in the name of the father (of the son) – Immanuel Mifsud

“Now that the last sentence has been written and i’ve turned the page and found the cover, I can finally take a deep breath and turn out the light.”

Not my usual run of the mill book choice. Well, while going through Facebook at the airport, i came across a national geographic link which said ten books describing / about different countries. Some of the book choices are quite interesting (like the one i am reviewing now).

The book “in the name….” has been translated from Maltese and though, its a skinny 50 page book, i found it hard to read at one go. I would come across a line / paragraph / poetry and it would completely derail my thinking, digressing inwards and deeply introspective. For example, while reading one entire page full of what the author is afraid of, i came up with pages and pages of things/people/situations that scare me. I enjoyed it – my time through the book as much as my time sorting out my thoughts.

“You wanted to write your story so that some day your son would write the story of your story” is an apt summary of this book contents. The son reading the diary of his soldier father, goes through various emotions in this book – childhood / boy hood memories, conflicts, confessions, resentments, admiration and deep, sometimes dark, thoughts. It is sometimes a poem and other times a diary, never truly one or the other.

The language is beautiful and sentiments heartfelt. There is cruel selfishness as only a child can feel towards the parents, there is idolisation and disillusion of it turning into a mundane human, pathos and disdain along with pity and loss.

I did enjoy reading the book, though the end confused me, i did not understand what it implied.

 

 

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