Sergio Grech: Il-Lejl tal-Irġulija, Horizons Publications, 2010, 143 pp.
There are certain historical periods in Maltese history that are still very much taboo. There are decades which, when mentioned, still instil in us a mixed reaction, from anger and indignation to downright bafflement. One such period is the 1980s, a time when Malta was undergoing rapid political and sociological changes.
It is heartening to see an author like Sergio Grech tackling the period confidently and dispassionately. In his first foray into narrative literature, Il-Lejl tal-Irġulija, Grech explores a young man’s coming of age in the late 1980s. Against the background of a highly polarised society when it comes to politics, religion, and morality, Grech shows us the difficulties of growing up in such a volatile society.
Robert, the protagonist, is an awkward hero. Brought up by his aggressively socialist father, doting mother, and a fanatically religious and overbearing aunt, he retreats into his own little world.
Grech continuously makes reference to the ‘bastions’ that Robert has built around himself. In a terse statement towards the end of the book, Grech sums up his anti-hero thus: “He went into school tame, and came out more dazed than before.”
The most striking aspect of the book is perhaps the fact that Grech manages to create in Robert an endearing figure despite his many flaws and shortcomings. This is indeed surprising considering that Robert is neither good looking, nor particularly intelligent.
He is also painfully aware of his abilities and limitations, and is constantly baffled by his wife’s devotion to him when she could have had someone much better than him.
Il-Lejl tal-Irġulija is not for readers who look for adventure and excitement. There is little ‘action’ to speak of and no deep philosophical explorations.
Instead, Grech seeks to understand his subject through daily routine. Indeed, the action takes place within a very small timeframe, although with several substantial and important flashbacks. Despite these flashbacks, we learn more about him from his everyday existence then from his recollections.
Grech’s language is fluid, bordering on the poetic. I hesitate to call it ‘poetic’ simply because he carefully controls the tension between what is factual and what is poetic.
I admit some may find Grech’s style unnerving, but one has to admire the author’s restraint. Characters like the overly religious Aunt Lina might have easily turned into a caricature in the hands of a more volatile author.
The only aspect of the book I would unreservedly criticise is the front cover design. I hate using such strong words as ‘ugly’ in reviews, but I can think of no better word for it. The belfry coming out of a blurred collage of newspapers feels more like the cover to a school project than a novel.
Moreover, it gives the impression that the book deals solely with politics and religion, when in real fact the book deals with a whole lot more.
On the other hand, the one aspect of the book I would unreservedly praise is its conciseness. The book feels like just the right length; any shorter would have made it trivial, any longer would have made it ponderous.
I have deliberately avoided reviewing this book over the Christmas period, what with all its hype and gilded trappings. Now that the festivities are over, and life is settling back to normal, I would heartily recommend this book to anyone struggling with winter blues.
This novel might not make you stop shivering from the cold, but it will certainly put a smile on your face - a warm smile full of nostalgia and hope.