It took me several months! In January, we started reading a book for Welsh class: Tadwlad (Fatherland). I often struggle to find time to read books, and this one turned out to be written in South Welsh, which is sufficiently different from North Welsh to make this book decidedly less easy to read for someone like me. It was a bit like running through treacle.
Warning: spoiler alert.
At the very beginning of the book, in the first sentence even, the main person finds out that his father, whose funeral he is just attending, was adopted. He never had any idea.
The main character, Dylan, is working with refugees. It is specified that he used to have a much more lucrative career, but something happened, and he ended up losing his job in his wife (with whom he has a son). But he now has that other job, and a new girlfriend. I expected the thing that made him lose his initial job would be elucidated later on in the book.
Of all the refugees he works with, two are specified. One is Nabil, a Syrian medic. He is the second narrator. He comes across as alone and rudderless. And he is wary of Hadi, an Iraqi barber. The latter tends to have a small group of acolytes around him. Nabil finds them intimidating.
The book mainly trundles on with the daily life of both main characters. Not much happens. Somewhere halfway down the book, Dylan finds out that his father was born in Lübeck, after the end of the second world war. And that his grandfather was there.
It then trundles a bit more, until a big thing (in the context of this book) happens: Hadi plants suspicion in Dylan's mind about that Nabil has a wife, but never mentions her. Does he have something to hide? Dylan asks, and Nabil retreats. This was a moment of suspended disbelief for me; would anyone working with refugees really be so blunt? People flee for a reason. They might not necessarily want to talk about all the losses they have suffered before they reached the UK.
Then more trundling follows, until towards the end of the book, everything suddenly accelerates. We find out that Nabil’s wife drowned during the Channel crossing. Nabil has always felt inferior as the son of a day labourer, found out he has a knack for being charismatic and entertaining, and also, for hairdressing, and manages to establish himself with a business in Mosul. Until the religious authorities disapprove of the modern hairstyles he cuts. He strikes to deal with them, and is then seen as a traitor. He flees. And is wary of privileged people, such as middle-class folk with a good education.
Then, Hadi is attacked by racists, but manages to stagger back to the refugee centre. There, Nabil applies tourniquets and saves him. Slightly too convenient for my taste, but hey ho.
In the last chapter you suddenly hear the voice of Dylan's father. He travels to Germany, talks to someone who has gone through the archives in order to find out about his mother, and is told that there is no mention anywhere of his father. The archive lady suspects strongly that his mother was raped by a soldier of the Red Army, and was never keen to talk about that with anyone. The father then decides he is also not keen to talk about that with anyone. And then the book ends.
I suppose this is all about the secrets we keep, and that we might have particular reasons to keep them. It doesn't have to be anything malicious. I found it quite elegant that we never find out what happened to Dylan.
I suppose another theme is refugees. If you live in Western Europe in this day, having to flee might well look like something that happens to distant people. But it might be closer than you think.
As dénouements go, I found the rape story a bit obvious. I suspected that as soon as I read about the war and Lübeck, but I had the impression it is supposed to come as a surprise. Maybe I'm wrong!
So what did I think about it altogether? I must say, I am glad I read it. I would really have preferred it to have been written in North Welsh, but you can't always get what you want. I quite like that there wasn't much going on. I thought book would have been stronger without the blunt tool of one person saving another person's life after a violent attack. But if the book really would have been as pedestrian as I like them, I suspect it wouldn't have been chosen for a project such as this. This book had been recommended to Welsh classes all over the country, and in the end there was an online event in which you could ask the author questions. I wasn't even halfway by the time that happened, so I didn't participate in that. But this was bigger than our Welsh class. Maybe a bit of blood helps inclusion!
Now this book can go back to the library. And what is next for me? I am well over halfway in Jacko’s book about breathing and running. That may be the next review! And I am flying through a small book about historic Llandudno. But on my list is also the latest book by Peredur the linguist. At least that will have been written in North Welsh!
