Bitter up to the very end
Sergio Grasso: Imrar, Printwell, 2011, 179pp. Sergio Grasso’s Imrar is well-titled since an ever present acerbic tone is heard throughout all the stories and the poems interspersed among them. The writing reveals a young, bitter mind trying to make...
Sergio Grasso: Imrar, Printwell, 2011, 179pp.
Sergio Grasso’s Imrar is well-titled since an ever present acerbic tone is heard throughout all the stories and the poems interspersed among them.
Grasso is definitely good at transmitting human emotions, especially in exposing raw sadness at the loss of someone close- Charles Sammut
The writing reveals a young, bitter mind trying to make sense of life, his parents, his relationships and even himself.
The author’s explorations enable us to hear the voices of other selves in the stories while in the poems the author’s voice is heard more directly, sometimes addressing humanity, other times aimed at a god who does not always manifest his presence.
The writer shows an ambivalent need to find safety in God as a father, which is echoed in the many father-son relationships present in his tales.
In fact, the father figure looms high on the narrative’s horizons and not only because Grasso is the son of the prolific Anton Grasso, but also through the constant references to the paternal image, whether by alluding to mythology, Christian religion or even his own father.
Grasso seems to be following in his father’s footsteps in the genre; chosen to explore the fine line that separates sanity and madness especially where passion overrides all logic.
In his tales, there is a sadistic adolescent relish for knife-wielding and gore that is embedded within predictable story lines, as in L-Ixkupa and Imrar. Both stories tend to wallow in a sense of melodrama that usually characterises the writing of young authors still finding their own voice and style.
Grasso is definitely good at transmitting human emotions, especially in exposing raw sadness at the loss of someone close.
Ġawhra Mitlufa is a powerful emotional journey of a friendship cut short brusquely. It is an immersion in the darkness of that terrifying enigma which is death.
The excruciating pain of losing someone you love and who has changed you in life is palpable. It is in this story that the writer most successfully utilises the twist at the end.
The reader is emotionally carried away, which allows the ending to come as a surprise in spite of the hints given in the story’s unfolding. Maybe it is because this is the shortest story in this collection that makes it so powerful, in that the author does not allow himself to slip into a morass of words.
This is a luxury that he sometimes allows himself even in his poetry, where sometimes the repetitive use of a technique as in Erba’ Bewsiet lil Marti Maryanne, Għalija u Għal Min Hu Bħali and Ir-Raqda detracts from the poem’s power by drawing attention to itself.
In this collection, women are mainly portrayed as man-devouring and life-depleting succubae who would make any militant feminist proud of the sisterhood.
The only female character for whom the reader will find any pity is Katrin in Id-Destin Ma Tixtrihx Karlin, which takes us on this woman’s journey of fatally trying to find acceptance from a cold, prejudiced world which is not able to see beyond the exterior.
The other stories all portray females as harsh criticisers of males. There is not one sympathetic mother to be found in these narratives; all are harsh and distant women who are jealous of the bond that exists between their husbands and sons.
All paternal characters, although flawed with mainly a weakness for alcohol, come across as blithe spirits who protect their sons from the overbearing mothers.
The women cheat on, abuse, and harangue their husbands who tend not to be good family providers. This element is taken to extreme in Żewġ Ċrieket, which is a modern gothic tale that gives more than a nod to writers like Edgar Allen Poe and indulges in the fear of being buried alive.
Unfortunately, this story and Id-Darsa suffer from a series of clichés which make them unintentionally amusing.
Imrar as a collection shows glimmers of the author that Grasso can become as he matures in his writing. Young Grasso’s anger is given free rein in these narratives which might have been better channelled with a bit more linguistic restraint.
Still, readers who love the macabre will enjoy this collection as it takes them on a journey of minds twisted by passion, madness and life’s darkness.