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Filli ma tcun xein, filli tithol fl'esistenza jew Marzu, April, Mejju
120 pages, Paperback
Published October 31, 2024
1 person is currently reading
8 people want to read
About the author
Immanuel Mifsud
44 books57 followersImmanuel Mifsud was born in Malta in 1967, the youngest in a working class family of eight children.
He started writing poetry at age 16, when he co-founded the literary group Versarti. At that same age he began to work in experimental theatre groups, directing his own plays and later he directed plays by Chekhov, Dario Fo, Max Frisch, Federico Garcia Lorca, David Mamet, Harold Pinter and Alfred Buttigieg.
Immanuel Mifsud writes poetry and prose, and some of his works have been translated into various languages and published in various European countries and USA.
His 2002 short story collection L-Istejjer Strambi ta' Sara Sue Sammut (Sara Sue Sammut's Strange Stories) won the Malta National Literary Award. The same book was later nominated for the Premio Strega Europa. Mifsud's next collection of stories, Kimika (Chemistry) stirred a controversy for what was deemed as "pornographic literature". The Left leaning press lambasted the book for its "filth", while the leading Right leaning English newspaper never published reviews on this book. In 2008 Klabb Kotba Maltin published his most recent prose work, another short story collection, Stejjer li ma Kellhomx Jinkitbu (Stories Which Shouldn't Have Been Written).
Immanuel Mifsud writes also for children; his latest publication Orqod, Qalbi, Orqod (Sleep My Love, Sleep) being a collection of lullabies.
He has participated in a number of prestigious literature festivals, such as the Festival de Poesia de la Mediterrania (Palma de Mallorca), Dnevi Poezija in Vina (Medana, Slovenia), Terceti Trnovski (Ljubljana, Slovenia), Dni Poezie a Vina (Valtice, Czech Republic), and others. Some of his poems were published in eminent publications such as New European Poets (Graywolf Press), The Echoing Years (Waterford Institute of Technology), and In Our Own Words: A Generation Defining Itself (MWE), among others.
In 2011 Edizzjonijiet Emmadelezio published Bateau Noir, a collection of poems in a bilingual edition, with translations from Maltese into French by Nadia Mifsud and Catherine Camilleri.
On 12 October 2011 it was announced that Immanuel Mifsud won the European Prize for Literature, 2011, with his book Fl-Isem tal-Missier (u tal-Iben).
He started writing poetry at age 16, when he co-founded the literary group Versarti. At that same age he began to work in experimental theatre groups, directing his own plays and later he directed plays by Chekhov, Dario Fo, Max Frisch, Federico Garcia Lorca, David Mamet, Harold Pinter and Alfred Buttigieg.
Immanuel Mifsud writes poetry and prose, and some of his works have been translated into various languages and published in various European countries and USA.
His 2002 short story collection L-Istejjer Strambi ta' Sara Sue Sammut (Sara Sue Sammut's Strange Stories) won the Malta National Literary Award. The same book was later nominated for the Premio Strega Europa. Mifsud's next collection of stories, Kimika (Chemistry) stirred a controversy for what was deemed as "pornographic literature". The Left leaning press lambasted the book for its "filth", while the leading Right leaning English newspaper never published reviews on this book. In 2008 Klabb Kotba Maltin published his most recent prose work, another short story collection, Stejjer li ma Kellhomx Jinkitbu (Stories Which Shouldn't Have Been Written).
Immanuel Mifsud writes also for children; his latest publication Orqod, Qalbi, Orqod (Sleep My Love, Sleep) being a collection of lullabies.
He has participated in a number of prestigious literature festivals, such as the Festival de Poesia de la Mediterrania (Palma de Mallorca), Dnevi Poezija in Vina (Medana, Slovenia), Terceti Trnovski (Ljubljana, Slovenia), Dni Poezie a Vina (Valtice, Czech Republic), and others. Some of his poems were published in eminent publications such as New European Poets (Graywolf Press), The Echoing Years (Waterford Institute of Technology), and In Our Own Words: A Generation Defining Itself (MWE), among others.
In 2011 Edizzjonijiet Emmadelezio published Bateau Noir, a collection of poems in a bilingual edition, with translations from Maltese into French by Nadia Mifsud and Catherine Camilleri.
On 12 October 2011 it was announced that Immanuel Mifsud won the European Prize for Literature, 2011, with his book Fl-Isem tal-Missier (u tal-Iben).
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
January 16, 2026
The protagonist and narrator of Immanuel Mifsud’s latest novel is Edgar, a middle-aged confirmed bachelor who spends most of his working life at trade conferences abroad, bedding women he meets on his trips. At the start of the book, we find him juggling between two lovers. One is an old friend with whom he keeps a fairly regular, if open relationship. The other, Astrid, is his newest (younger) flame, whose girlish ways and fashion tastes captivate Edgar, while hiding a deeper character.
Edgar’s set lifestyle is upended when his mother, an elderly widow, is taken ill, back in his native Malta. He returns home and, sensing that his mother does not have much longer to live, decides to spend more time with her. This rediscovered closeness to his mother leads to the disclosure of long-held, surprising secrets. It also causes a sudden, and unexpected deepening of Edgar and Astrid’s relationship.
Mifsud’s novel borrows its title, written in archaic Maltese spelling, from a religious tract by cleric, poet and composer Amabile Sisner (1854-1923), which Edgar’s mother keeps by her bedside. Filli ma tcun xein, filli tithol fl’esistenza can be translated as “one moment you’re nothing, and suddenly you come into being”. One could consider this a reference to the narrator’s existentialist musings, as he ponders his past – or rather reconsiders it in the light of his mother’s revelations – and contemplates what it means for his identity and future. There are other religious touches throughout the narrative, even though this is by no means a “religious” novel. The book cover sports a phrase from a sermon by Pope Leo the Great - Cordis nostri secreta rimemur (“Let us know the secret of our hearts”) – certainly a reference to the secrets harboured by the various characters. And the lover who Edgar ghosts has a penchant for sharing Whatsapp messages with numerical references to Biblical verses. When one looks them up, one realises that they provide a clever if oblique counterpoint to the narrative.
The book’s “alternative” subtitle, besides evoking the style of 19th century novels (“jew Marzu, April, Mejju” – or March, April, May) refers to a poem by Ġan Franġisk Buonamico “Mejju ġie bil-ward u ż-żahar”. The poem acts as a witty reference to the timeline of the narrative (which plays out roughly over these months of the year) but also doubles as one of the Edgar’s vague childhood memories, hanging tantalisingly just outside of the narrator’s reach (he keeps returning to the poem, trying to remember whether the poem refers to March, April or May).
The novel is also characterised by recurring metaphors or motifs, which assume a Freudian (or Jungian?) symbolism. The tunnel leading to the Three Cities becomes a dark image, which Edgar seeks to exorcise. Then there’s the metaphor of the trees. “Do trees do nam nam?” Astrid asks coyly at the start of the novel – meaning, do they have sex? This rather silly question, typical of the rather cringy “inside” jokes of new lovers, also evokes memories of Edgar’s childhood, creating an unlikely link between Edgar’s flame and his mother. The trees, like the tunnel, are a leitmotif throughout the book.
Filli ma tcun xein has all the characteristics which should make me love it. It is imbued with a sense of melancholy and nostalgia, it is often poetic, it has a love story at its heart (balm to the soul of a hopeless romantic), it has playful post-modern touches and it is set in places which I know very well (the Three Cities are a five-minute drive from where I live). Yet, in certain respects the novel disappointed me. I found the concept of a male narrator who resolves his middle-age crisis by settling down in a stable relationship with a “redeeming” younger lover rather trite (a female friend who also read the book had a different take on this – she told me the narrator is simply not credible). For a novel which gives so much importance to female characters (only the narrator is male) I also sought a deeper and more nuanced exploration of their thoughts and motivations. The book, however, remains very male-centric – even when the narration moves into the second-person, with Edgar addressing his mother, or his lover/s, or both, the perspective is that of the male narrator. This slim novel could be developed into a more substantial and richer work.
Don’t get me wrong. Immanuel Mifsud is and remains one of Malta’s best authors, and even if and when he might not be at his best, his writing is a cut above the competition. In other words, this is still a novel I would recommend. However, I confess I expected more.
3.5*
https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/20...
Edgar’s set lifestyle is upended when his mother, an elderly widow, is taken ill, back in his native Malta. He returns home and, sensing that his mother does not have much longer to live, decides to spend more time with her. This rediscovered closeness to his mother leads to the disclosure of long-held, surprising secrets. It also causes a sudden, and unexpected deepening of Edgar and Astrid’s relationship.
Mifsud’s novel borrows its title, written in archaic Maltese spelling, from a religious tract by cleric, poet and composer Amabile Sisner (1854-1923), which Edgar’s mother keeps by her bedside. Filli ma tcun xein, filli tithol fl’esistenza can be translated as “one moment you’re nothing, and suddenly you come into being”. One could consider this a reference to the narrator’s existentialist musings, as he ponders his past – or rather reconsiders it in the light of his mother’s revelations – and contemplates what it means for his identity and future. There are other religious touches throughout the narrative, even though this is by no means a “religious” novel. The book cover sports a phrase from a sermon by Pope Leo the Great - Cordis nostri secreta rimemur (“Let us know the secret of our hearts”) – certainly a reference to the secrets harboured by the various characters. And the lover who Edgar ghosts has a penchant for sharing Whatsapp messages with numerical references to Biblical verses. When one looks them up, one realises that they provide a clever if oblique counterpoint to the narrative.
The book’s “alternative” subtitle, besides evoking the style of 19th century novels (“jew Marzu, April, Mejju” – or March, April, May) refers to a poem by Ġan Franġisk Buonamico “Mejju ġie bil-ward u ż-żahar”. The poem acts as a witty reference to the timeline of the narrative (which plays out roughly over these months of the year) but also doubles as one of the Edgar’s vague childhood memories, hanging tantalisingly just outside of the narrator’s reach (he keeps returning to the poem, trying to remember whether the poem refers to March, April or May).
The novel is also characterised by recurring metaphors or motifs, which assume a Freudian (or Jungian?) symbolism. The tunnel leading to the Three Cities becomes a dark image, which Edgar seeks to exorcise. Then there’s the metaphor of the trees. “Do trees do nam nam?” Astrid asks coyly at the start of the novel – meaning, do they have sex? This rather silly question, typical of the rather cringy “inside” jokes of new lovers, also evokes memories of Edgar’s childhood, creating an unlikely link between Edgar’s flame and his mother. The trees, like the tunnel, are a leitmotif throughout the book.
Filli ma tcun xein has all the characteristics which should make me love it. It is imbued with a sense of melancholy and nostalgia, it is often poetic, it has a love story at its heart (balm to the soul of a hopeless romantic), it has playful post-modern touches and it is set in places which I know very well (the Three Cities are a five-minute drive from where I live). Yet, in certain respects the novel disappointed me. I found the concept of a male narrator who resolves his middle-age crisis by settling down in a stable relationship with a “redeeming” younger lover rather trite (a female friend who also read the book had a different take on this – she told me the narrator is simply not credible). For a novel which gives so much importance to female characters (only the narrator is male) I also sought a deeper and more nuanced exploration of their thoughts and motivations. The book, however, remains very male-centric – even when the narration moves into the second-person, with Edgar addressing his mother, or his lover/s, or both, the perspective is that of the male narrator. This slim novel could be developed into a more substantial and richer work.
Don’t get me wrong. Immanuel Mifsud is and remains one of Malta’s best authors, and even if and when he might not be at his best, his writing is a cut above the competition. In other words, this is still a novel I would recommend. However, I confess I expected more.
3.5*
https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/20...
August 11, 2025
L-intimita bejn il-karattri, u l-konnessjoni tal-emozzjonijiet tagħhom mal-qarrej li joħloq Immanuel Mifsud, hi bla paragun.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews