The writer comments on contemporary Malta in the light of his newly published trilogy ‘Hekk Thabbat
il-Qalb Maltija’, a quest for the rediscovery of Malta’s roots through a compromise between tradition and modernity
Towards a definition
of the island
The newcomer can immediately discover the real essence of that stretch of land permanently lurking alone, in apparent oblivion of all, in the middle of the Mediterranean: that rock is equally small and complete. It is an island around as much as it embodies the island within. A living paradox, an image of the enigma of life itself. She has consistently attracted the attention of numerous powerful nations, and some of them have also managed to fall in love with her. Eventually, they have left their indelible mark on her character, and this has gradually grown into one complex phenomenon. All the layers tell a different story, but lead towards one substantial conclusion: assimilation. That is how history has been equally benevolent and despotic with the place. Since Malta is also a prominent tourist resort in the region, she boasts of her past as she seeks to justify her pretences according to the demands of the present.
A very rich history has contributed to render Malta a significant destination for anyone who wants to discover the uniqueness of living on an island and get the special feeling of going through a country where past and present habitually go hand in hand. The most diverse historical eras do so through conviction as well as convenience, at times peacefully and naturally, at others with difficulty and in defiance of all the other attractions of post-modernism. The perennial dispute between the immobility of the past and the velocity of the present is indeed an aspect which greatly explains what life in Malta implies. Indeed, given the limited space, Malta has to make exceptional efforts to survive as well as to keep in touch with the outer world, much bigger and infinitely indifferent. But that is what makes Malta a fascinating story to narrate.
The country has never been self-sufficient, as no other country is, but an innate passion for initiative has kept the world moving, whatever the circumstances. A small national community, which includes thousands of migrants spread throughout the world, has succeeded in building itself into what it is now a state enjoying full recognition worldwide. Three tiny islands – Malta, Gozo and Comino – together with some islets form the Maltese Archipelago, about 100 kilometres from Sicily. The distance from North Africa is 288km. The whole area known as Malta is about 246 square kilometres. The longest distance is about 27km, and the widest is 14km and the place is characterised by numerous harbours, low hills and sandy beaches.
Valletta is the capital city, as well as an important commercial spot, characterised by a number of harbours, the main one being Grand Harbour, the site of numerous historical events.
The archaeological patrimony is about 7,000 years old. Malta is most known for its megalithic temples, the oldest free standing stone buildings in the world. The hypogeum is an early example of the real definition of Malta: the fusion of culture and religion. The cart tracks, commonly assigned to the Bronze Age, are a unique aspect of the historical character of the island.
The identity of early Malta was shaped by the Phoenicians, the Carthaginians and the Romans. St Paul was shipwrecked in Malta in 60AD, as recorded in The Acts of the Apostle, which gave birth to the strong Christian tradition of the island. The Arabs ruled Malta between 870 and 1090, succeeded by the Normans and then the Order of St John. The Knights of Malta left a rich architectural heritage scattered throughout the place. In 1798, Napoleon invaded Malta and forced the Order to leave. The uprising of the Maltese against their French occupiers led to the British blockade. Malta asked for British protection in 1802 and was annexed to Britain under the Treaty of Paris in 1814. The country achieved independence from Britain in 1964, and in 1979 became a republic.
The history of the island closely reflects the historical evolution of Europe. Malta has managed to absorb all the influences coming from outside and mould them according to its own nature. This gave room for the formation of a unique identity, both typical of the region and also distinctive. Religion, language and domination have all contributed to the formation of its character and it has managed to survive and eventually to become sovereign.
The rediscovery of roots
Colonialism has left an indelible mark on Malta. However, political emancipation has provided the people with the full rights enjoyed by any democracy in the world. The old man still lingers on in the Maltese, but he has matured and realised that he is politically new and free person after so long. Contemporary life demands all sorts of development. Where is national dignity actually to be found, and of what does it consist? Can the past and the present go hand in hand together?
The island’s heritage is essentially in stone, and man has to be a builder of some sort. Navigation gave way to construction. Maltese history recognises its prehistoric birth in ritual, and since then it seems that the islander has not changed substantially. His attitude towards his heritage in stone is still ritualistic. Churches are built with the same ease as villas. A church may resemble a villa, and vice-versa. A church is not only useful but also symbolic; so is a Maltese house. It is equally an abode and a solid image of the inhabitant.
Different cultures have produced specific psychological traits, an unquenchable thirst for the new. The major eras – Phoenician, Carthaginian, Roman, Spanish, Arabic, Norman, French and British – illustrate submission to superior forces and the gradual formation of an indigenous identity through assimilation and adaptation. The Maltese character has been moulded by foreign domination.
The Maltese language, itself a cross-cultural and intercontinental phenomenon of world relevance, is the most characteristic feature of the island. As a mixed medium of expression, it exemplifies what Malta has gone through for a very long time. Since the Norman Conquest, Maltese has been widely exposed to non-Arabic influences. What happened to the language is indicative of the complex process pervading the whole of Maltese reality. The immense interest and prominence it has attracted from foreign scholars begs the paramount question of how did two gigantic cultural traditions – the Semitic and the Latin – manage to merge into one unique whole within the confines of such a tiny territory?
What about analysing this remarkable truth through a novel? Hekk Thabbat… – The Way a Maltese Heart Beats. So does the human soul anywhere, anytime. Life is only a mystery unfolding itself through the meaningful insignificance of daily routine.
Narrating Malta,
a boat and a house
All this has strongly influenced me to narrate it in terms of poetry, short stories and novels. For many, many years I have found it quite intriguing to reflect on the reality of Malta as a sort of image of any other existential situation in Europe.
It is very difficult to recall how a novel, intended to be equally fictitious and historical – comes about. A thought, an incident, a recollection, a meeting with a friend, anything could have prompted a novel to come to the fore. But from where? From where does a novel start? Was it conceived in Malta or abroad? Any answer is incomplete. What can be safely said is that the life of a novelist is best lived through wilful loyalty to that choice: meaningful narration. Thus, one thinks in terms of plots, people, actions, characterisation and, above anything else, universal truths. My novels intentionally look provincial, historical, tied to a specific time and place, and ideally insert life in a sort of time warp. That is how the sense of what is contemporary can be described. All this can constitute what may be defined as a Mediterranean novel. Mediterraneanism is an attitude, and then a method of writing.
The existential islander
The precariousness of an islander is the fundamental theme from which all variations may emanate. To me, that is the source of inspiration in all its forms. My islander has always lived on the cutting edge and his nature has been moulded by a persistent accumulation of civilisations. In a character there has to be a fusion of influences, all contributing towards the formation of a specific Mediterranean type. The inhabitant of Malta is born on a tiny island and takes pride in being a stubborn survivor, defying time, absorbing the lessons of time. That makes him or her both resolute and undecided. Invasions and occupations have indeed moulded such an islander into a crusader in search of a promised land which must ultimately must be somewhere within.
The protagonist of an inherently Maltese novel is to me necessarily a man connected to the sea as much as to the land. He knows Grand Harbour just as well as he knows the remote fields and valleys. He must be a perpetual traveller who wearily plods his way towards self-recognition in terms of political belonging and philosophical enquiry. He ultimately understands that both dimensions converge within his conscience. He is a Maltese pilgrim.
The question regarding what it really means to be the end-result of so many diverse civilisations is perennially intriguing, and answers can be provided both scholarly and literarily. I have sought both over a period of more than 30 years and it is safe to conclude that both are components of one selfsame interpretation. The awareness of Malta forming part of the southernmost end of a continent, facing the northern frontier of another, and the fact that diverse cultures meet within the Maltese spirit: that to me has been a continuous source of inspiration in both my poems and my novels. In the trilogy Hekk Thabbat il-Qalb Maltija (Klabb Kotba Maltin, 2011), the warmth and complexity of the south are hopefully conveyed through people who painfully or otherwise illustrate the sociality of individual life. It has taken me 12 years (1998-2010) to write, but it epitomises the recurring, persistent concern of a whole lifetime.
History and timelessness
An island like Malta primarily embodies antiquity. It has to be that in a modern way. A paradox is thus meant to be lived, and transcended; a novel may suggest how. The dualism is inherent in all this, and various parallel manifestations of it can be identified: God is timeless, and history conveys that sense through the transience of time; the land, which is limited, faces the sea, which looks infinite; the self is supposedly known, whereas otherness (what lies beyond the visible ocean) is unpredictable. My sort of outsider may not be existential, but he is definitely political, historical, deeply rooted somewhere in the middle of the Mediterranean where Malta stands as a sort of meeting place, a spiritual hub, a timeless roundabout. Man is always striving to attain freedom as he almost instinctively falls in love with chains.
Such a frontier country cannot be understood if not in terms of what is a sort of precariousness. An ex-colony which managed to outwit history and to emerge as a fully-fledged nation state, a country on its own, sufficiently strong to form part of the European assembly of nations: that is indeed a novel with a happy ending. Hekk Thabbat il-Qalb Maltija depicts life in the past, eventually transforming memory into fantasy, history into a fable. That to me is an interpretation of life in both local and universal terms. The present unfolds itself mysteriously in the process. My island stands midway between isolation and integration, representing the condition of the average inhabitant of the place as well as that of any human being.
Such a situation is then transformed into a metaphor of an existential nature. The post-modern era has its specific preoccupations, disguised in various ways. Communication with the outer world is what the islander – as much as any person anywhere – is seeking. The setting is a constant: the south of Europe, an island in the centre of the Mediterranean.
Malta must look ahead to a more complex future, but may she rediscover her roots before it is too late – fatally too late. No tree flourishes without new foliage, and none without roots. It’s a law of nature. May God help her.