Drawing from two medieval Welsh manuscripts with roots dating back many centuries earlier, this series of 11 stories sheds light on Celtic mythology and Arthurian romance while providing a new perspective on Great Britain itself. From enchantment and shapeshifting to the age-old dichotomies of conflict versus peacemaking and love versus betrayal, all of these tales are uniquely reinvented, creating fresh, contemporary narratives that portray the real world as much as they depict the past.
Recast from the medieval tale of Pwyll, Lord of Dyfed, a young Welsh king who dreams of escaping the burdens of his throne, this fantasy is set in a post–oil economy of the near future. This time Pwyll becomes the rebellious son of a wealthy family who sinks into the same murder and mayhem as his prototype. Embracing the simple pleasures and shorter work week available in this petroleum-free environment, Pwyl surfs whenever he wants and rides to his office on horseback down what was once a freeway. However, human nature has not changed, and what was called magic in the old story becomes clinical depression in this one—Pwyll spirals into chaos as he murders his future wife’s fiancé, loses his only son, and switches beds with the king of the underworld.
Russell Celyn Jones is a British writer and academic, born in London and brought up in Swansea. He has written novels, mostly focused on crime and issues of guilt and morality, and also teaches creative writing.
The Ninth Wave is a retelling of the First Branch of the Mabinogion, the story of Pwyll, Lord of Dyfed. The retelling is set somewhere in the future from now: a sort of post-apocalyptic world where fossil fuel has run out and everything is returning to a medieval, feudal state. For that reason, Jon Boden's 'Songs from the Floodplain' made an excellent soundtrack.
Lord Pwyll is based essentially on Prince Harry, as the afterword states. Everything's modern and rational, with no real magic in it at all -- CCTV and poison in the Starbucks frappucino. I didn't think it worked. I didn't believe in it at all: it just sped through the story, hitting vague similarities, shoehorning in the recognisable details.
The most powerful part of it is Pwyll and Pryderi surfing together at the end, and Rhiannon's grief after Pryderi's disappearance and the way she and Pwyll try to keep some hope alive, together. There are powerful moments, some good descriptions, but overall, it felt very thin to me.
This wasn’t a bad retelling of the first branch, by any means. It just wasn’t particularly inspiring. It felt at times like it was just check boxing the details of the original story. Pwyll wasn’t a particularly interesting character, though Rhiannon was somewhat. I don’t really have much more to say than that. It didn’t try to be anything more than a vaguely dystopian setting.
A good example of what happens when someone tries to rationalise an inherently irrational story. The magic is lost. The Ninth Wave feels far too mechanical; each event in the original story turns up transformed in the retelling. As a reading of the original it offers little by way of insight, and as a story in its own right it is yet one more post- apocalyptic story with a strained plot.
didn't really care for this interpretation. bummer as Pwyll's story is my favorite from the mabinogion. felt like this was just checking boxes, and when interpretations were added they made the story more confusing. also did not care for the characters at any point in the story, they felt one dimensionally and I frequently felt that nobody in the story was worthy of reading about
The Mabinogion: eleven tales handed down through the generations in Wales at the very heart of Welsh literature.
They were translated into English by Lady Charlotte Guest in the mid 19th century. A Victorian copy is still in the shelves in my library, and it is utterly beautiful. A recent, highly praised translation by Sioned Davies sits on my shelves. It looked wonderful, and yet it just sat there. Until another book arrived and inspired me.
This book: the Ninth Wave by Russell Celyn Jones. The first is a series commissioned by Seren Books, reinventing the eleven stories of The Mabinogion to be heard more clearly in this age.
It pulls you into an extraordinary world. Religious wars have been raging and oil supplies have been exhausted. The medieval has returned, but the landscape is still modern. Imagine riding your horse along a road littered with discarded appliances to drink coffee at Starbucks!
The wildness of nature and the desolation of the post-industrial society are perfectly juxtaposed, and utterly alive.
Into this world rides Phywll, Welsh lord and landowner, home from war and heading full tilt into the future. The energy was palpable and I flew through the pages, as Phywll fell foul of neighbouring lord, Arawen; became entangled with Arawen’s wife Alma; and then breaks away when he meets Alma’s wilder sister, Rhiannon.
There was a problem: Rhiannon had a powerful fiance. But she had a solution too, a wonderful plan for Phywll to execute. The story moved into a new phase, the energy was still there, but there was dark humour too and a lovely twist. I was still completely engaged, but I turned the pages more slowly, reacted more emotionally.
Phywll and Rhiannon married and had a son. Happy ever after? Not quite. When their son was four he disappeared.
And this is when The Ninth Wave really sings. When it tells of he distress of both parents, the tension between husband and wife, and, eventually, the difficulties that arise when the child returns, on the verge of manhood with no memory of his mother and father. The emotional and psychological insight is acute. And as the story draws to a close with father and son struggling to understand each other it is quite impossible to not be moved.
The whole story arc very cleverly echoes the first branch of the Mabinogion.
The insight into the characters, their emotions, their motivations brings it to life in a way that a traditional telling never could, and the vivid, and utterly plausible, setting allows you to believe utterly.
There is an exegetical function operating in this retelling of the first branch of the Mabinogion and that works well. Reading it sent me back to the original to look for things I'd missed, and that's a very fine thing for a celebration of a literary great. What works less well in this work is that the writer did not use the scope he had for an imaginative re-casting of the story. There's less 'play' than there might have been and you get a sense that every box has been well-and-truly ticked. However, the story is told with feeling and is generally well written; there's a lot to enjoy in this book.
My first Mabingion was White Ravens which was excellent so the bar was set quite high for me for the further stories. I didn't think this one quite as strong but it was still thought-provoking and easy to get lost in for a short period of time (it's a very short book). I'm looking forward to reading more of them