. I won't be prescriptive and say whether this is right or wrong because language is or- ganic and develops in the most efficient way possible, but it is a reality. It's the same case with inter- national novels in translation. An example would be Elena Fer- rante's Neapolitan novels. The English translator, Ann Gold- stein, left some Italian phrasings in the narrative. For example, instead of the word neighbour- hood, she kept the Italian Il Ri- one because it is so culturally significant for the Neapolitan context. I felt that I wanted to capture the Maltese reality of people speaking a mix of both languages and to write an au- thentic Maltese book. You've often said that Maltese literature is largely invisible in the world. Why do you think this is? The short answer is that there's no critical culture to speak of. I genuinely believe that critical culture is a safe space for both good writers and good readers. If there is a well-oiled mechanism or filter that helps us distinguish between good books and ones that aren't so good then writers would feel vindicated when they do a good job. Readers would learn to trust writing again. Imagine if a local writer pub- lishes a book which is immedi- ately hailed a masterpiece. Its blurb describes it as the best work in recent years. A reader picks it up, reads it and secret- ly thinks, "This is not a mas- terpiece; this is rubbish." What you're doing there is losing the trust of your reader. That con- tributes to a lack of reading cul- ture. I don't understand how we then have the gall to complain that Maltese people don't read local literature. Maybe it's our fault that we haven't been pro- ducing literature that is worth their time. I think we're produc- ing a lot of work that is not up to scratch because some publishers are too afraid to say no to estab- lished Maltese writers. However, no one's ego or pride is worth more than a literary industry and its capacity to bridge bounda- ries. If we normalise criticism, everyone stands to benefit. Why is it that we're still so wary of critique in this country? In Malta, we see critique as a personal attack. It's understand- able for a small, parochial, insu- lar island community to be afraid of critique. I may criticise you today, but because of the island's geography I may encounter you in the supermarket tomorrow. Nobody wants that. Critique can be seen as a learning experience, as something productive. In Malta, it doesn't work that way though. We either take things far too seriously immediately, or we never react because we are afraid of awkwardness. These are extremes and there doesn't seem to be a middle road in this country. I've had people tell me that they were threatened for ei- ther writing a review or refusing to do so. I know people who have been ostracised from the writing community in Malta for provid- ing negative feedback on a par- ticular author's work. The threats make you think that there's something larger at play here. If you're an estab- lished author in Malta, you're more likely to be chosen for events, you're more likely to be hired, and you're more likely to get funding. So, while the spirit of debate in this country is nei- ther healthy nor thriving, the en- trepreneurial spirit is alive and kicking. You can rest assured that when there's money in- volved, there's going to be some element of viciousness. If we normalise criticism, if we include it as part of our collec- tive consciousness, if we come to believe that it's fine to disagree and to criticise one another, then things don't have to become poi- sonous and toxic. However, at present, we're far from normal- ising criticism in Malta. Last year, you were embroiled in the controversy surrounding the Malta Literary Review. You were accused of being one of the people behind the website and that you were using anonymity to attack some of the established writers in the contemporary Maltese literary scene. Why did the MLR cause so much controversy? I think the fuss that was made over it was because its reviews were anonymous. If someone is wearing a mask, then that per- son's an easy target. If something is anonymous, it's going to invite hate, it's going to invite easy at- tacks. I believe critique shouldn't be anonymous. But then again, assuming the people behind the MLR feared ostracisation, I don't blame them for choosing ano- nymity. One person on social media said the MLR's reviews were nothing more than graffiti or slogans on a bus stop. I think this person is rather clueless; as history shows us, graffiti is a very valid form of expression. It was highly significant for the US civil rights movement, for example. When the powers that be are os- tracising you for simply having a voice, I think graffiti and ano- nymity are highly valid forms of expression. Recently I became aware that one particular author secretly made edits to their work in line with the MLR's critique. But in public, they were one of the most vociferous voices against the publication; they wanted to shut it down. I think this excessive pride contributes to delusions of grandeur. Even Shakespeare wrote Love's Labour's Lost and it's a terrible play. The fact that we think that everything we write is golden, that it's a mas- terpiece, is not doing the writing or the reading any favours. The MLR controversy didn't just lead to anonymous threats against you, but it also led to the literary establishment attacking you and the people in your life on a personal level. How do you feel about that? A particular public officer and young writer said that the liter- ary sector in Malta suffers from the same issues that many other social structures in this country suffer from: nepotism, favour- itism and back scratching. She said that some writers sell them- selves to become successful. I think it was a fair comment, one we make on a daily basis about other sectors. She didn't men- tion any specific names or call out anyone in particular. In 2021, Transparency Interna- tional told public officers across the entire world that if the stake- holders for whom they work are suspect, they have an obligation to go public. So, you're encour- aged to speak your truth and you're protected. In Malta, the opposite happened. PEN Mal- ta, which according to its by- laws should protect young writ- ers and should provide a space whereby they can elucidate their remarks, told this young writer that she should shut up, resign and apologise. You see this a lot in Malta. In fact, before you're about to take on an institution, you're told by your loved ones to be careful. The opposite happens if you benefit from a rigged system or if you benefit from corruption. Your loved ones will likely tell you that you're doing right since everyone is doing this kind of thing. No wonder Malta's mor- al compass is so skewed, and no wonder we sometimes write, "M for mediocrity." Because of PEN Malta's state- ment, young people are not en- couraged to break the ceiling, they're not encouraged to stray from the path. The leadership of PEN Malta should resign based on that statement. Imagine the message they're sending to young people out there: They're essentially telling them to shut up and stay within the confines of the status quo, they're at- tempting to crush their spirit. It's a heinous remark because it's telling freethinking young people who are brave enough to tell their truth to be afraid. I think that is absolutely horren- dous. Daniel Xerri (left) with David Samuel Hudson (Photo: Nathan Camilleri Photography)