Young author Donovan Gatt’s debut is ‘Marmite literature’ through and through: just like the food product, you can love it and enthuse about it to all your friends, or you can hate it and just not ‘get’ it. But you won’t be merely indifferent to it.

Some books do that – the style is so particular that it’s not easily categorisable. The “if you liked A, you’ll like this” analogy doesn’t really work here. You have to give the book a try, and taste for yourself. Just like Marmite.

The stories in Six-pack u Sonza range from the overtly sexual, to the dark and dangerous, to the naughty, to the surreal. From the very first page, Gatt (25) makes it clear where he stands and the eponymous Six-pack u Sonza is a challenge to ‘love-or-hate’ his writing: a micro-scene of Michelangelo’s David having sweaty sex with the Fat Lady. ’nuff said.

LOTS TO DIGEST

Maltese obsessions and idiosyncrasies feature heavily in Gatt’s stories: the parallel universe that are private lessons, seen through the eyes of a latter-day would-be Don Giovanni; the providers of accommodation for summer students here to learn English; the whore’s love triangle; the disquieting dentist; the politics of canine mating; hold-ups; the ‘ahna hbieb tal-Ministru’ mentality; the paedophile priest. It’s all there.

The cover (designed by Pierre Portelli) is a clear pointer to the explicitness of the novel – as is the warning on the back cover. In an age where all has been done, written and read, and audiences are no longer shocked at anything (current censorship debate aside), Gatt does not seek to shock for the sake of it, but unshackles himself from any self-censorship and in so doing delivers a gutsy no-holds-barred read.

Six-pack u Sonza is definitely not one for the impressionable, both in terms of content and graphic scenes, and in terms of use of Maltese expletives where necessary in their ‘Malti pur’ glory. Conversations between characters are retold just as they would be overheard in the street, without any euphemisms or asterisks.

CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST

Vitella, for example, is the story of a cannibal – a Juventus fan who lives and works with his mum – who trawls the internet for dates-turned-victims. Loosely based on a true story, this is one of the grittiest stories, yet explores territories not often covered in local literature.

L-Isqof Nigerjan is an equally unsettling story about a Nigerian amputee bishop, whose severed limb reveals some uncomfortable hidden truths. The surgeon and the anaesthetist become recipients of an involuntary confession of sorts. Yet again, Gatt does not shy away from tackling complicated and taboo issues, but always does so with a clarity of purpose that belies his young age.

Other stories, such as xejnsewdottkom, take a lighter approach and make for great interludes. There is, as publishers Merlin state on the cover blurb, “Storja ghal kulhadd” (there’s a story for everyone’s tastes).

As with many of the sharpest authors, what highlights Gatt’s talent – copious if at times raw – is his observation of the world around him, of the tiny details that make us tick as individuals, of the character flaws that shape who we are. A good number of the characters in the stories of Six-pack u Sonza will remain with the reader for a good while after turning the last page of the book.

Six-pack u Sonza may be Gatt’s debut; but it will certainly not be the last we’ve heard of this author.