The Write Stuff

Interview by Jon Rosser in “Showtime” Arts  Supplement

(The Times, Friday 5 August 2005)

Do you derive pleasure from the act of writing, or is it something you feel compelled to do?

At school I was always writing poems and stories, invariably in English, my favourite subject, and was soon sending them out (and receiving rejection slips) to Tit-Bits for its page of five-minute fiction. I subscribed to such magazines as John Bull, Argosy, and Everybody’s (all now gone) and I used to jot down phrases, study characters, and take notes on style for later study. They were useful benchmarks as I sought my own ‘voice’. As the writing bug took complete hold of me I started having poems accepted for publication. Over the years there is no doubt that writing became a compulsion, almost an obsession. 

Do you write in Maltese from choice? Most writers want to be read by as many people as possible. Would you not find a wider readership if you wrote more in English?

For Maltese writers that is the million-euro question. I once put the same question to Francis Ebejer. He looked at me and said: “But Victor, with all its shortcomings Maltese is our language!” He was right. It is now and irrevocably part of our heritage; do people willingly destroy or desert their own heritage? On the other hand you’re spot on about the prospect of wider readership in English. One has to keep a reasonable balance. Even so, getting caught in the language dilemma can be detrimental to your creative energy. However, choice sometimes sorts itself out according to mood, subject matter, publisher’s request, and so on. In this respect Dun Karm, our national poet, has penned two memorable lines: Ħobb, jekk jiswewlek, l-ilsna barranija / Iżda le tbarri lil min hu ta’ ġewwa (Love, if you find them useful, the foreign languages, but discard not what is homegrown).

Let’s have a few biographical notes. Where were you born, grew up, went to school, university, etc. What is/was your day to day profession, and for how long did you practise it?

I was born in Hamrun where for fourteen years I lived, endured the war years, and attended school. Then my mother died at 38 and we moved to Valletta with grandparents.  (the lyceum was just round the corner) for the first fourteen years of my life. The old Oxford examinations followed in due time and soon I was attending the non-residential St. Michael’s College for prospective male teachers (which in those years was in a quiet, pristine place we now call Paceville!). I joined the Education Department in 1955 and retired as headmaster in 1996 – a tall order, considering that I constantly felt at odds with the system.

   In between I attended the Royal University of Malta, graduating in 1964 in English, Maltese and History. This was followed two years later by a Commonwealth bursary at the London University College of Education, where my area of study concerned the writing and production of textbooks. With no final examinations to sit for, I spent most of my evenings attending the theatre, cinema, art exhibitions, music performances – and going to football games on Saturday afternoons, which was a sort of English ritual. It was the year of my life.

What form of writing gives you the most satisfaction: fiction, drama, journalism, poetry, biography, etc?

If I were starting out today I would go in for journalism. I always had a special feel for it. But in my days journalism didn’t pay, and the prevailing mentality was to go in for a government job because it offered stability. Even so, I spent my evenings covering sport, cinema and the theatre on a part-time basis for papers (now defunct) like The Bulletin, The Voice of Malta and Malta News, though on rare occasions I covered more serious events: a soccer bribery court case, the Mintoff riots in Valletta during the ‘Integration’ days.

   On the literary scene, my first love was the short story (avid reader of Maugham, Hemingway, O.Henry), but I was always so much on the go, with little time to concentrate long enough, that gradually my preference shifted to poetry. The reviews I got for my first collection, together with the advent of the Moviment Qawmien Letterarju – a young, vigorous, new-wave literary movement – cemented my decision to concentrate on poetry.

Did you enjoy writing drama criticism, or are you too mild mannered a person to be really sharply critical?

In the 70s I also covered drama for The Times of Malta, and I still stand in occasionally for Paul Xuereb in The Sunday Times. I can’t say I still enjoy it as I used to; it is largely out of my system now. And yes, I guess your assessment is right, there have been occasions when I wasn’t sharply critical enough. I just keep in mind the constraints and difficulties of our fledgling theatre, that’s all. I’m not too happy about it, but there are times when one needs to be, well, pragmatic.

There has been much hot air expelled on the subject of whether or not we need a national  drama company. What is your view?

I used to believe we needed one, but not any more. In addition to the recognised drama companies we now have a mass of small groups (even if some of them are short-lived) who have put on quite a number of interesting productions, especially in the vernacular. They act like drama workshops and should be allowed to develop their own particular brand of alternative theatre. I would also like the Manoel Theatre, as our national theatre, to keep faith with the two Maltese plays on their annual itinerary, with the Malta Council for Culture & the Arts devoting more funds towards this end.

What, in your opinion, is the current state of Maltese literature?

I know most of the contemporary Maltese writers and I believe that the best of them bear comparison with many foreign authors. What they lack is adequate through promotional campaigns, which in turn need generous funding. Unfortunately we have a rather apathetic local public, small enough an audience for an island this size, smaller still because of strong language prejudices which have never really left us since the (in)famous Language Question of the 1920s. The matter is compounded by local bookshops where the stock of Maltese literature books – in stark contrast with the Melitensia and international best-sellers – usually finds itself on a solitary back shelf. As if, by apology.

What, do you think, is the current state of the Maltese language? Is it worth preserving, and why?

It is definitely worth preserving. In its mixture of Semitic and Romance elements it is unique. Every time I participated in poetry readings abroad, I was always asked to read something in Maltese and you could feel the sense of surprise and enjoyment, even at the mere sound of it. Nonetheless, I still fear that because of widespread apathy Maltese literature will some day die a natural death. That would return the language to its “kitchen” role of old. If that ever happens, it will be a blot on our national character. Without any doubt Maltese literature needs constant propping-up because of its strictly “national” (and therefore limited) appeal, in contrast to the “international” nature of other branches of the arts.  

What are you currently working on? Hopefully you’ve a lot more volumes left in you, but  how would you eventually like to be remembered? 

I hope shortly to put out my last collection of poems. Even the title is conclusive: Għeluq, which means Closure. After that there is only an extended “concrete poem”, spreading over the whole panorama of Maltese history. It’s been on my mind since the 1960s, but it’s a costly undertaking and may never see the light of day. It’s difficult to explain because it’s a visual thing. We’ll see.

   For some years now I’ve been engaged in the field of juvenile literature. In stark contrast to poetry, it has a wide audience. In Malta we still have it typecast as “letteratura tat-tfal” (children’s literature), ignoring the allied classifications of teen literature, pre-adult literature, and now crossover literature. I am writing stories with social themes in which children constantly react to and interact with their elders in a harsh adult world. I have so far tackled the problems of family violence, bereavement at an early age, betrayal in love. Forthcoming titles revolve around drugs in school, illegal immigrants, split families, etc. It’s an open field, and I’m enjoying the adventure.

   How would I like to be remembered? I really don’t know, but I wouldn’t like all the work I’ve done to simply vanish into thin air. But such a thing may well come to pass. Kismet, Hardy!