Before Oliver Friggieri came along, there were, more or less, two types of Maltese adult literature: chick-lit or highbrow.
It was either romantic stories of women with full red lips falling in love with deep-voiced men (remember Twanny Scalpello reading these on Radio Malta?) or else intellectual literary fiction like Leli ta’ Ħaż Żgħir, incredibly elaborate but which needed a set of Sparknotes and a teacher to bring them to life.
Friggieri, made the greatest possible contribution to Maltese literature: he gave us something in between.
You’ve only got to read his Fil-Parlament ma Jikbrux Fjuri or Stejjer għal Qabel Jidlam to appreciate his twist on Maltese writing: it is a sharp and identifiable observation of society. His beautiful writing, unlike that of some of his contemporaries, is unpretentious and unforced; it simply documents life. And to do so, he does not use complex sentence structures, which make your eyes water.
His writing is not a showcase of his opinions. His writing just is. It does what books are meant to do, that is, they take readers to a different world.
There is not a smidgeon of superiority about his mastering of the language. He was happy, for example, for his It-Tfal Jiġu bil-Vapuri to be adapted to the medium of television. I remember at the time I used to work at Sapienza’s bookshop and people from all walks of life used to come and buy the book. While other authors snubbed television because they felt it too beneath them, Friggieri understood that authors needed to outreach. In fact, he so understood this that, back in the 1970s, he was one of the founders of Sagħtar magazine for children.
I have yet to come across a university student of his who did not adore ‘Oliver’. (How many other university lecturers in Malta are okay with students calling them by their first name?)
His love for his native language was contagious, he was approachable, insecure and human. He had lengthy life discussions with his students and he inspired many of the brilliant contemporary Maltese writers that we have today and many of our children’s brilliant Maltese teachers.
Perhaps his death will galvanise politicians to go a step further than writing eulogies on Facebook – as deserved as they are. Perhaps, in between erecting monuments, they will take the time to reflect and realise that Friggieri left a legacy that needs work to be kept alive and that’s not just in the form of a bronze cast.
The industry of Maltese books is on its last legs
The industry of Maltese books is on its last legs. Professional Maltese publishers are struggling, readers always shrinking and bookshops vanishing.
In other countries, it is customary to mark the death of great authors with displays of their titles in bookshop windows. Here, even on a good day, our handful of bookshops often relegate Maltese books to a couple of shelves in a corner.
In memory of Friggieri, the government’s Kunsill Nazzjonali tal-Ktieb should go beyond its remit of organising the yearly book fair and actually channel funds to open a proper, cosy bookshop on the high street in Valletta or Sliema.
This would be a space to promote good quality Maltese books outside the academic circles and help us all treasure this unique thing that we have: our language.
It would be the greatest tribute to Oliver.
The COVID-19 predictions as reported in this paper earlier this week are rather daunting. At the moment, the ITU at Mater Dei, which has up to 20 beds reserved for COVID patients, is at nearly full capacity and more than half of the patients admitted there are not making it.
By mid-December, it’s expected to get worse, which would mean two things: the ITU would need to increase its beds and medical staff from other wards, clinics and theatres would have to be redeployed to man them. Therefore, Mater Dei would, more or less, come to a standstill; all operations and treatment of other maladies would have to be shelved and medics would be burnt out.
What is the government waiting for to organise mass testing? Early detection and prompt quarantines would ease the pressure on the ITU and would allow a semblance of normality in other areas of Mater Dei.
It would also mean that our elderly locked up in homes would be able to see members of their families in the Christmas period (knock, knock Silvio Parnis: this was your job and that’s why you’ve been fired).
We can do nothing but wait for the prime minister to stop patting himself on the back. Each time he boasts how the situation is under control, he fails to keep in mind those 100-plus families who lost a loved one to this virus.
Till he makes up his mind about mass testing, we have to take matters in our own hands: create our own limited bubbles of people, wear masks everywhere, avoid crowds and indoor unventilated spaces, take long country walks and stock up on vitamin C, D and iodine.
To beat that feeling of a long bleak winter stretching ahead of us, I got the Christmas decorations out this weekend. “It’s still November, ma,” bemoaned the daughter. I know, I know. But, this year, I really need an early fix of twinkling fairy lights and shiny baubles for a bit of cheer.
krischetcuti@gmail.com
Twitter: @krischetcuti