IMMANUEL MIFSUD

text by PIXIE

 

Do you ever find yourself slowing down when passing a car accident to get a glimpse of the blood and the pain, merely to satisfy your own morbid curiosity? Do you ever find yourself straining to hear the couple next door’s very public (yet private) argument? And in your subconscious, do you ever feel what can only be called a voyeuristic pleasure at witnessing, or being a part of, what is ugly, deviant, yet oh-so-magnetic?

Immanuel Mifsud tells us that we are in fact turned on and attracted by what is disgusting and ugly. He says we may be living in a period where ugliness is somewhat glorified. He is known for delving into what is dark and deviant in his novels. In spite of this, he says that one day he’d like to write A Book of Smiles. PL’s Pixie caught up with Maltese author, Immanuel Mifsud, to learn more about the illicit, the voyeuristic, and attraction-repulsion of that which is ugly-beautiful.

 

Why do you choose to write about the underbelly of society?

Because it is interesting ... for me it is, anyway. I was raised in a staunch Catholic environment where every thing dark or incorrect was kept under wraps. It was a very sheltered upbringing. However there were cracks in the walls surrounding me, wide enough to peep through and discover things which were not supposed to be seen. And from an early age I became interested in those things which were so foreign to my environment, so unknown, so ‘bad’, illicit maybe. I was facinated by the unknown, the covert rituals and true stories. And I still am. The field is so rich.


Do you hope to achieve anything by airing the man in the street’s dirty linen in public?

No. It’s not my intention to achieve anything. I write about things that interest me. I’m not so sure I should do this; that is I’m not so sure I have a right to – as you put it – air other people’s dirty linen in public. But I do. We all hide facets of our lives, we treasure our intimacy, sometimes because our privacy may disgust ourselves. But these are the interesting things to know, and so, to write about. Interesting does not mean beautiful, of course. Most probably what is interesting is (almost by default) painful.


Do you think that ‘ugly’ or deviant is the pervading force in most people? Finally, do you think that deviant is ugly?

It is very probable that ‘ugly’ and disgust are pervading forces in all people. I think that we are at once turned off and attracted by what is disgusting and ugly. Deviancy, or the violation of norms and rules, is attractive, very attractive. Deviancy gives us pleasure, even if that pleasure is, eventually, loathed and  even punished. Just think of how many deviant acts gods (and not just criminals or the insane) have been recorded to have committed in legends, myths and sacred books. God committed two genocides, Zeus had countless numbers of mistresses and children. And we all know that at the end of the day these captivating stories are our own. Ugliness is ugly, but very attractive.


What is ugly, after all?

Yes, what is ugly? I don’t know what is ugly, because being a relativist I cannot really give a general definition of ugliness. Like beauty, it is so relative. I sometimes think that there is a whole culture, a whole industry, of ugliness. And it is very tempting for me to believe that we are living in a period where ugliness is somewhat glorified. For example I think that Marilyn Manson, to take one very obvious example, turned into an icon precisely because of his ugly make do. There are guys who actually go crazy for him (besides his very ugly music). I think those anorexic looking super models are actually very ugly, yet they are the present day demigodesses. The uglier Amy Winehouse looks, the more pictures of her you see. We love ugliness as much as we love beauty and it seems to me that we make sure we pass on the same attitude to the young. Sometimes I spend some time watching Baby TV with Nikol, my two year old son. There is a programme called Cuddlies. The creatures shown are anything but cuddly: formless shapes with huge eyes bulging out and with the stupidest voices I’ve ever heard. But it seems that children find them cute. Did you find the Teletubbies cute? I found them appalling. But everyone can remember the Teletubby mania of a few years ago.


Through your writing you often ask more questions than you answer, with no happily ever after in sight. Do you think that reality is more about the question marks than it is about the answer?

What is reality? I always tell my students that there’s no such thing as Reality. Life is made up of both questions and answers. Questions beg answers and answers create further questions. It’s like that. I never thought about my stories as questions with no answers.

In reading your stories, the reader often becomes the voyeur. Are we all to some extent voyeurs?

Definitely. We all love watching: beautiful things, stupid things, ugly things ... we are even inclined to look at things which we find revolting. See what happens when there is some fatal accident: crowds gather to have a good look at the tragedy and particularly the victims. They find pleasure in that too, otherwise they wouldn’t look. Which is morbid when you think of it. But I don’t think we can help it really. Now, as much as we love watching, we love showing. Think of Tista’ Tkun Int, or Facebook or Youtube. There is pleasure in showing as much as there is pleasure in looking. So I would say that, yes, I find pleasure in showing, in airing my characters’ dirty linen as you put it earlier, knowing that readers will find pleasure in looking at them. There is pleasure in knowing, and knowledge necessitates looks. Peoplespotting is a very popular social game.


Kimika deals with so-called sexual deviance. Is it in fact deviance, or diversity?

Deviancy is proscribed diversity, sometimes leading to taboo. But again, deviancy is very attractive to look at if not to commit. Kimika has had a long and painful story surrounding its publication. I shall not go into it because the highlights of the whole episode are known. I was even called a frustrated porno writer on L-Orizzont (28 Sep 2005) for writing Kimika. What really struck me in this last incident was the verve with which the correspondent described the ‘deplorable’ bits of the book, listing all the vices and leaving unmentioned the parts which were ‘approved’. Which brings me back to the argument of disgust being attractive. The deviant behaviour/acts I wrote about in Kimika are very painful matters. But even the deviancy of certain acts is a cultural variable that fluctuates vertically and horizontally. Once upon a time sexual relationships between adult men and adolescent boys were not deemed deviant. Nowadays they are considered deviant and even criminal. But not everywhere, as the case with certain Papua New Guinea tribes shows.


In the review to one of your books Claire Bonello states that the stories do not deal with epic heroes, but normal everyday people just trying to survive. Arent they in fact heroes in their own way? Or anti-heroes?

Unquestionably not anti-heroes. Anti-heroes have some sort of credo, a political ideology, or some other belief they hold on to; they have an aim in life which they fail to achieve. Once they formulate their goal their life becomes a continuous struggle, which means they are going to clash with some dominant or averse order. Failure is the foremost characteristic of anti-heroes. My characters lack the direction and the energy to accomplish anything. They just float, they live and exist and try to make sense in their little world. My characters have no delusions of grandeur and don’t aim high. They don’t believe they can change the world: they aren’t interested to change it, or maybe they don’t even know it needs to change. They just live by. Does that make them little heroes? I doubt it, because there is no sense of accomplishment, and as someone said, these characters seems to have resigned to life’s bitter-sweet ‘reality’. 


In the introduction to Stejjer li ma kellhomx jinkitbu, you express the wish to write a book of stories that actually make you smile. Do you think you ever will? The world in a Mifsud book is dark, with a glimmer of hope which is often snuffed out. Is this the world through your eyes? Or do you allow yourself that glimmer to continue existing?


I really wish to write something like that. Actually I may already have: the title story of L-Istejjer Strambi ta’ Sara Sue Sammut, one satirical story from Kimika, and also the Molly Mamo Monologues which were serialised on Illum some years back. But I want to write a whole book of smiles not just a story. Maybe I will manage, maybe not. My stories are not only painful to read, they are also painful to write. I find solace when I write something for children. In fact I had written my small book of short stories for children as an antitode to Kimika which had really worn me out, especially ‘Sonja’ and ‘Zerafa’. As with my last collection there are a couple of stories which I find very upsetting. But there is no glimpse of The Book of Smiles yet (there you are, I have the title ready but not the book). I am working on another children’s book and am waiting for my publisher to publish a small collection of lullabies. Having said this, I want to point out that the last story of Stejjer Li Ma Kellhomx Jinkitbu has a semi-positive ending, and so has the story ‘Bieb Bieb’, and others. 

Platinumlove Magazine , February 2009

 

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