I fell in love with literature the instant I realised it was better at telling the truth than history, or journalism for that matter, says Karl Schembri.
“I grew up in a house full of books. There were all sorts of books about everything, mostly my father's, from the history of the Church to the occult, from Freud to Saint John of the Cross. My father had the most eclectic library I could ever ask for, arousing my curiosity about everything,” local author Karl Schembri says as he discusses his connection with literature.
The young Schembri would spend hours reading and browsing these books, even though he could barely understand what they were about. But they aroused in him a curiosity for the written word.
“There was something special about taking in something that you read, processing it, making it yours, without anyone to decide for you or impose their ideas, or judging you. I must have spent more time with those books than with people in my childhood.”
Our connection to childhood memories, good or bad, helps shape our consciousness. Schembri’s literature undoubtedly links back to his younger years where education seemed to have been a major priority in his upbringing.
[attach id=880534 size="medium" align="left" type="image"]Taħt il-Kappa tax-Xemx (Minima, 2002)[/attach]
“My mother taught me how to write before I even went to school. So between the image of countless books lining our walls and the realisation that I could also write somehow, I must have got the idea that I wanted to write too.
“As if to make that idea even more obvious, our house was also home to dozens of typewriters that my father used to teach typing. So I would sneak into his office whenever he wasn't around, stealing reams of paper, and type stories, poems and all sorts of things that came to my mind, and then bend them to look like little books.
“I fell in love with literature the instant I realised it was better at telling the truth than history, or journalism for that matter.”
When your path in life seems so clearly set out, with all the structure, opportunity and access almost handed to you, it might seem like a granted route – but when it comes to literature, no matter how many typewriters you’ve used or books you’ve read, it’s all about the art of writing and the passion to back it up.
[attach id=880531 size="medium" align="right" type="image"]Passju Taħt Ix-Xita (Horizon Books, 2013)[/attach]
“It must have been when I was studying Maltese and English literature in secondary school that I found so many authors had put their thoughts and feelings in writing that I wished I had written myself. I remember reading Kafka's The Trial and almost feeling jealous that someone else could capture, so vividly, the absurdity of the justice system. That novel came back to haunt me when I was sent as a junior reporter to cover the law courts, not to mention Parliament. It was even truer than I had thought.
“Ultimately, literature is what we need when facts stop telling us the truth.”
Schembri is known for his poetry, short stories and novels, but his artistry in creating for either genre is completely unique to the other.
“With poetry it tends to be quite impulsive, but also there needs to be an urgent feeling for the need to write. I get a verse in my head that tends to set the beat and the rhythm, and then I persevere from there.
“With stories and novels I have to be much more disciplined and I find the prospect daunting. It's a bit of a paradox: I need to know that I have the time I need to write something uninterrupted for me to even start, but the more time I have, the less the urgency I feel to write.”
Schembri’s take on character building might be what sets his work above the rest.
“I love testing characters in my daily life. How would he or she react right now to what I'm going through? What would they say? What kind of language would they use to respond to an ATM that stopped working or to someone who crashes into their car? I love doing that as I find it gives me the depth to write about them even if the scenes I'm placing them in have nothing to do with what I think about them when I'm not writing.”
Finding ways to keep your writing fresh is probably the biggest concern for writers in general. Switching between genres or styles, as Schembri does, is what pushes an author to develop their skills – and it’s quite the learning curve.
“Journalism has taught me so many things: concision, the imperative of deadlines, looking out for the quirky side of things to explain the mundane, the soundbite, chopping off the dead wood (as my great mentor, the late Joe Mercieca used to put it), telling a story in the best possible way and exalting the sensational so that everything else makes sense, which is closer to our primal fears and desires than many of us bother to admit.
[attach id=880537 size="medium" align="left" type="image"]Il-Manifest tal-Killer (2006)[/attach]
“Yet when I'm writing creatively I also love digressions, the playfulness of language, opening brackets and more brackets as a plot unfolds.”
Schembri’s literary role model is José Saramago, an author he recommends for reading during the current pandemic, as his work highlights the struggles of isolation and how people cope with the pressures of pandemics.
Schembri currently lives in Jordan, where restrictions during COVID-19 are strict.
“We have a very serious curfew and restrictions on our daily life in Jordan. During the weekends we have a total lockdown – nobody can go out at all, at risk of ending up in prison for a year. During the week we can go out between 8am and 6pm for shopping. Paradoxically, if you asked me a couple of months ago about writing under self-isolation, I would have probably told you that's exactly what I needed. What I find instead is being totally distracted and unable to focus on anything.
“My guess is that, for me personally and also for many others, this bizarre moment which we don't know how long will last nor how will end, has forced us to confront that essential, terrifying question, the answer to which might be fatal: what makes life worth living? Beyond all this, my biggest writing block is always the fact that everything that had to be said has been said. We're merely paraphrasing stuff.
“Meanwhile I'm anxiously waiting for the next big idea and the conditions that would make it inevitable to be written.”
Although the good books have all already been written, Schembri’s motivation to keep that quality writing going is still strong – It-Tifel li Salva d-Dinja, a children’s story, will soon be published by Merlin. He has also published The Lulu Diaries, about his kitten from his time living in Gaza, and a new edition of Il-Manifest tal-Killer is set to hit the shelves soon.
This interview is part of a series of interviews with local authors, supported by the National Book Council. Read interviews with Alex Vella Gera, Clare Azzopardi, Walid Nabhan, Nadia Mifsud and Ġużè Stagno.