Faith, Hope and Love by Llwyd Owen
Wales Book of the Month, June
Wales Book of the Year Winner
ISBN:9780955527272£9.99
“An absorbing fable... enjoyable and pacey.. providing a thoughtful take on what it means to be alive and how suffering can control and overwhelm you. {3-star Review.}” Time Out London
For anyone interested in family strife with an edge of naughtiness (sexual, biblical, betrayal and many opther words ending in 'al') I urge you to buy this book. It's full of great characters (Floyd and Paddy especially); it's very pacy, funny, tragic and is originally plotted with the action unfolding in the past and present, every other chapter. It made me laugh, it made me cry and I couldn't put it down.” P Turner, Guardian Books Blog, Read Blog
An emotional, gripping read.” www.crookedtongues.com
“Shifting in time and cutting the social classes of Cardiff, Faith Hope and Love is a well-plotted, pacey, urban thriller evoking the city of Cardiff and exploring notions of memory and identity.” South Wales Argus
A well-paced and tightly plotted novel that holds a magnifying glass to the middle classes to highlight their dark underbelly. Full of memorable characters and containing a powerful message, the author has created an unconventional thriller that will linger long in the memory. Lloyd Jones
An unrivalled plotmaster, a messenger from the underworld whose narrative leads us through the mist.Fflur Dafydd
Second only to the storytellers of the Mabinogi.Lord Dafydd Elis-Thomas
Peppered with contemporary references, the intricately-woven narrative is alive with the pitch perfect voices of a host of characters... an affecting and haunting tale.Wales Literature Exchange, www.walesliterature.org
Not unlike the Mike Leigh of Secrets and Lies, who points out the black holes of family life. An outright talent and natural storyteller.Martin Davis, Taliesin
Alun Brady was a bit of a Mummy's Boy, stuck at home in the suburbs. When grandfather Paddy makes his deathbed in their spare room, he makes Al face the hardest decision in his life. Later, just out of prison, Al's world is an emptier one. Drawn into Cardiff's underbelly, events darken as he discovers he cannot break free of his blood family.
Llwyd Owen is the author of four highly-acclaimed and controversial Welsh-language novels. His second novel, Ffydd Gobaith Cariad won the 2007 Wales Book of the Year award (Welsh language). Llwyd is also a published photographer and poet who lives in Cardiff with his wife and daughter.
“NEE- NEE- NEE- NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The alarm cracks the whip and I'm up from deep sleep like a slave obeying orders. My eyes, though, are closing again slowly as the sun seeps past the bars and warms my white face. I come to slowly; no point rushing, not in here. These last two years, my life has shifted from the middle lane to the hard shoulder. Like iron filings to a magnet, the snores of Knocker, my cell-mate, jerk me closer to the waking state.
There's nothing worse than an alarm at the start of yet another day in captivity. It seems so spiteful: to wake you up for what? To remind us bad boys we're not the ones in charge any more. Control is what you lose once you commit a crime, or at any rate once you're caught and sentenced.
Like most mornings, the stink of urine is suspended in the air along with our sweat. I open my eyes: the clouds disperse. Against the opposite wall, near the poster of Jemma Jameson – who's doing nothing to wilt my Morning Glory – leans Paddy, my friend in spirit; he is smoking a non-filtered Woodbine. God knows where he buys his cigarettes. But chances are it's all up for grabs if you live in that limbo between the living and the dead?
The alarm cracks the whip and I'm up from deep sleep like a slave obeying orders. My eyes, though, are closing again slowly as the sun seeps past the bars and warms my white face. I come to slowly; no point rushing, not in here. These last two years, my life has shifted from the middle lane to the hard shoulder. Like iron filings to a magnet, the snores of Knocker, my cell-mate, jerk me closer to the waking state.
There's nothing worse than an alarm at the start of yet another day in captivity. It seems so spiteful: to wake you up for what? To remind us bad boys we're not the ones in charge any more. Control is what you lose once you commit a crime, or at any rate once you're caught and sentenced.
Like most mornings, the stink of urine is suspended in the air along with our sweat. I open my eyes: the clouds disperse. Against the opposite wall, near the poster of Jemma Jameson – who's doing nothing to wilt my Morning Glory – leans Paddy, my friend in spirit; he is smoking a non-filtered Woodbine. God knows where he buys his cigarettes. But chances are it's all up for grabs if you live in that limbo between the living and the dead?
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