La vida de la Rebecca Jones

by Angharad Price, Yannick Garcia Porres (Traducció)

La vida de la Rebecca Jones s'ha convertit en un clàssic modern des del primer dia de la seva publicació. És una poderosa evocació lírica de la vida entre les muntanyes de Gal·les, d'un estil de vida a punt de desaparèixer que enfonsa les seves arrels en la recòndita vall de Maesglasau. I al mateix temps, La vida de la Rebecca Jones és una íntima crònica del segle XX, sobre el dolor i la vida, sobre el pas del temps i el paisatge, sobre la soledat i la memòria, una història commovedora en la qual tot un món sembla a punt d'esvair-se davant dels nostres ulls.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, 21st Century, Book Club, Novels, British Literature, Roman

192 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2003

About the author

Angharad Price teaches at Bangor University and is the author of three novels.

Reviews

[Margitte · Rating 4 out of 5]

I will only water the content of this novel down by trying to write 'an activity' for it. It is one of those books that doesn't require any words of explanation.

BACKGROUND
- A farm in the remote valley of Maesglasau, east of Dolgellau in Merioneth, Wales;
- A family who occupied it for a thousand years when this book is finally written; - the continuance
of the family through the cycles of history - the last hundred years in particular.
- the genetic surprise - three blind brothers and a family who adapted and suffered financially in
the process to give them a chance in life;
- a sister who loved them like a mother, who never got married, and experienced love only once in
her life.
- the loneliness of being the only survivor of the family, with all the memories and nobody to share
it with, and the need to finally tell their tranquil story on their behalf (Angharad Price, the welsh author, did a great job, capturing the ambiance of an eroding culture & language perfectly in English).
- the sadness of an era which was fast disappearing into our clinical, cold modern world.

I couldn't figure out at first what it was: a memoir, a biography, or an autobiography of Rebecca Jones, as told by her great-niece, Angharad Price, but in the end it turned out to be a beautifully translated novel. The family did exist. But the first person narrator did not write the book. That's what it boils down to.

No matter how it is approach, the story ended up being a what if recollection of a 92 year old woman who lived her entire life on the farm, serving family and history in her own way. The author managed to fuse nature with poetry and render a perfect sympathy for the soul.

The book made me sad, melancholic even, for various personal reasons. One reason is that we're all getting there where nobody really wants to hear our stories, and loneliness will be our final friend in old age. However, it also gripped my attention, reminding me of the innocence and romance of a tough life for gentle people, which became so totally unknown to us all. How time and history ripped our minds and hearts out. How devoid of goodness we have all become.

I normally don't read reviews before I commit my 'activity'. But my eye caught Roger Brunyate's review and I immediately sensed that I don't have to write one myself. :-) He is one of my favorite reviewers to boot.
READ HIS REVIEW

This is not a group-think experience, but the book is going places and it is attracting mega followers. You might want to discover the reason for yourself.

All I can add is that it is a MUST-READ!

[Paul · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a remarkable piece of work. Sometimes when you read a book it feels so familiar that you think you must have read it before. I felt this about Carr’s Month in the Country and about this book. The beginning of the Guardian review sets the scene:
“In 1964, BBC Wales made a short film about three brothers, blind from birth or infancy, raised on a farm in the lovely and remote valley of Maesglasau, east of Dolgellau in Merioneth. Their genetic fate both closed and opened doors. Special education away from home meant that Gruff went to Oxford and became an Anglican clergyman. William – who returned to the farm – worked as a polyglot Braille editor. Lewis, the Benjamin of the family, would programme computers and, in retirement, become a prize-winning blind artist.”
Rebecca Jones was their aunt and it is her life that is told here: part novel, part history, part portrayal of rural life. Her family have lived in and farmed the valley for over a thousand years and can trace their roots in the valley to 1012. Rebecca Jones was born in 1905. Angharad Price is the great-niece of the siblings, making her Rebecca Jones’s great great-niece. She is telling her own family story. The original is in Welsh. The landscape of the valley and its moods and climate are almost another character. Over the course of the book we are taken through the changes in the twentieth century. Jones is portrayed with great dignity and perception and with a good deal of warmth. If you are tempted to read this don’t read any introductions and don’t turn to the last page!
This work is also profound and reflective. Rebecca reflects as she ages;
“Continuance is painful. It is the cross onto which we are tied: its beams pulling us this way and that. A longing for continuance lies at the heart of our nature, and we lie at the center of those forces which pull us this way and that like some torturer. Our basic urge is toward continuance. Yet, we are born to die. And we spend our lives coming to terms with that paradox.”
The language is poetic, even in translation:
‘This was a reversal of creation. The perfection of an absence. / Tranquility can belong to one place, yet it ranges the world. It is tied to every passing hour, yet everlasting. It encompasses the exceptional and the commonplace. It connects interior with exterior.’
There is a good deal of prose by Hugh Jones, a hymnodist but it is family and location that matter most:
“Memories of my childhood reach me in a continuous flow: smells and tastes and sights converging in a surging current. And just like the stream at Maesglasau, these recollections are a product of the landscape in our part of rural mid-Wales at the beginning of the twentieth century. Its familiar bubbling comforts me.
It was not really like that, of course. The flow was halted frequently. Indeed a stream is not the best metaphor for life's irregular flow between one dam and the next.
I have not mentioned the reservoirs. In these the emotions congregate. I approach them with hesitation. I stare into the still waters, fearing their hold on my memories. In terror I see my own history in the bottomless depths.”
This novel/history is simple and yet written with great profundity, set within a very specific and limited landscape and seeming to contain the whole world. The history of the family has its sadness’s with the loss of several children over the generations, two world wars, the coming of mechanisation and electricity.
I would recommend this book to anyone who reads; it is quite brilliant.

[Fionnuala]

That Angharad Price’s family have lived in the same Welsh valley for nearly a thousand years should be enough to ensure that this beautiful description of a century in the life of the valley is valued highly. Where else would we get such a loving and intimate record of a place that has known little change for generations upon generations. Price skilfully blends the history of her family, and in particular, of her great aunt, Rebecca Jones, into a hymn of praise to the valley itself so that we can see it, hear it and smell it, so that, in the end, the landscape merges perfectly with the main character and the main character becomes the landscape. Another beautiful book celebrating ‘place’ to add to my collection.

[Julie]

10/10

Without preamble, this goes immediately on the Read Again (And Again) shelf.

What treasures we find when we go rooting through goodreads' friends old reviews! I found this one hidden in Fionnuala's archives, sitting on a 2012 shelf, a silent and prim little Welsh girl ... the book, I mean, not Fionnuala!

Old souls there are among us, but rarely do they make themselves known. They are too wise by half to announce themselves; or boast vaingloriously of their travels through time. Once in a long while, if we are lucky, one comes along and sits beside us, and tells us a story. A story that runs like an electric current up and down the spine; that makes all the senses glad, and awake; that makes one ponder the meaning of the universe in not a glib, new-agey way, but in a deep, let-us-call-it Tintern Abbey sort of way.

I heard Wordsworth's echoes from the first,

and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur.—Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.

As I read from Rebecca Jones's life,

I have raised a temple to tranquillity amid the ruined homesteads of Cwm Maesglasau. I have idolized it in the valley's stream as it whispers past, and as the flow disappears into the bend in the big field. ... I too have lived in this valley's quietness all my life: the first half in its mouth, the second half in its tail; the first half with my family, the second half without them. Cwm Maesglasau is my world. Its boundaries are my boundaries. To leave it will be unbearably painful. But this I know: when I move on, and when my remains are scattered on the land at Maesglasau, I will have given my life to the fulfilment of this valley's tranquillity.

I listened to this Old Soul continue her whisperings in my ear, and I grew a heavy heart, and then a happy one. I pondered all the sadness she had lived, which she spun into joy, and I lived that too. I cried her tears. I laughed the children's laughter. I carried a stone in my heart for all those who were lain in the earth -- some under cover of darkness, for it was the way they came into the world, and so must leave it the same way.

And in those words that the Old Soul spoke, I heard the wise old poet again,

While here I stand, not only with the sense
Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts
That in this moment there is life and food
For future years.

... and again ...

And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man:
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of all thought,
And rolls through all things.

I heard it all in the Old Soul's voice, for she travelled from Tintern Abbey, I am sure of it, down the long stream of time and told me again what I had forgotten. I had always heard those echoes, 'though sometimes but faintly. Now, they are embedded within my skin.

I've known Old Souls to take you by surprise, but I never (in two hundred years!) would have expected the surprise that awaited me at the end of her story. And I laughed out loud with sheer joy. Of course it would, and should, end this way. Of course. The story would be meaningless otherwise. For it is the story, just like the poet says, of the "presence that rolls through all things".

I can't imagine not having read this now, for I've always known this story. It only needed someone to remind me.


[The translator must be an Old Soul too, who travels along with the Storyteller, for I cannot imagine this book being any better in the original Welsh, so perfect is its essence in English.]

[Diane Barnes · Rating 4 out of 5]

A fictional autobiography with a twist. Such beautiful writing that these 176 pages feel like a 500 page family saga. Rebecca Jones narrates the story of her family, including her 3 blind brothers, and their 1000 year old farm in Wales. Being poor and suffering hardships was never an excuse not to see the beauty in the world, even if that world is just a few square miles in size.

"I have felt the rough fist of misfortune and the soft palm of joy. I learned that the price of having is losing".

[Eibi82]

¿Qué es la familia? Un ancla que nos mantiene en el sitio. Nos contiene seguros en la tormenta. Nos retiene en la bonanza. Es una bendición y un lastre, en particular para los jóvenes y para quienes procuran libertad. Uno de los momentos más pasmosos de la vida es cuando comprendemos que de pronto hemos pasado a ser ese ancla. Este cambio repentino es tan apabullante como instantáneo. Es el relevo generacional. Nos lanzan al aire sin previo aviso, para luego hundirnos en las profundidades del mar salado. El ancla agarra entonces. Todo se asienta.

Termino esta lectura con la sensación de haber vivido un viaje épico. Es sin duda una de mis mejores lecturas del año y ni siquiera sé cómo hablar ella haciéndole justicia.
La vida de Rebecca Jones es original y única. Una lectura emocionante tanto por la historia familiar como por su manera de contarla. Belleza narrativa en estado puro que traspasa las páginas, que evoca y emociona de una manera tan nítida y clara que hace imposible no sentirse parte de ese valle galés y de la familia Jones.
Un dulzura poética que, como dice Marta Sanz en el epílogo, expresa cosas muy poco correctas desde el punto de vista político. Y tanto que sí.
Rebecca teje con recuerdos la historia de su familia y la del propio valle de Maesglasau de manera brillante. Es la vida con todos sus claroscuros, un homenaje precioso que me acompañará durante bastante tiempo. Su voz es de las que no se olvidan. O! Tyn y Gorchudd.

No he hablado de los embalses. Es donde se concentran las emociones. Me acerco a ellos con paso vacilante. Me quedo mirando sus aguas calmas, temiendo la atracción que ejercen sobre mis recuerdos. Aterrada, contemplo mi propia historia en sus profundidades insondables. Nadando contracorriente, me aventuro hasta la primera represa. La que cambió el curso de la vida de toda la familia de Tynybraich.

[Roger Brunyate · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Month of Women Writers

[My actual review of this slim novel-memoir follows below after the divider. But I want first to say a few words about the project that it brings to a close.]

May was my month of reading only literature by women. I missed the first week, so have gone a week into June; both months have women's names, so same difference. I started the streak by accident, but continued because, for whatever reason, my proportion of female authors this year had sunk below 30%, and I prefer to keep a better balance than that. Besides, I thought it would be interesting to see how it would be to immerse myself in the feminine sensibility for an entire month. (My longest stretch of male authors, by contrast, has been around 2½ weeks).

The 17 books I read over this 30-day period are as follows: Maggie O'Farrell: This Must Be the Place ; Kate Chopin: The Awakening ; Valeria Luiselli: Faces in the Crowd ; Virginia Woolf: The Voyage Out ; Iris Murdoch: A Severed Head ; B. A. Paris: Behind Closed Doors ; Helen Maryles Shankman: In the Land of Armadillos: Stories (stories); Elena Ferrante: The Lost Daughter ; Maylis de Kerangal: Naissance d'un pont ("Birth of a Bridge"); Mélanie Francès: Anatomy of a Love Affair (poetry); Maylis de Kerangal: The Heart ; Elizabeth Church: The Atomic Weight of Love ; Danielle McLaughlin: Dinosaurs On Other Planets (stories); Han Kang: The Vegetarian ; Lauren Belfer: And After the Fire ; Amity Konar: Mischling ; and finally this one by Angharad Price: The Life of Rebecca Jones .

It is interesting to see that there has been some variety within this all-female group. English and American writers have dominated, but there have been two books by a French author, and one each by French-Canadian, Irish, Italian, Korean, Mexican, and Welsh women. There is one book of poetry, three collections of stories, something that might almost be a memoir, and one mystery. The three Holocaust novels are an anomaly, although this is a subject that interests me in terms of the technical challenge it poses authors. While most of the books have been new this year, the others stretch back over 100 years. [Sometime soon, I must try a stretch of reading only older books—though this would mean giving up free ARCs for a while.]

There is no significant difference in quality between this and an equivalent group of men; why should there be? My average ratings are pretty much identical. Though this group contains both my best new book of the year (The Heart) and what I trust will be the worst (Behind Closed Doors). Add to that two other quite remarkable new books (The Vegetarian and In the Land of Armadillos), another (Mischling) which greatly impressed others but not so much me, and three slightly off-center classics (The Awakening, The Voyage Out, and A Severed Head) and it has been a pretty remarkable month.

When I started this project, I hoped that the immersion would enable me to pen some sage words about the Feminine Sensibility, but now I mock myself for even thinking it! True, there are almost no books here written from the perspective of a solitary male protagonist: A Severed Head is the obvious exception, though Iris Murdoch uses the male character largely with satirical intent, to skewer the moral fecklessness of men. Equally true, almost all the others either have female leading characters or are studies of relationships, and the quasi-memoir form of The Life of Rebecca Jones and Voices in the Crowd—not to mention the "I" voice of the poet in Anatomy of a Love Affair—of course looks at its female subject from the inside out. There are no books here relying much on action, skulduggery, or force, but that tends to be my preference anyhow. On the other hand, the Holocaust stories in In the Land of Armadillos make no concessions to some supposed feminine softening, and the brilliant Naissance d'un pont—describing the construction of a vast bridge, for heaven's sake—is about the most "masculine" book I have read all year. Go figure.

======

Continuance

Continuance is painful. It is the cross onto which we are tied: its beams pulling us this way and that. A longing for continuance lies at the heart of our nature, and we lie at the center of those forces which pull us this way and that like some torturer. Our basic urge is toward continuance. Yet, we are born to die. And we spend our lives coming to terms with that paradox.

"What makes a novel a classic?" opens the introduction by Jane Aaron. Although first published in Welsh as recently as 2002, O! Tyn y Gorchudd ("O! Pull Aside the Veil!") won numerous prizes, was sponsored by the EU and the BBC, and has been adopted as a set text by various Eisteddfods or Welsh arts festivals. Hence this translation by Lloyd Jones. But does it translate? The book's fascination is that it captures a century of life on a small farm in a Welsh mountain valley, Cwm Maesglasau, perhaps the last century in which such a life would be possible. And it captures it in the names and music of the Welsh language. This is both the joy and the impossibility of the book, that it breathes the sounds and spirit of an ancient place, where merely to name the surrounding mountains is an invocation to gods far older than the Calvinist Christ of the village Chapel:

The thrill of those heights never lost its magic. As we ascended, different shades of green gave way to the peat bog's somber tones and the darkness of ancient oak woods. The marshland extended in one direction as far as Dyfi Forest and the heights of Aberangell and Mallwyd; in the other it stretched to Gribin Fawr and Gribin Fach, the onwards to the vale of Llyn Mwyngil. Here was lowly moorland unevenly spread, like a huge rumpled blanket, decorated with bell heather and bilberry, cotton grass sticking out like duck down.

At last, having reached Craig Rhiw Erch, I could pause to get my breath, facing the mountain peaks: Waun Oer, Foel y Ffridd, Foel Bendin, Glasgwm, Mynydd Ceiswyn, Mynydd Gwengraig and Cadair Idris. But I never ventured to the summit of the Cadair. It was said you'd come down mad—or a poet.

As it happens, I have climbed Cadair Idris. I trust I am not mad. But much of the poetry is lost to me for while I know that there is liquid music in those names, it is not music I can make myself. Even a rudimentary appendix on Welsh pronunciation, or better still a phonetic glossary, would have been helpful.

Rebecca Jones was born in a sheep farm without electricity or plumbing. She worked from home as a seamstress, while observing the men's work in the farm around her, changing with the passing of the seasons. She had many siblings, although several died in infancy or childhood, and—presumably because of some genetic cause that is never explained—three of her brothers were born blind. Because they were sent away to special schools, all three of them traveled more and had a richer education than she enjoyed. Rebecca herself never left the valley except, in later years, to borrow books from the library in Dolgellau, the nearest town. Her life of over 90 years encompassed distant ripples of both World Wars, and saw the eventual arrival of electricity, television, and computers. When the BBC makes a short film about the three brothers in 1964, and she goes into the town to see it, it is the first inkling she gets about her brothers' lives in England. Towards the end of her life, they send the family an archive videotape, which by now they can play in the farmhouse itself. But it is a bittersweet memory:

The greatest pain was the lie perpetrated by the film. It seemed to say that nothing changed, yet showed clearly that nothing lasted. It "immortalized" the visible world. Yet, I—who had been invisible in the film—was the only one who still lived. And more than anything, I resented the way my own multi-colored memories had been obscured by searing images in black and white.

Only a written memoir could ensure the continuance of such apparently unimportant, but fully colored, memories as these. And indeed a memoir is what this book appears to be; there are even a grainy photographs of the farm and its people. Yet Rebecca's story is indeed a novel. What makes it so are the last three lines of the book, wondrously sad and terribly beautiful at the same time.

======

p.s. This makes a wonderful comparison with Robert Seethaler's recent A Whole Life, which I read and reviewed few weeks later. Also the birth-to-death story of mountain-dweller, only in that case a man, and from the Austrian Alps.

[Bettie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Bettie's Books

The rating, any status updates, and those bookshelves, indicate my feelings for this book.

[Shawn Mooney (Shawn Breathes Books)]

My grandmother’s memoirs were written better than this. I loved my grandmother very much, and you would have to love the protagonist of this novel a whole heck of a lot to give a rat’s ass about the mundanities so dully narrated here. Bailed a fifth of the way in.

[Ingrid · Rating 5 out of 5]

A moving story about a Welsh family in the first half of the 20th century. I spent many a year with Welsh friends in that area, so it felt like coming home. It's a worthy tribute to the little Rebecca Jones.

[nettebuecherkiste · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rebeccas Mutter hieß ebenfalls Rebecca und kam einst als junge Braut in das entlegene Tal Maesglasau. 7 Kinder sollte sie haben, von denen jedoch nicht alle überleben würden. Rebecca wird 1905 geboren und ihr Leben wird das gesamt 20. Jahrhundert umspannen.

Angharad Price erzählt uns die Geschichte einer Bauernfamilie, wie sie als typisch für das ländliche Wales angesehen werden kann. Ihre Sprache ist wunderbar poetisch, anrührend, verzaubernd. Man wünscht sich, das Original lesen zu können, denn das Walisische hat eine reiche poetische Tradition, die auch in Rebeccas Familie eine große Rolle spielt. Der Übersetzer merkt im Nachwort beispielsweise an, dass Rebeccas Sprache uns möglicherweise zu “gebildet” vorkommen könnte, dies aber im Walisischen nicht ungewöhnlich ist. Die wunderbare Sprache weckt die Sehnsucht nach dem märchenhaften Wales und führt uns seine Schönheit vor Augen.

Es ist ein einfaches, einsames Leben, von dem Rebecca berichtet, ein hartes Leben, die Familie ist viel mit Krankheiten und Behinderungen konfrontiert, und doch erreichen einige von Rebeccas Geschwistern einen akademischen Beruf. Ganz unberührt von den Kriegen bleibt die Familie natürlich auch nicht, in Rebeccas Fall sorgt er für eine kurze und unglückliche Liebesgeschichte.

Auch wenn man es in einem solchen Buch nicht vermutet, es gibt einen Twist, der das Buch noch einmal aus anderer Perspektive erscheinen lässt und es für mich umso wertvoller gemacht hat.

Dieser kurze Roman ist ein literarisches Kleinod für Wales und, sofern man dies anhand der Übersetzung beurteilen kann, die walisische Sprache.

[Anna · Rating 3 out of 5]

After what may have been an excess of non-fiction, I found the 90 minutes spent reading this novella pleasantly soothing. It is a simple tale of a woman born in rural Wales a the start of the 20th century. Positive as the experience was, however, I did not find it particularly exceptional, despite the blurb proclaiming it ‘an instant classic when first published’. This made me consider what makes a novel ‘classic’ and what virtues a classic novel is usually expected to embody. ‘The Life of Rebecca Jones’ is a very simple tale of an impoverished family, briefly told in unadorned language. It reminded me very much of A Whole Life, another short novel of just the same structure, also feted as a classic. In both cases, although I found the tragic moments of family life in the narrative moving, the whole did not have much impact on me. This is clearly a matter of taste and not a problem, nor should it put anyone off either novella. Use of the term ‘classic’ to describe them interests me, though. Both make a virtue of simplicity in style and content, to the point of extreme spareness. I wonder to what extent their ‘classic’ status represents a yearning for prelapsarian rural idylls, for a time when poverty could apparently be considered noble and when an individual in the West could plausibly be totally isolated from technology and the wider world. In a sense, both works are so brutally realist as to circle back into the fantastical. Or am I being unduly cynical?

An alternate theory: neither novella was originally written in English, so I may have missed some elusive quality by reading them in translation. The introduction to ‘The Life of Rebecca Jones’ (which I read last and spoils the ending, as always) does comment on the difficulty of doing justice to the original Welsh. Perhaps the beauty of Wales can only be properly conveyed in its mother tongue? For fiction so seemingly grounded in its environment, I found it frustratingly functional and unwilling to embroider details of the hills, valleys, and waterfalls mentioned. On the other hand, I liked the inclusion of black and white photos very much. Perhaps novellas don't give me though time to quiet the more analytical part of my brain, allowing immersion in the narrative world? It's unlikely to be a coincidence that the novels I've found most involving and compelling have all been more than 500 pages long.

[Infosifter · Rating 4 out of 5]

A beautiful and poetic short novel about the role of family and land in rural Wales throughout the 20th century. Three of the surviving children in Rebecca's family inherit genetic blindness, so almost all of the family's scant resources are used to pay their fees at schools for the blind far away in the bustling cities of England. Because of this, Rebecca and her surviving able-bodied brother have no opportunity to receive more than a very basic education. They take up caring for the family home and farm as their ancestors have done for a thousand years before them, a life filled with all the joys and sorrows common to mankind. Despite her physically narrow circumstances, Rebecca is nourished by the beauty of her surroundings and her rich inner life. Her heart is fed on the books she reads and her imagination. Above all, she knows that her way of life is evanescent -- that change is more eternal than the most ancient of human customs.

this novel is a translation of a work that was originally written in Welsh, and I'm certain that a familiarity with the language would add enormously to a readers enjoyment. Even without understanding the words, being able to hear them in ones mind would be a great advantage – sadly one I lack. The book also references many songs and poems that welsh readers would recognize, so outsiders likely lose a bit of the impact without this background. Nevertheless, this is a beautiful evocative story well worth anyone's time.

[Irene · Rating 4 out of 5]

The beauty of the language in this short novel was mesmerizing. Inspired by the author’s great aunt, this traces one woman’s life in rural Wales during the 20th century. The realization that what is recalled here is no longer, that a way of life has vanished before the encroachment of modernity, gives this a haunting feel.

[Viv JM · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked this short book for its quiet grace and gentle beauty. It reads much like a memoir although is a fictional account based on the author's own family tree. Recommended if you are looking for something slightly wistful and poignant to read.

[Kirsty · Rating 4 out of 5]

I spotted Angharad Price's The Life of Rebecca Jones when browsing the library. It is an entry upon my 2017 reading list, and when easing it out from the shelves where it was sandwiched between two rather enormous tomes, I was surprised to see how slim it was. Its 'powerful meditation on one family's passage through the 20th century', and the modern world which serves to threaten their traditional rural life in Wales, sounded absolutely lovely. I adore quiet novels which take me to a different time and place, and The Life of Rebecca Jones certainly ticks all of those boxes.

The Life of Rebecca Jones has been translated from its original Welsh by Lloyd Jones. In its native Wales, the book was heralded a 'modern classic' upon its publication, and it has been highly regarded in literary avenues since it was transcribed into English. Jan Morris describes it as 'the most fascinating and wonderful book', and Kate Saunders in The Times writes: 'The ending will make you want to turn right back to the beginning.'

From the outset, there is a definite brooding power to the narrative, and an ever-present thoughtfulness embedded into every single sentence: 'This was a reversal of creation. The perfection of an absence. / Tranquility can belong to one place, yet it ranges the world. It is tied to every passing hour, yet everlasting. It encompasses the exceptional and the commonplace. It connects interior with exterior.'

An ageing Rebecca narrates the whole; her voice is measured and incredibly human: 'I too have sought peace throughout my life. I've encountered it, many times on a more lasting silence; and I will find it before I die. My eyesight dwindles and my hearing fails. What else should I expect, at my age? But neither blindness nor deafness can perfect the quietness which is about to fall on this valley.' There is a ruminative quality to her voice, and the use of retrospective positioning only adds to this effect.

Rebecca has lived within Cwm Maesglasau for all of her life; she adores it, but the sadness which she feels at the changes within her community and landscape are prevalent. Of her home, she writes: 'Cwm Maesglasau is my world. Its boundaries are my boundaries. To leave it will be unbearably painful.' The landscape is as important a character within the novel as Rebecca herself; this is obvious from the very beginning. Price shows just how deeply person and place are connected, and the affects and effects of the two. She describes the scenes which Rebecca and her ancestors saw so vividly, bringing them to life for the reader: 'There is a crimson tunnel of foxgloves and a sparkling dome of elderflower: the same intricate design, Evan notes, of the lace on his wife's bodice. Sunshine streaming through the canopy spangles her hair with stars'.

Despite The Life of Rebecca Jones identifying as a work of fiction, photographs have been used throughout, giving it the quality of autofiction. Its words and their accompanying images are filled with traditions. It adds to the reading experience that some of the original Welsh vocabulary has been included, sometimes alongside their English translations, and otherwise understandable within their context.

Rebecca Jones is the name of the narrator, as well as of her mother and grandmother. In this manner, Price effectively tells three stories, which are similar but have discernible differences in their way. The novel is an incredibly contemplative one; it almost makes one yearn for times gone by. The structure which Price makes use of is one of fragmented memories; the only links between them are often that they have been lived by the narrator, or by members of her immediate family. The reading experience which has been created is a sensual one; in interruptions to Rebecca's voice, a stream has been personified, and its journey shown with beautiful, lyrical prose. The Life of Rebecca Jones is quietly beautiful; it demonstrates a life filled with sadnesses, but one which is still cherished nonetheless.

[Jenny Lloyd · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well. That was a fast read! But then this is nearer to the length of a novella than a novel.

This was another find in the Hay Festival bookshop. From the moment I began reading it, I began to question. Is this a novella or a biography? It reads like a biography, it even has photographs of real-life places portrayed in Rebecca's story. Yet, the narrator is Rebecca Jones. So is it an autobiography? No, because we know the author is Angharad Price, not Rebecca Jones. These niggling doubts about whether it was a work of fiction or not remained with me to the end when all was made clear. Take my word for it, this is a work of fiction however much it comes across as something else, and all the more poignant for that.

On the surface, this is a story of a family struggling to come to terms with inherited blindness. Two of Rebecca's brothers are born blind, while a third is forever grateful that he was able to see the colour of bluebells before he too goes blind. The whole family suffers differing hardships as a result. These three brothers are sent away for special education, at great expense, meaning the whole family suffers financial hardship. The oldest son, Robert, who is not blind, has to give up his own ambitions and work on the farm because there is not enough money to educate him, too. Likewise, Rebecca gives up her ambition of training to be a nurse.

The real beauty of this story, for me, lay in its quiet evocations of times gone by and ways of living which are gone forever but are fondly remembered by those of us just old enough to remember some of them. The author, Angharad Price has a deep understanding of how it feels to witness the unstoppable erosion of a country's culture and entire ways of living. And yet, while those old ways are gone forever, the beauty, majesty, and haunting tranquillity of the wild mountains and their valleys have an eternal quality that never changes. Throughout Rebecca's story, this recognition that some things truly are eternal, along with the sense of being rooted to a place through connections that go back centuries, are keenly felt.

[Felicity · Rating 5 out of 5]

Another book that left to my own devises I probably wouldn't have read, let alone bought. Sometimes you need a good friend's recommendation to get you started. Part truth part fiction, full of tragedy and love, twists and revelations, and some of the most beautifully descriptive writing I've read in a long time! With such powerful narration in the English translation, I have no doubt that in her native Welsh language the beautiful prose would have been breathtaking! A story that will stay with me for a very long time.....like all good stories do.

[gardienne_du_feu · Rating 5 out of 5]

Rebecca wird 1905 in Maesglasau in Wales geboren, einem stillen Tal, in dem man von der Landwirtschaft lebt wie in den Jahrhunderten zuvor, weit weg von der industrialisierten Welt.

In rascher Folge kommen drei weitere Kinder zur Welt, drei Jungen, zwei von ihnen von Geburt an blind. Später folgen noch mehr Geschwister, von denen eines als Baby stirbt und ein weiteres ebenfalls erblindet. Die Behinderung der Brüder entscheidet auch über die weiteren Lebenswege von Rebecca und Bob, dem zweitältesten, denn damit die drei blinden Jungen Schulbildung genießen können, werden sie auf eine kostspielige Schule in England geschickt, so dass kein Geld mehr bleibt, um Rebecca einen längeren Schulbesuch zu ermöglichen und Bob den Traum vom Medizinstudium zu erfüllen. Rebecca muss mit Näharbeiten zum Unterhalt der Familie beitragen und Bob wider Willen den Hof übernehmen.

Rebecca bleibt zeitlebens in der Gegend, in der sie aufgewachsen ist, und beobachtet im Laufe ihres langen Lebens von ferne, was in der Welt geschieht, während, fast schon ironischerweise, die Brüder ohne Sehvermögen "draußen" herumkommen und es sogar in eine Dokumentation der BBC schaffen. Doch im Gegensatz zu Bob, der zeitlebens mit seinem Schafbauerndasein hadert, macht Rebecca ihren Frieden mit ihrem Schicksal und genießt die kleinen Freuden, die das Leben in Wales ihr bietet, vor allem die Schönheiten der Natur - und die Literatur.

"The Life of Rebecca Jones" ist ein Buch der ganz leisen, zarten Töne, ein von außen betrachtet gänzlich unspektakuläres Leben ohne Reichtümer, ohne Reisen, böse Zungen würden wohl auch behaupten, ohne irgendwelche nennenswerten Erlebnisse. Doch das liegt ganz im Auge des Betrachters. Es mag für Außenstehende nicht weltbewegend sein, was Rebecca erlebt, aber gilt das nicht für ganz viele Leben? Und bewegt das persönliche Erleben nicht doch die Welt - zumindest die persönliche?

Mir hat es sehr gut gefallen, in Rebeccas Lebensrealität einzutauchen, insbesondere, weil Angharad Price, die mit diesem wunderschönen Buch ihre eigene Familiengeschichte aufgreift, diese schlichte, karge, von harter Arbeit geprägte Welt und ihre Bewohner liebevoll schildert, aber nicht romantisiert oder idealisiert. Auch die Naturszenen mochte ich sehr. Schön auch, dass das Buch mit einigen historischen Fotos illustriert ist, was den wahren Kern des Romans noch etwas greifbarer werden lässt.

Die englische Ausgabe enthält zusätzlich noch einen kleinen Sprachführer zur Aussprache walisischer Begriffe und Namen ... was mich allerdings teilweise ganz wuschig gemacht hat, weil ich trotzdem (oder gerade deshalb) ständig gerätselt habe, wie man Bwlch oder Gorfydd nun tatsächlich ausspricht. Das Buch ist übrigens auch im Original auf walisisch und gilt schon als Klassiker der walisischen Literatur, obwohl es noch keine 20 Jahre alt ist.

[Chris · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was given a long life. It has spanned the whole of the twentieth century and has been full of experience. I have felt the rough fist of misfortune and the soft palm of joy. I have spent many hours in darkness. Yet light came anew. I learned that the price of having is losing.

The life of upland farming communities has never been an easy one. In southern Snowdonia one such farmstead has survived a millennium on the flanks of Maesglase mountain between Dolgellau and Dinas Mawddwy, but one may wonder for how much longer, especially with the rapid changes wrought from the 20th century onwards into the present.

The Life of Rebecca Jones recounts the deeds and experiences of the Jones family from Tynybraich farm over the course of that century, told as by Rebecca herself. Only, this being a nonfiction novel, it's actually told by Angharad Price, Rebecca's great-niece, and so could be called a recreated autobiography or memoir. That doesn't detract from its utter authenticity though, nor from its poetic power nor its emotional impact.

For this is a novel about continuity; or rather continuance, when a lack of disconnection or interruption cannot be taken for granted. "Continuance is painful," Rebecca tells us. "It is the cross onto which we are tied: its beams pulling us this way and that. A longing for continuance lies at the heart of our nature." And yet, "we are born to die. And we spend our lives coming to terms with that paradox."

This is a beautiful heartful novel which deserves its plaudits. Among other things, in focusing on one valley -- Cwm Maesglasau -- it allows the reader to observe the regular patterns of the year as seasons come and go: the daily life at the farm, the wonders of nature, the familial customs that formed the bedrock of rural communities. But we also see that such patterns of living were not universal because the Jones family had to cope with unforeseen vicissitudes: three of Rebecca's brothers were afflicted with blindness. The repercussions of this were that all three went off at an early age to Worcester College, established for "the blind sons of gentlemen"; and in later life a BBC documentary in the 1960s was to feature their remarkable story.

The original title of this novel was O! Tyn y Gorchudd which could be roughly translated from Welsh as "Oh, pull aside the veil." The author's choice of this title was taken from a hymn written in the 18th century by one of the family's ancestors, Hugh Jones, in which the mist which often masks Maesglasau mountain symbolises the veil that can hide the sinner from the figure on the cross, and the stream that tumbles down a spectacular waterfall through the cwm represents the blood that cleanses away sins. But of course the phrase can also refer to the veil that hid the world from the brothers' sight, just as Tyn y Gorgudd could, coincidentally, be translated as The House of the Veil; after all the farmhouse was called Tynybraich, meaning the house on a spur of land.

However, in the television documentary the women of the farm were largely unseen and this, I think, is one of the veils that Angharad Price was concerned about drawing back: Rebecca herself, and her mother, her paternal grandmother, her sisters-in-law, her nieces. In rural life women were expected to play supportive but secondary roles yet they were crucial lynchpins, for without them traditional farming just wouldn't continue. Another veil that the author wanted to pull aside was the pace of change and the effect the outside world has had and continues to have on isolated communities. Already it was happening in the last century, especially following the Great War, then as communications and technology and the invasion of English culture proceeded apace the world Rebecca knew at the start of the century was unrecognisable at the end. Even the ancient farmhouse was demolished and replaced.

But not everything changed so obviously. The valley, the mountains, the stream, remain as before and the flowers, the sheep and the birds of prey are still in evidence. The prose poetry of old Hugh Jones which peppers the pages witnesses to nature's hold on Maesglasau, even if traffic on the A470 may now thunder past on the way to or from Dolgellau and beyond. And Hugh Jones' poetry is matched, even in this sensitive translation into English by novelist Lloyd Jones, by Angharad Price's priceless prose quietly telling the passing of years. The text may be at times sparse, almost matter-of-fact and shorn of any unnecessary adjectives or adverbs, but emotions, though held in check, remain raw, and the way words are used is telling.

If we imagine The Life of Rebecca Jones flowing like the Nant Maeglasau, there will be a parting of the mist in the final sentences that will reveal why it's important that the life of women like Rebecca is told. And if, as she says, the "price of having" is indeed losing, we will understand that loss can manifest in many forms and that we have to be prepared to pay the price. I feel extremely privileged to have read this deeply affecting novel, as you may have guessed; it paints a portrait of a close-knit way of life that is slowly unravelling.

[Jean Bowen]

Reading for small, family, book club. Waited weeks for it to arrive from an overseas bookseller and read it in an evening. Had Wendell Berry vibes.

[Rosie Rosie.Adkin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Another 5 star book. Beautifully written book that pays tribute to poetry, family and nature.

[Kalen · Rating 4 out of 5]

This came recommended to me by a bookseller in Wales and I'm glad I took her suggestion. (I was looking for a Welsh author/publisher that I wouldn't most likely be able to get in the States.) This book is a classic of Welsh literature and was only recently translated into English. Set not too far from where we stayed and explored, it really enhanced my trip--the descriptions of place are beautiful and real. It may seem strange but I recommend this to anyone who loves Little House on the Prairie or any stories about homesteading/ye olden days. The Life of Rebecca Jones is about a time long gone, when life was more difficult but also more simple.

[Nikki-ann · Rating 4 out of 5]

As the title may give away, The Life of Rebecca Jones tells the story of Rebecca Jones and her family’s journey through the twentieth century.

In 1905, Rebecca was born into a Welsh family in the rural community of Maesglasau valley, in Dinas Mawddwy, Wales. It has been her family’s ancestral home for a thousand years, but the changes of modern life threaten not only her family’s way of life, but their language too.

Three of Rebecca’s younger brothers are born with a genetic blindness and, while Rebecca and her brother Robert stay at home and help with the farm, it is they who are given the opportunities of education and life beyond the Welsh mountains.

Originally published in Welsh as ‘O! Tyn y Gorchudd’ (‘O! Pull aside the veil’) and now translated into English, The Life of Rebecca Jones is both a work of fiction and biography. The family’s story is told auto-biographically by the character of Rebecca Jones and it is written in such a way that you can so easily imagine the family’s life and the surrounding landscape.

I found the book particularly interesting for a number of reasons. We travelled through the Dinas Mawddwy area every summer on our way up to Criccieth for our summer holiday when I was a child and we still go up there now on odd occasions. The landscape is steep and unforgiving, yet beautiful at the same time. With a family tree full of agricultural labourers, my ancestors on both sides of the family would have lived a similar way of life to that of Rebecca’s family.

The English title is perhaps a little misleading as I found the story to be more about Rebecca’s family’s life than that of her own, but upon reaching the last pages the reader discovers a final and unexpected revelation of why that is.

The Life of Rebecca Jones is a wonderful and interesting read for anyone, especially if interested in rural Welsh life (a way of life that has vanished in all but possibly deepest, darkest, rural Wales) and family history. The story has been beautifully written and translated, and I think it is one that will stay with me for quite some time.

[Andrew · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the wonders of the precious library service is that a reader can browse the shelves and find entirely randomly a wonderful little book which I had never heard of and was beautifully written and in its 150 pages captures a so concisely the life of a farming family in a Welsh valley yet covers so much more about the meaning of life itself. The heroine Rebecca Jones was a real person who in the late nineteenth century is born to the newly wed Evan Jones and his bride rebecca, they move as family tradition dicates into the family farmhouse at Trynbraich in the Maesglasau valley which has according to the family bible been occupied by the family since 1012. The family has Rebecca and Bob two healthy children and then three children born with a genetic illness causing blindness. In the 1960's a short documentary is made about the three blind boys born on the farm and what has happened to them. The book is both a factual picture of the authors family over a century on the farm as changes to life occur from the use of shire horses to the tractor, candles to electricity, and many more, yet has a fictional element to it that makes the story more poignant. I know it is book tht will require a rereading to appreciate the prose and its subtleties as the language and descriptions of life in the mountains and streams is poetic and the description of the people extremely moving with very simple scenes that carry incredible emotional power. The translator describes the book as one that having been written in Welsh was viewed as untranslatable and consequently I am envious of that ability to gain more from this book if that is possible. I don't think it is a spoiler to quote the last few lines which were evocative of the warmth of the book as a whole "I walk through that downpour towards Llidart y Dwr, and rejoice as I approach my kin at Tynybraich. And the rain flows down my cheeks as though the stream itself were flowing over me, baptising me into another life". It is a book that deserves to be read more widely and better known.

[Gretel · Rating 4 out of 5]

I can see why The Life of Rebecca Jones is already being called a Welsh classic. The translator has done a great job of turning this book into an English edition. Angharad Price blurrs the line between real life and fiction, creating a compelling narrative. Price tells the story of the Jones family, the sacrifices they make to allow the lives of their blind children as full as possible and the adaptations a rural Welsh village have to make as lifestyles change and technology advances. The language is beautiful and the writing is heartfelt. There's a lot packed into such a slim book.

[Chelsea Hagen · Rating 4 out of 5]

A friend lent me this book it's a book with one page is in Welsh and then the next page the English. She wanted me to read this book because part of the story is about three blind boys who overcame their disability and became successful back in Cwm Wales 1912. But this was not the part I really enjoyed. I really liked the narrator Rebecca who talks about her life in Wales and I really loved how the author had an unexpected twist at the end. I see why it was Wales book of the year. I really enjoyed it.

[HelenDolly Plumb · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was a bit odd. It reads like it's a true story, with references to family and how Rebecca's brothers went on to get married and have children but with no embellishment which suggests it's real, but it claims to be fiction. I found out what it really was at the end after I had finished reading it. There are poetic sections which are enjoyable and the history is interesting but I couldn't really see the point of what the author did with Rebecca's character and felt it was a bit morbid.

[Helen and Daisy Harris · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is beautifully and simply written. It reminded me of Cider with Rosie in the way it describes a disappearing way of life. Really affecting revelation at the end - do not read the last page first.

[Mandy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not sure the mix of biography/autobiography and fiction really came together properly, but really enjoyed it nonetheless, and it is certainly very well written.