Paul P. Borg is today one of the most prolific authors in Maltese, with a string of novels making him one of the most-read authors.

From writing about Selmun, an area he knows well, to other writings he is always fresh in his choice of themes with such novels as dal-lejl gie alla or Bejn Mara u Qassis.

This book is not just his latest but also, I feel, the one which stands to raise him up to one of the foremost Maltese contemporary novelists.

There was, of course, the 1962 Ken Kesey novel later turned into a film with Jack Nicholson One flew over the cuckoo's nest but that was a comedy. Still, something must have stuck in Borg's memory in the person of the tyrannical head nurse, in this case a woman.

The Borg novel is anything but comical. It is a journey through hell, the asylum as it was in the 1960s.

It is seen through the eyes of Leli, a mixed-up boy, prone to immense and destructive rages, who gets consigned to the asylum by his own father. This would not be possible today but the book is not really a description of what went on so many years ago but rather what happens when an ill-intentioned individual gets himself in a position of power where he can do anything with the people in his charge.

The book is in a way cathartic, a voyage towards salvation through coming to terms with the past, which includes severe beatings by both parents, ill-treatment at school and initiation to unasked-for sex by a priest in a darkened choir.

All these mutually reinforce the belief in him he is a bad person, "donkey boy", as the placard round his neck as a punishment says.

Till the end I could not understand the meaning of the title, which can be translated as "a sip of tea" but then from the context I surmised it had to do with gay sex and a forced and humiliating one at that.

Then, while researching for this review I stumbled upon the same expression used in LGBTIQ publications and my mystery deepened.

Leli admits he has gay tendencies, actually he has bisexual tendencies. However, right through the book gayness becomes a term of derision. He is called by the nurse who's out to humiliate him, pufta. All the time. Sex becomes a means to dominate, to humiliate the victim. Not an expression of love.

The author beautifully describes the small group of inmates who stand by each other and take care of each other till the end. They include a man who grew old in the institution not because he was mad but because he had sex with an underage girl and her father vowed he was never going to get out from there.

And one who was so highly sexed that a painting of the Madonna was for him a painting of a woman and turned him on.

In most cases there was not much to be done, except perhaps a freer regime and some contacts with women but in those far-away days these changes were inconceivable.

The book, overly long, is a hard read as one descends, like Dante's hell, circle after circle of heinousness. Then, as chapters begin to follow each other in swift succession, one finds himself turning page after page. That's when the end is near.