Faith, Hope and Love by Llwyd Owen
Faith, Hope & Love by Llwyd Owen
Wales Book of the Year Winner
ISBN:9780955527272£9.99. Published on 13 May 2010
Launch party at Gwdihw Cafe, Guildford Crescent, Cardiff, 7.30: author readings, music by The Gentle Good and The Garden of Edam, bar. RSVP:
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 three 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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