Anna has lived alone for decades. She is cocooned by, and marooned in, an isolated cottage called Nant yr Aur in the Welsh mountains. The arrival of Siôn, a young man who seems strangely at home in the house, leads to an unpicking of Anna's past.
As Anna's relationship with Siôn develops - to the point where he feels comfortable showering at Nant yr Aur - her perspective on the solidity of her past shifts. Uncertainty, distortion, illusion and subtle betrayal are gradually exposed. Ultimately, a quietly devastating revelation changes the lives of both Siôn and Anna.
Sian Northey writes with economy and precision, setting out what the life of a middle-aged woman with an emotionally complicated past feels like from the inside.
Nothing really happened in this book but I really enjoyed it. This is the first book I have ever read (or seen!) that's been translated from Welsh and I feel so fortunate to be able to read from such a minority language. Big thank you to 3RebelPress for just existing and bringing such small languages to a wider English reading audience.
This book is about Anna who lives in an old house that she used to share with her partner. One day her partner decided he just didn't want to be with her anymore and left without a trace - she has no idea what happened to him or even if he's still alive. She gets a letter from a man called Siôn who is interested in buying the house, and when he finally comes to visit they uncover some quite dark shared secrets.
I liked how slow this book was and how a big focus of it was on memory. Anna being an old woman constantly is unable to move without pain and relying on others to complete tasks for her. So without being able to do much physically she does let her mind wander and we see some of the treasured memories she has of the house and some of the horrid things she had to go through in the relationship she had with her partner. It is a very nostalgic and slow book but one which really revels in it and I never felt bored once whilst reading this book. At the end there is a kind of 'reveal' which way really emotional and I absolutely loved the way this ended with Anna realising there is more of life for her to discover than just constantly reaching back into the past.
I hope more people discover this book and see what a treasure it is. At first I thought the writing was quite simplistic but I wonder what the big challenges were in translating this from Welsh which I know probably has some words and phrases which are difficult to put into English. It felt really intimate to read this novel and I would love to read more Welsh books which are written in the original language.
I'm always game for a good ghost story. "This House" is sort of a ghost story turned inside out. What if the living are doing the haunting? Sian Northey has written a beautiful book, filled with stirring imagery and gentle portend. Even at the end, I wasn’t sure just how I felt. It could be that Northey wanted me to pity her protagonist, but I didn't. The protagonist may have had the better portion.
Nofel gofiadwy am Anna sydd wedi ei chaethiwo i'r ty ar ol torri ei choes. Wrth ddarllen ymlaen deallwn fod Nant yr Aur - ei chartref wedi ei chaethiwo mewn mwy nag un ffordd ar hyd y blynyddoedd. Nofel fyrlymus ddarllenadwy
A beautifully written, poignant book about love and betrayal. One person's reflection on their past.
Loved the analogy on p. 41 of mould on strawberries to illustrate how something can be one way one moment and then without you seeing it happen, has changed beyond recognition and for the worse: ". . . like mould on strawberries. One day you think they're fine, and the next day you look in the fridge and they're not worth eating. . . . There has to have been a certain point, in the middle of the night, when there is no mould on them and another point, straight afterwards, when the mould is there. But no one knows what goes on in the darkness of the fridge in the middle of the night. Not even if you tiptoe downstairs barefoot and open the door suddenly and the light flashes on."
Would love to read another of Sian Northey's books for sure.
Nofel cynil, hyfryd sydd yn adrodd stori Anna, sydd yn gaeth i’w thy yn dilyn anaf. Mae’r stori yn un tyner, ac nad oes llawer o gyffro a bwrlwm yn perthyn iddi, rydych chi eisiau plicio’r haenau i weld beth sydd yn digwydd nesaf a pham. Mae pob cymeriad yn teimlo’n onest ac yn real, ac rydych yn teimlo dros pob un yn eu ffordd. Edrych ymlaen i ddarllen mwy gan Sian Northey.
The titular abode of Sian Northey’s This House (2013, tr: Susan Walton, 2024) is Nant yr Aur, a solitary cottage somewhere in rural North Wales. As a young girl, Anna Morris was fascinated by the place, though she only ever got to see inside in her thirties when, by chance, the door was unlocked. Now she’s in her late fifties, both its owner and solitary resident. However, it wasn’t always that way as she got married to Ioan Gwilym, who was in residence that day over twenty years before, and together they had a son, Dylan.
When the novel opens, Anna has discharged herself from hospital after a fall (“Whisky was a new habit.”) into the comfort of Nant yr Aur. Her leg is in plaster and her mobility is somewhat hampered. Even though she sees herself as independent (“She didn’t need anybody”) she relies on the assistance of elderly friend, Emyr, who runs errands on her behalf, and his wife, Dora. It would be fair to say that little happens in This House because much of the events have already occurred. This is a quiet novel of processing the past to break out of the present.
Home from hospital Anna is immediately “feeling the house relax around her” but like the plaster cast on her leg, it’s really a restraint, only emotional. Nant yr Aur is a house haunted by its past, a place where grief is contained within its walls. There are offers to buy the house, although selling up is not worth consideration. One potential buyer, a young man called Siôn, seems able to slip under Anna’s usual defences, perhaps because the memories she’s holding on to are projectable onto him.
With a slim cast, each with their own secrets and lives beyond the house, Northey’s story is a relatively straightforward and sensitively drawn affair about breaking out from the routines of grief and grasping what life is left. It’s nicely observed, with time loss, hazy memories, and everyday tasks standing in for purpose. All as one may expect when an idyllic love story slips into a personal nightmare which gets more devastating as long-buried revelations are outed. But the book is not without some optimism. Once Anna walked into this house and chose to stay, but doors can work both ways.