Over the summer months I have been catching up with my TBR pile of books in Maltese. First of all, because I enjoy it. Also, because I find it both ironic and sad that I tend to read more books in English than in my native tongue. When a Maltese book calls me, it instils in me a strange mix of feelings – love for local literature, pleasure at reading a book which speaks to me in my first language (and, more often than not, about the reality I live in), alongside a sense of duty towards what makes me what I am.
