Issue link: https://maltatoday.uberflip.com/i/1535025
JAMES DEBONO jdebono@mediatoday.com.mt 8 8 maltatoday | SUNDAY • 4 MAY 2025 REVIEW 8"; Uv@0a]qpUa_m pKpl@KU_S@m M@Kkq@lpMlmUmplaUmIqllM_p]y mMM\U_SpaM^i]ay@0aqmTMRê /MkqUlM^M_pm@lMì ûxiMlUM_IMU_@]\@_IqUmU_M û,@mmUa_RalRlMmTëR]@vaqlRq] KUmTMm ûHU]Upypamp@lpU^^MKU@pM]y ,]M@mMmM_Kyaql8paì TlĕKUv@^pêIa^ Fragile certainties: Fluid identities, Sens ta' Ħarifa, Kurt Borg's intimate and philosophical essay collection invites readers to embrace uncertainty, empathy, and the quiet power of everyday encounters I love the essay-writing genre because, unlike the novel or the academic trea- tise, it is an imperfectly anarchic thought experiment—one that reflects a mood. AS British novelist and essayist Zadie Smith notes: "Writing exists at the intersection of three precarious, uncertain elements: language, the world, the self. The first is never wholly mine; the second I can only ever know in a partial sense; the third is a malleable and improvised response to the previous two." But the success of the essay lies in its ability to spark a myriad of conversa- tions as the text is consumed by its read- ers. For the reader, a good essay is like an encounter—like meeting a stranger in a coffee shop and listening to what they have to say. For me, a good essay needs to be informed but also entertaining and deeply personal. Kurt Borg's Sens ta' Ħarifa, a collec- tion of eight philosophical reflections on themes such as masculinity, fluid identities, bodies, and how we relate to strangers, represents the best of this tradition. It is informed without sound- ing pedantic, it rambles without being annoying, and it invites readers to talk back—both to the author and to them- selves. This particular collection, mostly writ- ten during the pandemic, felt like an in- vitation to reconnect with parts of my- self that had briefly surfaced during that period—submerged aspects of being that tend to go unnoticed in the speed of daily life. Five years on, the pandemic is becom- ing a distant memory—a brief interlude in which we were forced to withdraw and reflect before being thrown back into a world unravelling at a speed that continues to shatter many of our cer- tainties. One of my greatest curiosities during that time was observing strangers in parks or while walking, wondering: what is happening in their private mental uni- verse? With a few, during my walks, I even established a rapport—just by smil- ing and saying nothing else. With a cou- ple of these strangers, the connection endures to this day. Perhaps, as Borg suggests, our lives would be richer if we opened ourselves up to strangers and their stories—even casually, and without a particular rea- son—and worried less about the per- ceived dangers of breaking the social taboos regulating proper behaviour and personal space. Moreover, Borg invites us to reclaim time and to experience en- counters. He invites us to consider how our life would change if we listened to other people's stories. Borg's reflections include only brief ref- erences to the pandemic during which they were written, though I suspect his own gaze on the world at the time was shaped by a sense of being cocooned in introspection. The book also reminded me of a recurring sensation I had during the pandemic: the melancholic feeling one experiences in late September, just before school resumes and routine sets in—a mixture of anxiety and hope. For this reason, it took me longer to read Borg's essays than I expected. They opened too many internal corridors. Despite the clarity and unpretentious style with which Borg writes, I felt com- pelled to underline passages and scribble notes, actively negotiating with the text. Imagine my surprise when Borg started elaborating on his own relationship with books, including his habit of keeping them in a carton box within his other bag to shield them from the elements— while also scribbling in the margins and underlining key phrases according to a standardised system he devised over time. As Borg says, if you really love a book, you have to use it—and even write on it. As someone who often thinks while walking, I was particularly struck by his practical reflections on ethical walking— like his suggestion to walk at the side of the pavement rather than through the middle, as many still do nonchalantly. In the end, the book became a deeply personal exchange—primarily with the many selves and words that inhabit me, but also with an imaginary Kurt Borg, whom I've only rarely met (or rather seen) in person, mostly at some Graffitti protest or at some rock concert. Of course, I could not help feeling a sense of affinity. Despite the age differ- ence, we both belong to a generation who had a poster of Che Guevara in their room, who listened to punk and al- ternative music, and who identified with progressive causes. His honest deconstruction of mascu- linity—including his own—is essential reading in an era where simply being who you are, let alone being respectful or civil, is often mocked as 'woke'. Yet Borg's empathy ensures his reflections do not shut readers out. Borg is radical in his critique of masculinity, but his es- says reach out to those who live in a dif- ferent universe. "In the same society," Borg writes, "you find people who have barely started rec- ognising homosexuals as human... and people who refer to others as 'they' in- stead of 'he' or 'she'. For some, these are obvious matters; for others, they haven't even entered this discursive universe…" He reminds us that, for some, questions of identity are little more than irritating issues of wording—while for others, they are about liberation from an oppressive cage. Gender fluidity may seem absurd Kurt Borg It is informed without sounding pedantic, it rambles without being annoying, and it invites readers to talk back— both to the author and to themselves.