Author ALEX VELLA GERA was catapulted into the limelight when one of his short stories resulted in an outright ban on a newspaper at University, and criminal charges brought against its editor Mark Camilleri. He talks to Raphael Vassallo about art, censorship and the public’s willingness to be shocked
‘Li Tkisser Sewwi’ – or more specifically, the reactions to this short story – has created something of a furore over the past three months. As the author of this piece, were you expecting it to generate so much media attention and fuss in general? And did last week’s news (i.e., that Mark Camilleri will be prosecuted) come as a surprise to you? No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t even aware that the story would raise eyebrows. I think I can state, officially, that my head is far up in the clouds for not predicting what happened. That Mark will be prosecuted, however, did not come as a surprise. I was hoping it wouldn’t happen but when it did there was nothing new there. But I’ll be extremely surprised if he is sentenced to prison. That, I do not expect.
Public reactions have so far been mixed, to say the least: there has been an outcry at the ban, but at the same time few positive critical reactions to the story itself. What do you make of the general public response to date? Obviously, as the author of the piece, I have insider knowledge about what it is all about. So it’s unfair to compare what I feel about the story with what everyone else feels, from the outside: everyone coming at it with his or her own baggage and prejudices, for better or worse. However, certain aspects of the public’s reaction I feel I must comment upon, and deny all over again. First of all, that my aim was to shock or offend. It wasn’t. If I had meant to shock readers I would have done an even better job than that. Secondly, those people who claimed they were ‘too disgusted to read the story through to the end’, I find ridiculous. Don’t these adults ever get out of the house? I mean, my knowledge of the language used in the story came simply from being alive, and keeping my ears open, and observing. I didn’t have to delve deep into some dark underbelly of Maltese society. I can’t understand how people get so shocked so easily. I don’t even find the story unsavoury. It’s sexually explicit, yes. So what? My aim there was for the narrator to describe sexual activity as candidly as possible. It’s not a question of taste or morality. Yes, the story may be in bad taste, but so what? Sometimes there are things more important than taste, like truth. In this case linguistic truth was of the essence. Another reaction I am finding hard to live with right now is that people are placing the story on their blogs and preceding it with an online poll for readers to fill in, asking whether what they are about to read is shocking or not. Do these bloggers realise that all they are doing is reinforcing a shock factor that I did not intend to begin with? So, that’s what I make of the public’s reactions. And those are just the positive reactions. Those who now consider me a latent rapist, or an exceedingly mediocre writer, or whatever, I will refrain from commenting about...
So far there has been little in the way of critical appraisal of the story itself from a literary perspective: which is odd, when you consider the decision to ban the newspaper was taken by a supposedly academic institution. How do you account for this? I have no idea. Or rather I do. I imagine that the deathly silence from that section of society is an appraisal in itself. Most older writers consider my story to be rubbish, not worth commenting publicly about, because otherwise they’d be legitimizing it...”
As an author, how do you feel about legislation which can be invoked to suppression individual publications/works of literature, as happened in the case of Li Tkisser Sewwi? The possibility of being prosecuted does wonders to one’s self-censorship skills, which in my opinion is worse than censorship by the authorities. With or without legislation pointed at me like a loaded gun, it is still my duty as a writer to go ahead regardless. Because writing is a way of life for me, and I cannot stop nor change my subjects or tone simply to fit into some preconceived idea of how I should be, according to whoever it is who sets the laws. So removing such legislation would obviously allow me, and other writers and publishers, to breathe more easily and to be ourselves without the danger of being shot down. Naturally, a serial killer could use exactly the same reasoning to excuse himself for his crimes. But there’s one big difference. With my writing I am not harming anyone. Besides which, censoring art just because it is vulgar, ‘filthy’ or even, dare I say it, pornographic, is counterproductive. Look what happened to my story: it’s probably the most read piece of Maltese writing in recent history. Not because it’s a great piece, but simply because it was banned. I know this has all been said before, but my advise to the authorities is simply. In order to neutralize a threat to the status quo, embrace it into the mainstream, then watch it die. So please, change the laws, double quick, and then we’ll get some quality writing in Maltese about sex.
It’s not just your story that is now more widely known than before - so are you. How have you coped so far with the newfound attention? Have there been any unpleasant consequences: e.g., hate-mail, insults, etc? I live abroad, and have not been to Malta since this whole furore began, so I’ve been experiencing it through a kind of virtual reality. It’s surreal to me. I keep to myself most of the time, I’m hardly an attention-monger, and yet here I am, with my name on the front page of The Times. To be honest I’m split down the middle here. As a person I like the attention, especially if it leads to concrete changes in the law. That’s an achievement, I guess. And I’m not the one in the hot seat. Mark’s taking all of the heat, so hats off to him. But as a writer? No, I don’t like it at all, because it’s for all the wrong reasons, and while it’s true that I have sold more books than I would have otherwise, and I’m being interviewed here and there (also for all the wrong reasons) the increase in sales has been negligible, I think (I haven’t checked with my distributor but he hasn’t got back to me to pick up more copies, so the first batch of 200 I gave him has presumably not sold out yet - so, 200 copies maximum sold, that’s not much is it?)
As for unpleasant consequences, no. I haven’t received any hate-mail and I have become immune to negative comments. I admit, at first some got to me, but now I’ve moved on.
Do you think this episode may have consciously or subconsciously influenced future writings? That’s a good question I have already asked myself, because recently I caught myself thinking aloud about whether I should tone down the scene I was writing. The thing is, on the whole, it has served me well. Because I have suddenly realised, in very concrete terms, that what I write in the intimacy of me, myself and I, is then read by a potential audience of thousands, so it had better be good. I think my quality control abilities have been heightened and I’m much more aware of their necessity. But as for subject matter and tone, no, my writing has not changed a bit. Perhaps many people are not aware that ‘Li Tkisser Sewwi’ is not at all representative of my writing. I don’t only write about sex. However, my next book (should be out after Easter) does deal with that thorny subject, but in an altogether different way than the story on Ir-Realta that all Malta now knows and loves. But most probably this coming book will pass unnoticed, won’t receive much critical attention, and won’t cause any controversy, because Maltese books (give or take a few exceptions) tend to be published and disappear down a black hole, especially when the author is not backed by a commercial publisher. Is that a good thing? In a way it is because I can get away with things in a book that perhaps a discerning law enforcer would not like me to, but it is also very depressing, if I think about it too much. Which I don’t. I just write.
Do you think the public reaction to ‘Li Tkisser Sewwi’ would have been different had (for instance) the narrator experienced an epiphany, and renounced his macho ways at the end? Or somehow ‘paid’ for his vulgarity by suffering some form of negative consequence? Yes, if I had included an epiphany or some form of punishment, probably the ‘vulgarities’ would have been tolerated more by many of those who condemned the story (morally), because it would have simply reinforced their world-view. They would have said, we see the message, it is a good message, but the writer could have used less bad language and sexually explicit descriptions. They are not necessary, they show a lack of artistic discipline, reveal a gratuitous immature mind at work, etc.
It’s been a while now since I wrote the story, but I clearly remember my intention. It was to get so completely inside the character’s head, and narrate things as seen and experienced by his one-track mind, yet somehow, through his actions, provide the reader with the opportunity to see things from the outside. But not through the narration itself, which never breaks out of character, so to speak. Only through the actions described. Which is not to say it was an ‘amoral’ story, because at the end of the day even the choice of subject and character reveals my moral standpoint. But the way it is written is not moralistic at all. There is no ‘Voice of God’ pointing out to the reader what is wrong and what is right. The ambiguity is intentional. And the character never hints that he’s having second thoughts, in order to get that message across. Why should he? He’s having a good time. He loves chasing skirts. Essentially he’s doing nothing wrong. His life is pretty sad and one-dimensional, but that’s about it. Besides, the sex described is consensual, except for the very last episode, which is where things start to fall apart. I have mulled over the possibility of writing a sequel, where he gets his comeuppance from that girlfriend he raped at the end of the story. But I think that’s where bad taste really comes into the picture. A sequel to that story? That’s all I need!
Any comments?
If you wish your comments to be published in our Letters pages please click button below. Please write a contact number and a postal address where you may be contacted.
No, I wasn’t. I wasn’t even aware that the story would raise eyebrows. I think I can state, officially, that my head is far up in the clouds for not predicting what happened. That Mark will be prosecuted, however, did not come as a surprise. I was hoping it wouldn’t happen but when it did there was nothing new there. But I’ll be extremely surprised if he is sentenced to prison. That, I do not expect.
