My side of the (obscene) story

Now that the Ir-Realtà/Li Tkisser Sewwi saga has ended, at least as far as the law courts are concerned, I feel I must present my side of the story. Hopefully, this will be my final word on the subject.

First of all, I was inspired to write the story back in 1997 after comparing Maltese literature (written up to that time) with other literatures, major and minor, and finding it lacking in one particular element: genuine realism when dealing with the more sordid aspects of our world.

I realised that this was a very obvious elephant in the room. Naturally, there are some exceptions in the canon but they are few and far between. Li Tkisser Sewwi was a direct reaction to this perceived lacuna in our national literature, which I felt in duty bound, as an aspiring writer, to address.

I believe that the reactions to the story when it finally saw the light of day in Ir-Realtà issue 8, in October 2009, prove how right I was to write the story and allow it to be published over a decade later. In fact, having observed the way events developed in the last two years following the publication of the story, I’d go so far as to suggest that the public’s reaction was very much an integral part of the story itself. By this, I mean that the artistic event was not the story per se but also the way it penetrated Maltese consciousness, for better and for worse.

In other words, the creative act did not stop with the writer but spilled over into the readership.

Let’s not beat around the bush. Li Tkisser Sewwi is an obscene story. That is where I agree with my detractors. However, in my view, obscenity has a necessary place in literature. Indeed, there are instances when obscenity is a highly moral form of art, certainly more honest and respectful of the reader than the emasculated, sanitised and sexed-up versions of violence, sexual or otherwise, rendered palatable for consumption as mainstream entertainment.

I recognise that my case has opened a can of worms. Where does one draw the line? Where does society say enough is enough?

I am by nature highly suspicious of free markets but I must admit that in the case of literary censorship a free market is the best option. I believe it is the most efficient way for the fluid nature of social mores to be brought into account when defining the limits to artistic expression.

In other words, if Li Tkisser Sewwi had really been a celebration of violence towards women, as claimed by certain elements of the mass media for their own nefarious ends, it would have been highly unlikely that Mark Camilleri and I would have received the support we did.

I’d especially like to emphasise the fact that a good deal of that moral support came from women, which is ironic when you consider that in the court house of public opinion I was accused of condoning, encouraging and celebrating the rape of underage girls.

In our statement released after the appeal sentence was announced in our favour, Mark and I announced, rather pompously perhaps, that writers are now freer than ever to write without fear.

That is not entirely true. In my view, Maltese writers were free before our case and even before Li Tkisser Sewwi itself was written.

It just so happens that I was the first to challenge (unknowingly in my ignorance and naïveté at the time) the laws governing artistic licence. Others could have done so before me. They were free to do so, just as much as I was free to do so. The fact that no one ever did says a lot about the state of self censorship in Malta.I realise that I am being unfair to certain writers when I say this, such as Immanuel Mifsud and Ġużè Stagno, who did push the envelope before Li Tkisser Sewwi, but it was always done in a studied and cautious manner, within the context of a published work of fiction and, therefore, largely “polite” and socially acceptable.

In my case, if I am guilty of something, it is that I was reckless and behaved like a bull in a china shop. I have no regrets nor need I apologise to anyone who was offended by my story. As George Bernard Shaw said: “The reasonable man adapts himself to the conditions that surround him... The unreasonable man adapts surrounding conditions to himself... All progress depends on the unreasonable man.”

I am guilty as charged. I have been unreasonable and I am glad for it. My not so secret wish now is that more unreasonable writers put pen to paper and set off a few literary bombs in our midst. Apparently it is safe to do so now.