When two quiet men form a tentative connection neither knows where it might lead. M has inherited his family's ironmongery business and B is younger by eleven years and can see no future in the place where he has grown up, but when M offers him a job and lodgings, he accepts. As the two men work side by side in the shop, they also begin a life together in their one shared room above - the kind of life they never imagined possible and that risks everything if their public performance were to slip. Unfolding in South Wales against the backdrop of Section 28, the age of consent debate and the HIV and AIDS crisis, this is a tender and resonant love story, and a powerful debut.
Anthony Shapland’s account of a relationship between two men in South Wales in the late 1980s, is quite remarkable. Set against a small-town working class Welsh Valleys backdrop, Shapland has created a tale representative of so many queer people’s experiences during one of the worst decades the LGBTQ+ community has ever seen.
I grew up in South Wales myself during this period, though somewhat younger at the time, and can still feel the intense oppression that was part of everyday life for all queer people, which in fact didn’t even register as oppression, it was just life. The HIV epidemic, Section 28, the age of consent, so many life changing issues debated with intense homophobia from the UK Conservative government and the media, on an almost daily basis it felt. The need to conceal one’s identity was suffocating. Unless in one of the larger, more cosmopolitan cities (and even then things were tough enough), living an open and honest existence was just not an option. So what hope could there possibly be for two men in a small Welsh valley village?
Written in deeply poetic and sparse prose, much of the remarkable nature of this book stems from what is not said. Shapland’s characters grew up knowing they had to constantly hide themselves, with no one to talk to about their true identities, and so it stands to reason that even though they eventually found each other, they still wouldn’t have been able to truly open up and discuss all their feelings and emotions buried deep inside. So Shapland, I think, cleverly leaves so much out or to our imaginations, which brilliantly adds to the quiet intensity of his prose.
It’s a beautiful, quiet, sparse and intensely poetic book, which I hope reaches the audience it deserves. For me, it will sit comfortably alongside the most renowned queer novels we have, including ‘Maurice’ and ‘Giovanni’s Room’.
Anthony Shapland's novella A Room Above A Shop tells the love story of two men in late 1980s' Wales, and it broke my heart.
What mesmerized me most about Shapland’s writing is his extraordinary ability to craft atmosphere – you can smell the damp grass and moss, feel the weight of the overcast sky, and see the buzzards circling above a landscape that is as vivid as it is lonely.
Then there’s his way of capturing awkward, fleeting moments – those encounters where bodies speak. Hands reach, fingers shred bottle labels, breaths meet in a drifting vapour. These details turn physical reactions into tiny protagonists of their own, shaping the emotional landscape as much as the Welsh hills.
And, of course, at its heart, a love story as intimate as the title suggests – tender und unforgettable.
A big thank you to Granta for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.
When you write such densely poetic prose, you're living on a knife edge. Some people can pull it off (Cynan Jones, Max Porter etc) and Shapland is not one of them. The actual story in A Room Above a Shop is fine, if a little thin, but the book has no flow. You can feel the author's presence in every single sentence so that nothing feels natural about the writing. I found the style and execution incredibly irritating and juvenile.
* Anthony & I are close friends, so take this review with a pinch of salt if you want. However me and Anthony collaborate together regularly, and have the kind of connection where we can be honest with each other about our work *
An atmospheric portrayal of gay, working-class life in a South Wales Valley, to read A Room Above a Shop is to feel held within the hands of a master craftsman in control of his form. This is truly an impressive debut, where the space in between the words and the things unsaid are given as much weight as the words on the page, with a poeticism unmatched in modern Welsh writing., I dare anyone to read this and not feel the ache of M and B’s story, their solitude and their desire.
Happy publication day, Anthony! And thank you Granta for asking me to endorse the book for the cover.
I REALLY wanted to love this, somewhat of a Welsh derivative of Brokeback Mountain, but just didn't. There were several factors leading to this, primarily the sparse, spare, striving for poetic, but too often overly flowery, prose.
Plus, it's really more of a novella than a fully developed work, with large font, white space paragraph breaks and each chapter beginning on a new page - it could easily have been printed on less than 100 pages.
Then, there's the distinct lack of character development - the MCs, somewhat pretentiously known only as M and B, are differentiated primarily by M being 11 years older - we find out some factoids about their families and such, but it doesn't really add up to much.
Spoiler alert - it all doesn't end well (although grateful that the hints about AIDS never come to pass), but when the 'tragedy' finally arrives, I felt virtually nothing. A disappointment all the way round.
This novella is lyrical and finely written. It is a gay novel in which nothing much happens and that is its joy -- such a relief from over-written gay novels that are high strung to the point of snapping the violin strings. Anthony Shapland realises that less is more and his lowkey approach to the lives of two men, the quiet threat of their Welsh environment, is commendable. The one negative is the trendy use of letters for character names. Why? This arch modernism adds nothing. There is a trend for poets to write novels -- they should read Shapland and learn!
A room in the shadows. A hidden closet.....................
Shapland writes through the cracks of lives hidden. He finds where some light manages to filter in and casts about in the shadows and gave us part of the story of M and B. Not even their names are whole.
It's so easy to dismiss someone who is just a shadow, not even a whole name, Shapland does not dismiss, he writes small flashes, small slices of life and so he took me along for a bit.
A quiet and sad read.
An ARC gently provided by author/publisher via Netgalley.
Although it felt confined somehow by its own brevity, there's some great writing here. Through the short chapters, the narrative in places turning from prose to poetry, as it follows its characters navigating homophobia, the anxiety, the secret slipping, the intimidation. Beautifully conceived, and at times in its starkness, its shortness felt a little stifling, but the poetic prose fulfills.
There is no doubt that Shapland can write, but this is too overwritten for me. When every single line is crafted and beautiful, it detracts from the novel rather than adds to it. This novel needed a better flow, more breathing space, more chances to sit back and appreciate, every now and then, the beauty of a sentence.
DNF at 70 pages. I could have easily carried on, I didn't hate it by any means. But I didn't care enough for it.
Written in an unexpected way. There aren't a ton of words on each page, but you still have to make your way through it very slowly to make sure you take it all in. It's the story of a slow blossoming of a relationship between two men in the 80s. I gasped and cried. It's well worth reading.
An Observer best debut novel for 2025, A Room Above A Shop is a lyrical, poetic novella about a gay relationship between two men in a small Welsh town in the 1980s.
The story is set against the backdrop of the AIDS crisis and section 28 (a law passed in 1988 by a Conservative government that stopped councils and schools "promoting the teaching of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship”).
Lyrical and poetic can often be a turn-off for me if I’m honest. On this occasion the staccato writing felt contrived at times and put me at a remove from the characters and the story. I loved the story and longed to feel a little closer to the characters, but instead I felt the author’s presence which isn’t a good thing. Overwritten = underwhelmed.
B and M meet and connect in a pub one evening, and build an intimate and quiet relationship behind closed doors in the room above M’s hardware shop. The relationship is tender and loving, and I’d have taken more of that and less of the smell of moss and rain in the surrounding countryside. Still, a short one that has some beautiful moments and a poignant ending. It also serves as a reminder of the fragility of LGBT+ rights in the world right now. 3/5⭐️
A Room Above a Shop is a novel about two men in south Wales who find a love they must keep secret from the world. Known only as B and M, two men meet and see something in one another. After an awkward New Year's excursion, they find a way to be together: B helps M with his ironmonger's shop, living above the shop together as if hew as an apprentice. Around them, the news talks about AIDS and Section 28, and they must keep their public performance up so they don't lose what they have.
This is a story told in vignettes, charting a love story in a poetic way through the small moments in the two men's lives. The ending is sudden, bringing with it the shock of how life can go, and I was pleased that it didn't take perhaps the other, more obvious, narrative turn. It's a literary portrayal of gay working-class life in South Wales in that time, focused on tenderness and emotion rather than a more dramatic narrative, so is going to be one for fans of books that are in that kind of style. Personally, I enjoyed it, but its sparseness left me feeling removed from it, so that didn't quite work for me.
A short (much too short) story about a relationship between two men in a rural Welsh community in the late 1980s and early 1990s. But despite its brevity, the novel does an incredible job of producing a queer phenomenology (cf. Queer Phenomenology: Orientations, Objects, Others) of all those everyday, small acts that constitute the quotidian life of queer individuals in a homophobic society. Most of that life is lived under very restricted conditions, with only brief respites from the constant, slow violence of cis-heterosexual dominance. I just wish the novel was longer, and I can't wait to see what Shapland does next.
The book gives us a glimpse into small village life in Wales in the late ‘80s. Two gay men navigating a world in which HIV has just reared it’s ugly head and where being gay feels impossible. The writing feels very poetic and dreamlike. It feels very dreamlike in how it is written, more snippets than a continuous story. At times it feels very atmospheric and at times it feels like more is needed to fully comprehend.
I really loved reading this book, it was a very deeply felt novella and I had such an affinity and tenderness for the main characters and their love. That being said, I had some personal issues with plot that, for the sake of spoilers, I won’t go into, but I still felt it worth reading. Beautiful sparse poetic prose, richly detailed, and atmospheric. Good comp would be max porter/brokeback mountain.
I read the book twice. once in a single sitting. It’s truly beautifully written. I found it moving and touching, evocative of place and time. I enjoyed particularly this bit:
What the hell is he thinking?
He shudders. He knows only too well what he's doing out here. He wants to pay attention to the bearded man with curled hairs at his collar, who smiled.
He gets up. His throat tenses in a grip that augurs tears, or nausea. He understands the stir in his gut; why he washed so attentively; why he's wearing his good clothes, new clothes with labels that rub. He'll go to hell for what he wants, but still he climbs.
And there were lots of bits that pulled me up short… quite breathtaking.
I enjoyed the formatting and layout. The physical book and font and paper are a joy.
I visualised Anthony Shapland’s film / photo work at times, which I guess would make it very filmic.
3.5 rounding down to 3 - not really a book for me, but I respect and appreciate what this is and what it aims to achieve. There are many people who love these kinds of books, with flowery, poetic prose (and I usually do too), but this focuses more on the description of impressions of feelings as opposed to any actual pathos from either of the characters we follow. They're more abstract conceptualizations of people, and the focus is more on the scenery than anything else. The ending was a little disappointing, because it had the potential for an emotional climax, but I was left unmoved.
Good writing, glad I read this, but not really a kind of story for me.
A quiet triumph, beautifully observed, emotional novel that lingers long after the last page. With exquisite attention to detail and an almost meditative stillness, the story unfolds in the intimate space of a room that becomes a sanctuary, a prison, and ultimately a place of self-reckoning. The writing is understated yet luminous, capturing the nuances of solitude, memory, and the quiet ache of trying to find one’s place in a world that often feels just out of reach. It’s a book that speaks in hushed tones but leaves a profound echo.
Beautiful, bittersweet tale of two men who fall in love in the South Wales valleys against the backdrop of the 80s. I devoured it in a few short hours but it will live with me for much longer.
“With sunlight, colour returns. Dew-soaked feathers and shrill stains pock the flattened grass. Mid-morning, the quiet heat is here still, unrelenting in empty streets.”
Shapland writes with exquisite tenderness, each sentence palpably quivering with the enormity of love, longing and grief. A Room Above a Shop captures the minutiae of love in all its beauty and complexity. This was a joy to read! 💚
Thank you Granta for sending me this beautiful book!
3.5 stars rounded up. With thanks to NetGalley and Granta for the arc. This short novel tells the story of B, a young, rudderless man and M, eleven years older and owner of a ironmongers, and how they find solace and purpose in their hidden relationship and sexual awakening. Set in South Wales against the backdrop of the AIDS crisis and Section 28 this is a poignant and, at times, claustrophobic portrayal of gay, working-class love and life during a particularly difficult period in British history. I found Shapland’s writing to be lyrical and poetic, although at times a little heavy-handed - it felt as if the author couldn’t resist the urge to over-write, when a more sparse prose may have served the story better in places. The over-use of metaphor and descriptive passages, whilst useful for helping position the reader in the scene, acted as a barrier to feeling connected to B & M - their characters get lost in the minutiae of their environment. Overall, a good read and a writer with great potential.
Anthony Shapland is a reinvigorating discovery of truth. In this short novel, words seem to find their place in unpredictable spaces where feeling comes together with memory and the simplicity of everyday circumstances. The style is brief, collected, yet pervasive - it becomes unbearable to stop reading. With resignation and care I came to the last page. Afterwards, I wish I had known more.
“As simple as an apple falling from a branch, they kiss.” Anthony Shapland’s quiet, intimate novel A Room Above a Shop finds M, who runs the family ironmongery business, meeting the younger B, aimless and uncertain, and offering him a job and lodgings in a closet-sized room above the shop. There the two grow close and, in the shadow of AIDS and Section 28 in 1980s small-town Wales, fall in love and make a secret a life together. Shapland’s sentences are sparse and controlled, yet convey such emotional depth of their characters and such a present sense of the world they inhabit, a world of glances and thresholds and the unspoken, but also of the undeniable physicality of desire and the urgency of love. Tiptoeing around spoilers I will say that the end is devastating, a kind of fait accompli as unthinkable as it is inevitable, and it really made me think about what any of us want or hope to get from love in a world of utter chaos, and what family means in the wake of loss. One particular image that has stayed with me since reading this is that of two watches, each engraved with the other’s initials, being worn to keep each other close in secret, the watches visible and public but the engraving something entirely their own. At a time when anti-Trans sentiment is so rife, and LGBTQ+ rights in general seem more fragile in the West than they have for the last 15/20 years, this story of pure love carried out despite great risk, and the waste of a love that can’t be celebrated, I hope will make us question the world around us and what we stand to lose if we do not stand in solidarity for the rights of everyone to love and live as they are.
When this book worked, it really worked for me. However, at times, the flowery language was so overdone that I struggled to understand what was being said. This was particularly frustrating during poignant, emotional exchanges between B and M. As a result, I found myself having to re-read certain passages, which pulled me out of the story’s rhythm.
That said, there are some truly beautiful pieces of writing throughout, especially when Shapland describes the room above the shop that B and M share—so separate from the shop itself and the village beyond. I also really appreciated the way he explored the different ways B and M encountered homophobia in their youth (B at school, M while working in the shop), and how this shaped their efforts to conceal their true selves. Two of my favourite passages are below:
B: “That’s where he learned. Learned all the things he needed to hide. If he got the wrong ear pierced, if he touched a boy’s hair, if he had fingernails, if he looked at his fingernails the wrong way, if he didn’t smoke, or didn’t smoke a certain way, if he threw funny, ran funny, caught funny, if he drew, if he sang, if he said a word differently, dressed differently, wore a watch on the wrong wrist. If he cried.”
M: “But every day the village tells him that, of course, men like that are born liars, untrustworthy, against nature, effeminate, weak. Light in their loafers, shirtlifters, nancies, benders. Men like that are a menace. Buggers. Keep children safe, boys away. Abusers. Corruptors. Perverts.
Sooner shoot their sons than father men like that.”
Whilst I did see the end coming, the anticipation of this moment arriving was far more emotional than compared to when it was actually laid out on the page.
>I read this book in a day, and I cant wait to go back and read it again to find what I missed. The writing style is phenemonal, evocative and symbolic but not needlessly drowned in flowery language that looses its meaning. The pacing is conveyed perfectly in the structure of the pages.
Aside from the technical aspects the story is what I needed right now as a queer person in this climate whos leaving their Welsh town out of fear of being trapped. In M and B I see my story, I see my worried, I see my relationships of past, present and future- I see me. The ending isnt happy, nor is it hopelessly sad, but it is realistic; it is an honest ending. Loss and grief of all kinds and of all things is an inevitable fact of life and something that needs to be portrayed. It isnt since Adam Silveras works a lifetime ago that I have felt this way about a book that covered such themes.
Ive already recommended this to a few people and have had my copy dedicated to my S to read this summer. So thank you for writing this, its what I needed.