This is, I’d suggest, a memoir-autobiography in the form of a novel and features three main characters: the chief protagonist, Matthew ‘Will’ Price; his father, Harry Price who is a signalman in Glynmawr, a small village in south Wales not far from the border with England, and Morgan Rosser, Harry’s colleague who, after the General Strike of 1926, becomes a dealer which seems to mean someone who runs a successful and, relative to those around him, lucrative business.
Matthew is the boy who makes it out of his working class origins into university and academic life, and long passages of the novel are devoted to examining his sense of being of two worlds and not feeling ‘settled’ in either of them. Indeed, it seemed to me that ‘settle’, ‘settled’, and ‘settlement’ were the text’s key words: what does it mean to be settled? Settled in oneself? settled in a particular place? both? or content to be content with what one has or what one has achieved while acknowledging that part of you itches for something else, something more, something different? The novel has a slightly different take on each of its three main characters: Morgan, who is a loquacious thinker, is the great proponent of being settled and, though restless, has achieved what he set out to achieve; Harry, who refuses to give up his signaller’s job when Morgan offers him the chance for a major role in the dealership, is happy with the regularity of his work and the opportunity it affords him to run a small market garden and to associate helpfully with other members of the small Glynmawr community; and Matthew, the one who left the valley to pursue education, by the end of the novel, finds himself feeling more settled in his suburban middle class life in England, recognising that, as deeply and as foundationally fond as he is of his Welshness, his life is elsewhere now, and that Glynmawr accepts, respects, and even admires, that, not, as he fears, holding it against him that he left the valley.
I did not find this an easy novel to enjoy, but I liked parts of it very much. I found moments of longueur in passages in which the writer examines the landscape in which the novel is set – a rural part of South Wales dominated by its ‘Holy Mountain’: these could be both dull in the way, to me, Edward Thomas and W.H. Hudson can be, and at other times lively, usually when I was conscious of there being a figure in the landscape responding to it. There is also a lot of what I would loosely call philosophising, especially by Morgan Rosser whom I would describe as a bit of a self-obsessing, navel-gazing windbag at his least amenable, but a good friend when he is able to feel, in the novel’s word, ‘settled’, at ease with himself and the world. In the later part of the novel, Matthew and he engage in a couple of conversations with ‘settlement’ at their heart, passages I found tedious if only because they did not communicate clearly with me. If I were to grouse, I might say I found Williams' writing rather ploddingly or methodically earnest in places.
Having said that, much of Williams’ dialogue was one of the strengths of the novel as were his domestic interiors. I felt he had a cinematographer’s sensitivities combined with those of a scriptwriter with a good ear. His cast of characters from Glynmawr’s small community is also one he handles well: each person is neatly depicted: the solid, reliable railwaymen; the hardy, impoverished hill farmers; the local (English) ex-army landowner who becomes, under Morgan’s self-interested encouragement, a fruit grower; Pugh, the clergyman, who tutors and advises Matthew; Matthew’s mother, Ellen, who, like all the women, make the most of their lives keeping home, husband, family and community together; and, at the edges of it all, Matthew’s own family in London where he works as an academic, decently comfortably suburban and English.
Perhaps most of all, Williams achieves a piece of revealing social documentary in the same way as the better known novels ‘Saturday Night and Sunday Morning’, ‘A Kind of Loving’, ‘Room at the Top’ and ‘This Sporting Life’ do. What makes his different, however, is its rural, Welsh setting as distinct from the industrial English cityscapes of the others. From that point of view alone, and its greater historical sweep and a lengthy, interesting account of a small group of unionised railwaymen responding in their different ways to the General Strike, Williams achieves something unexpected and, perhaps, unique in the – may I call it? - working class literature of the 1950s and 1960s.