‘Universities are not the utopias people imagine’

Maltese-born author and academic John P. Portelli speaks to Matthew Bonanno about his new novel, L-Università Mafja, the realities of life inside universities and why some of the events in the book are drawn from things he witnessed himself.

What is the book about?

The novel explores the intricacies of university life, focusing on aspects and events that people often assume do not take place in higher education institutions. Universities are frequently seen as utopian places but, based on my experience, both as a student and, later, as a professor since the age of 18, this is far from reality. The novel also includes elements of migrant life, particularly through the story of a professor who grew up in a village in Malta.

Where did the idea for the book come from?

The idea began to take shape while I was part of a university leadership team in Canada, where I have taught since 1982 and am now professor emeritus. Unlike the character George, I always taught in a faculty of education, focusing on educational leadership. After finishing a seven-year administrative stint, I reflected on my experiences in universities and wrote a paper titled Educational Leadership and Mafioso Traits. It was an academic critique of mainstream ideas about educational leadership, drawing “insights” from mafia films and books. The paper was accepted at an international conference but a senior colleague whom I trust advised me not to present it, warning it could damage my career. I never presented it and, eventually, destroyed it. Instead, I began planning this novel, which took eight years to complete.

What can people expect from the book?

Readers can expect a candid depiction of university life, including both its positive sides and its darker aspects, some of which, in my view, resemble mafioso dynamics. The story also contains several unexpected twists and surprises.

Given that the protagonist is an academic like you, how much of his character stems from your personal experience?

Although George is a central character, I see the novel as having two protagonists: George and Robert, both professors. In my view, one cannot exist without the other. Since the book’s publication, many people have asked whether George is based on me. He is not. Like him, I grew up in a village in Malta and left the country at 23 but much of his personal story is very different from mine. There are also differences in personality. I tend to be direct and outspoken, sometimes to my own detriment. George, by contrast, is more cautious and diplomatic. That said, while all the characters are fictional, many of the events in the novel are based on things I either witnessed myself or heard about from colleagues.

The book alternates between first- and third-person narration. What was the thinking behind this choice?

I generally prefer writing in the first person and find it more engaging. My short stories and my first novel were largely written that way, and I also tend to prefer reading novels in the first person. Initially, however, I avoided it for this novel because I worried readers might too easily identify me with one of the characters. But, after receiving feedback from two copy editors and two authors I trust, I decided to change the approach. The novel alternates between third-person narration in the odd-numbered chapters and first-person narration in the even-numbered ones. The third-person chapters focus on the present while the first-person chapters go back around 40 years. The two timelines converge in chapters 11 and 12. I also felt this structure made the novel more accessible and faster paced.

My concern for Palestine stems from a long-standing commitment to social justice...

What would you like readers to take from the book?

I believe readers should be free to interpret a book in their own way. Once a book is published, it belongs to the public and people can take from it what they wish. Good literature, in my view, should not deliver moral lessons. It can critique and suggest ideas but it should not moralise ‒ literature is not a sermon or a lecture. That said, I hope readers come away with a greater awareness of the complex and, sometimes, troubling realities of life in universities.

Much of your previous work concerns Palestine. How did you come to feel strongly about that cause and do you have hope that things will improve?

In the past two years, I have authored or edited three poetry books about the Palestinian cause and what I describe as the horrific genocide Palestinians have been experiencing. My concern for Palestine stems from a long-standing commitment to social justice and opposition to colonial oppression. During the last 15 years of my academic career, I taught in the department of social justice education at OISE at the University of Toronto, a department I helped establish while serving as director of graduate programmes. Earlier in my life, influenced by the late Fr Peter Serracino Inglott’s interest in Muslim philosophy, I learned classical medieval Arabic at the age of 24 and wrote my master’s thesis on Avicenna (Ibn Sina), which received a major award at McGill University. Since then, I have developed a strong interest in the Maghreb, the Mashreq and the wider Middle East. I have visited the region many times, including Palestine, where I volunteered at universities and witnessed the daily hardships people face.

I also created a master’s and doctoral course at the University of Toronto on narratives of migration and exile, in which students study and discuss Maghrebi novelists. I continue to teach this course once a year.

The launch of L-Università Mafja will take place on Tuesday, March 17 at 6pm at the University of Malta’s Valletta Campus.