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Trevor Żahra: Vespri.
Merlin Publishers, 2015. 

As someone whose early reading habits were partly shaped by the treasure trove of adventures that was Trevor Żahra’s list of children’s books, I was thrilled with the release of a new collection of short stories late last year – and even more thrilled to learn that these were aimed squarely at adults.

The book, according to the accompanying press blurb, promised stories where the real merges with the surreal, laughter with pain, the normal with the bizarre. The cover certainly delivered on that promise; hinting at the religious, with more than a touch of the macabre and totally in keep-ing with the title of the book itself, which refers to evening prayer and is necessarily associated with the idea of ritual and the supernatural.

But first things first – one of the main things that should attract the non-habitual reader to pick up this book is its format. Vespri is a pocket-sized collection of 37 short stories – and I do mean short. Some of them might even qualify for flash fiction, which is great news in today’s times, when both time and attention span come at a price that few are willing to pay. To put it bluntly, if you’re looking for motivation to ease back into reading, this book requires no major commitment. Plonk it in your bag and read a story while waiting at the supermarket checkout. It’s that simple.

Only thing is, that as long as you’re fond of a good story, your commitment will be engaged automatically. You will find yourself hoping that the supermarket queue were just a tad longer, so that you may be able to fit in another story. Because these tales are addictive and you will find yourself thinking “just one more”. Żahra reels you in deftly and without your noticing, much like that cheeky extra biscuit that you promise will be your last... until you reach for another ‘last’ treat into an empty box. Or, in this case, until you reach the final page and realise that there are no more treats to be read.

Which is precisely what happened to me, when I started reading Vespri on a sunny Sunday afternoon to while away the time until some friends showed up for coffee. Let’s just say that I wasn’t much company that day. It started with Jezabel – three pages about a short car trip that veers between the creepy and the totally understandable.

Relationships in their most twisted format (psychotic/obsessive/controlling or even imagined) are a running theme in Vespri. The protagonists of these tales are rarely what one would refer to as ‘normal’ – and yet, despite this dys-functionality, somehow they still manage to inspire a strong element of empathy within the reader.

Take Gazzetti, where we meet Pawlina and her obsessive jealousy towards a former lover of her husband. It’s the kind of jealousy that in today’s world would have gotten Pawlina labelled ‘psycho’. And yet, somehow, we can still sympathise with the turmoil of emotions and the consequences on Pawlina’s life, no matter how dark a turn events take.

The writer is clearly a master of dark comedy, even though you may find yourself feeling somewhat guilty as you giggle over some poor protagonist’s misfortune

Sexuality in Vespri is often a dark affair, from the invisible stalker-turned-rapist in Inviżibbli to the couple who decide to experiment with bondage in Ħamsin Sfumatura (no prizes for guessing the inspiration behind this tale). But it has its improbably romantic moments too, like in the Gabriel García Márquez tribute Mħabba fi Żmien il-Kolera, where you might be forgiven for initially mistaking true love for a sordid affair.

And what’s more, even in the darkness Żahra still manages to make us laugh. Maybe it is the clever characterisation, which brings to life the oh-so-human quirks very vividly. Or, maybe, it’s the mixture of deus ex machina and Sod’s Law that is interweaved in many of these stories – whatever the reason, the writer is clearly a master of dark comedy, even though you may find yourself feeling somewhat guilty as you giggle over some poor protagonist’s misfortune.

The impish aspect of Żahra that also penned the likes of Minn Wara ż-Żipp and Nanna Ġenoveffa is strong even in this collection with a number of stories presenting delicate topics in a rather hilarious manner – but never once crossing the line into crassness. Patrick is a brilliant send up of the fixation some men have with their, ahem, body dimensions.

Żahra is a maestro at provoking contrasting emotions in quick succession. Thus, from the frivolous topic presented in Patrick our emotions are seamlessly plunged into shock with L-Għarusa, recounting one groom’s experience as he awaits his bride, and Ambra Solare, an ode to a love cruelly snatched away. But there’s more than sexuality, love and death in Vespri.

There’s also nostalgia for a time that won’t return in Il-Bhima, the ever-changing realities of old age in Id-Dar, a bit of the Oedipus Complex in Omm... the list of human emotions, sometimes hinting at the supernatural, at others completely mundane, continues.

Vespri is the kind of book that makes you forget that you’re on a supposedly short coffee break, so don’t blame me when you find that your afternoon has disappeared while you were enjoying ‘the last story before getting back to work’.

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