Favourite literature of 2011

The year 2011 was jam-packed with news-making events that had every social platform abuzz with excitement. The publishing world too produced some gems; literary works of art that could surprise, shock, enthrall and entertain. But unlike the near-rabid fashion in which other products are consumed and shared, books provide a more solitary, personal experience, unique to each who turn the pages. RACHEL AGIUS asked some avid readers to review their favourites among the 2011 reads.

Robert Pisani
Robert Pisani is a librarian and writes reviews for www.stagedivemalta.com.

Habibi by Craig Thompson

After the marvellous Blankets, I had a feeling Craig Thompson should just retire, as it be well nigh impossible to top such a personal and soul-searching comic but after a hefty eight-year wait he returned with Habibi, and although different than Blankets, it contains the same complexity and emotional resonance.

Habibi is a total change of setting, taking place in North Africa. Essentially, it is a love story but one where the two characters undergo many changes, which serve as test for their love.

Add magic, folklore and traditional Muslim customs and you’ve got a book that is highly addictive reading, not to mention Thompson’s artwork, which unfurls ma­dly with its thick curli­cued pencil lines on each page. It’s a 700-page vi­sual orgiastic feast.

The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes

Without giving too much away, the novel focuses on how past actions can affect future.

It’s also about memory and how unreliable this is. The Sense of an Ending, although very brief, carries a lot of clout and contains many twists and turns which keep the reader guessing about the plot development. It’s also worth mentioning that each character is so well-defined and memorable, even those who have bit parts have an impact in some way.

With The Sense of an Ending Barnes has probably created, in the process, one of the most thought-provoking endings ever.

I can see it being discussed during book clubs and book blogs. As a side note, it also won the Booker and Barnes and has been nominated quite a few times.

Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman

Kelman’s debut novel, Pigeon English, has a lot of elements which I like in books; for starters it’s filled with Jamaican patois riddled with words children tend to confuse and mix up; when this is done properly, it can lead to a poetic flowing style and this happens.

It’s a coming-of-age story and it’s about trying to survive when you’re of a different race. Other than those points, there’s also some great symbolism and a poignant ending. Sure this plot has been tackled many times, but Kelman gives it a fresh outlook. One of my big surprises of the year.

Diane Brincat
Diane Brincat is a student of Eng-lish literature and President of the Department of English Students Association.

How to be a Woman by Caitlin Moran

Having never so much as heard of Cai­tlin Mo­ran, I was definitely wary about reading her first novel How to be a Woman, her take on Germaine Gr­eer’s The Female Eunuch. Suffice it to say, Moran’s intensely personal and hilarious retelling of her experiences as a female in the 21st century echoes what every other female has endured, from her first bra, to her first job to her first love. What is truly striking about How to be a Woman is that by the end of the book, although Moran provides no instructions whatsoever, assuming you’re female, you’ll feel exactly like a woman, whatever that may mean to you.

Mark Camilleri
Mark Camilleri is a local writer.

The Leopard by Jo Nesbø

Ian Rankin, one of my all-time favourite authors and major literary inspirations, once said that in order to find out more about a particular country you need to read its crime fiction. And for the past three-and-a-half years (well before Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy explosion), I have been going through my own personal exploration of the Scandinavian Peninsula and its neighbour Iceland. And what an amazing insight it was.

One of Norway’s major exponents of this nail-biting genre (whenever properly applied) is undoubtedly Jo Nesbø. A former journalist, stockbroker and footballer by profession, he has managed to create a very credible and unlovable character in Inspector Harry Hole, of which The Leopard is the latest in the series and which features other seven instalments.

For the umpteenth time he exceeds the 500+ pages but nonetheless it’s a rollercoaster ride throughout Norway and beyond – Africa and Hong Kong among others – and thoroughly enjoyable.

The plot is very intricate – sometimes even bordering on the implausible – and centred on the murder of two women who are drowned in their own blood.

Is another serial killer (succeeding the notorious Snowman) on the loose again? What makes Nesbø quite unique, from the rest of his counterparts, is his penchant for extreme violence. A stark contrast with Norway pre-Anders Breivik.

Six Pack u Sonża by Donovan Gatt

The local literary scene is continually evolving – hopefully for the better – and launching new works by emerging authors. It is taking literature into new dimensions and venturing into our own heart of darkness and consequently reflecting, consciously or not, on the myriad facets of our contemporary society.

From the inane to the utterly ridiculous to scratching dirty (or bloody?) little secrets are hidden underneath our mundane lives.

Donovan Gatt’s debut – a splendid collection of witty, absurd and grotesque short stories – exposes all the different layers of imperfections and contradictions (hence the metaphorical six pack and lard of the title) which consummate us.

Gatt literally strives in the creation of a range of tragicomic figures – from the cannibalistic butcher to the paedophile priest or the narcissistic dentist and so on and so forth – and unleashes them on his readers with such a fury and sheer brutality that it almost hurts. That said, in his place I would have done without one or two of the stories, as somehow I felt they deflect a little from the flow.