Glen Calleja | Sleep seduces us to think that once we enter it, we are going to find rest

Could you tell us about your trajectory as a writer?

My first writings were little passionate poems in secondary school; a salad of rhymes, cliches and borrowed causes and themes that I made my own. It was what I was exposed to at the time, all I knew. I suppose that was the most important writing I ever did; my poorest poems. There was plenty of intrinsic motivation in those early works.

Eventually I started discovering different writers and styles. At first it was Whitman, Ted Hughes, Eliot, lots of Eliot, the great John Fowles, Auster and Czeslaw Milosz. Then my appetite veered towards more experimental and conceptual approaches to poetry, from Ginsberg to Flarf to conceptualists like Juliana Spahr. Later on, quite by accident, I stumbled upon the work of Tumas Salamun and Joshua Beckman with whom I found unique resonance.

In my university days, I was lucky enough to be good friends with some like-minded artists like Caldon Mercieca, Albert Gatt, Karl Schembri and Michael Zammit. We fed off each other’s energies, provocations and ideas and those were truly formative years in terms of poetry writing and literary growth and experimentation for me. 

What was the process behind SOMNVM like, and how does it differ from your previous work?

SOMNVM originated as a commissioned piece to be presented to an audience at the Jesuits’ church in Valletta. So, it was conceived as a script to be recited to an audience during All Saints Day in 2024. I wanted to write about sleep, how it seduces us to think that once we enter it, we are going to find rest. As a chronic bad sleeper, I knew how false that illusion was and yet how compelling it can be. I also wanted to write about death, be it natural, by accident or by choice.

The process of writing SOMNVM was similar to my usual approach. I typically start by researching a theme, gathering little unstructured fragments of notes. My writing is 80% note taking and 20% self-editing. In this case, since I had to present this to an audience, I eventually started moving the fragments towards a coherent narrative.   

How did it feel to win the National Book Prize?

It felt nice.

Who are some of your favourite Maltese writers working today?

There are quite a few local writers that are still alive, that I look up to and who I feel indebted to. They are all silently there when I’m writing, as teachers and as imaginary readers and critics.

When reading or editing I prefer strong distinct voices, writers who understand and look for nuance and who are not scared to take bold risks. But what truly connects me to other fellow contemporary local writers is the passion for the process, discussing approaches to writing and editing, progress and failures irrespective of the genre they write in and their standing in the local literary hierarchies.

What’s next for you?

Last year I lost a notebook full of drafts and notes. I left it behind me on a plane or at the airport. So, for the past few months I have been trying to re-write some of those fragments and work them into new material. I’m working on a text about interspecies friendships and communication with inanimate objects, a deep dive into contemporary animism.  

In collaboration with the National Book Council, MaltaToday will be interviewing the winners of the 2025 National Book Prize. More information regarding the awards can be found at ktieb.org.mt/