Riħ Isfel
by Pierre J. Mejlak
The recent publication by Foundry Editions, in an English translation by Joe Gatt, of Ryan Falzon’s Sajf (the original of which I reviewed on this blog) set me thinking about other Maltese books set during the summer months. One which, for personal reasons, I remember fondly (although it is very different from Falzon’s irreverent Sajf) is Pierre J. Mejlak’s Riħ Isfel.
Originally published in 2007, Riħ Isfel was one of the very first novels in Maltese aimed at an emerging "Young Adult" market. It is, in essence, a missing-person mystery which plays out against the backdrop of a sleepy Maltese village during the hot, humid days of summer ("Riħ Isfel" is, in fact, a reference to the rather irritating warm southerly wind so typical of the Mediterranean). This is a setting with which the author – and most of his readers – are perfectly familiar: a close-knit community where everybody knows everybody else, where nothing ever happens, and where the few activities centre around the church, the village square, the band club and the local council. But this is also a place where, notwithstanding initial appearances, young people watch the same movies, listen to the same music and – more importantly – share the same dreams, desires and anxieties as their more cosmopolitan counterparts elsewhere.
We experience the events of the novel through the eyes
of three teenage boys – close school friends from the same village – who have
just finished their exams and can look forward to the gloriously long Maltese
summer holidays. The boys' language is peppered with (admittedly mild)
obscenities, and they fantasise about the girls they would like to go out with.
Nothing so controversial had the novel been published in English or been
intended for adults. In 2007, however, this was quite a new and shocking
concept in conservative Malta, leading the publishers to cautiously include a
warning on the cover about the novel's "explicit" language. As an
aside, I have it from the publisher that what prompted this warning at the time
was specifically the appearance, midway through the novel, of the word żobb
(Maltese for "penis", although, like a joker card, it can be used
colourfully in a variety of contexts). I am also informed that some secondary
schools still ban the novel from their libraries for that very reason...
Nearly twenty years after it first appeared, and now that it is far less likely to shock, Riħ Isfel can be enjoyed for what it is: a satisfying mystery story (perhaps explained a little too tidily at the end), with sharply observed characters and situations, enlivened by the author's sense of humour.
I have not been a "Young Adult" for some
time now. Having come of age, like Mejlak, in the same environment as the
teenagers portrayed in the novel, Riħ Isfel also proved to be a
nostalgic trip down memory lane, as bittersweet as the south wind which gives
the novel its title.
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