Brodyr a Chwiorydd

Cyfrol o straeon byrion, BRODYR A CHWIORYDD (Y Lolfa, 2013) £8-95

A volume of short stories, BROTHERS AND SISTERS (Y Lolfa, 2013) £8-95

BROLIANT

Mae anifail yn llechu ym mhawb....

'Peth rhyfedd yw perthynas waed, boed yn chwaer neu'n frawd. Darllenais rhywle taw, i'r mwyafrif o bobol, dyma fyddai'r berthynas hiraf yn eu bywydau.'

Bydd Mali'n treulio'r Nadolig gyda'i chwaer eleni. Mae ganddi rhywbeth i'w ddweud ond a fydd Megan am ei glywed?

Mae'r Reesiaid yn dod ynghyd i drafod prynu'r hen gartre teuluol. Mae'n dod ag atgofion yn ôl am hen gêm ar iard yr ysgol y mae ei heffaith i'w theimlo hyd heddiw...

Pa ddigwyddiad sy'n dod â'r efeilliaid Owen a Hywel ynghyd ac a ydyn nhw wir yn nabod ei gilydd erbyn hyn?

Casgliad o straeon cyfoes sy'n taflu'r darllenydd oddi ar ei echel gyfforddus.

'Pleser o'r mwyaf oedd dyfarnu'r wobr i awdur dawnus iawn gyda'r gallu i adrodd stori'n raenus ac mewn ffordd gyffrous.' (Emyr Llywelyn, un o feirniaid Cystadleuaeth Stori Fer Cymdeithas Allen Raine 2011)

BLURB

There's an animal lurking in all of us...

'A sibling relationship is a strange thing, be it sister or brother. I read somewhere that for the majority of people it will be the longest relationship in their lives.'

Mali will be spending Christmas with her sister this year. She's got something to tell her, but will Megan want to hear it?

The Reeses have got together to discuss the possibility of buying their old family home. It stirs memories of an old school-yard game whose effect is still felt to this very day...

Which incident brings the twins Owen and Hywel together again and do they truly know each other by now?

A collection of short stories that disconcertingly throws the reader off balance.

'It was a pleasure to award the prize to a very talented author with the ability to tell a story in such an exciting and accomplished way.' (Emyr Llywelyn, one of the adjudicators for the Allen Raine Society Short Story Competition 2011)

"Mae safon y ddwy stori olaf ynddo'i hunain werth pris y llyfr. Ardderchog." (Catrin Beard, RHAGLEN DEWI LLWYD Radio Cymru)

"The standard of the final two stories on their own justify the price of the book. Excellent.' (Catrin Beard, RHAGLEN DEWI LLWYD Radio Cymru)

ADOLYGIAD (Gwyn Griffiths, Y CYMRO, o wefan gwales.com)

'OCHR DYWYLL BYWYD MEWN CASGLIAD O STRAEON'

Petai ond ar sail ei nofel ryfeddol X a gyhoeddwyd yn 2002, mae Geraint Lewis yn haeddu'i ystyried ymysg ein hawduron mwyaf difyr ac yn sicr y mwyaf dyfeisgar a mentrus. Ochr dywyll pobl sy'n cael ei harchwilio yn Brodyr a Chwiorydd, sef casgliad o straeon byrion.

Mae ganddo ryw chwilen ynglyn â themau beiolegol - cofiwn eto am ei gyfrol straeon byrion Y Malwod. Mwydod sy'n brigo i'r wyneb - ddwywaith - yn y gyfrol hon. Da gweld rhywun yn gwneud hynny yn Gymraeg. Ond y thema sy'n tynnu'r storiau hyn at ei gilydd yw'r ochr dywyll yma, yr anifail, y bwystfil ym mhob yr un ohonom.

Yr ymateb sydyn, yr eiliad o wallgofrwydd brawychus sy'n dinistrio person neu berthynas. Y digwyddiadau o encilion pell y cof sy'n bwrw'u cysgodion ymhell i'r dyfodol. Dyna welir yn stori deitl y gyfrol Brodyr a Chwiorydd - creulondeb plentyn at blentyn nas anghofir, yr atgofion sy'n mudlosgi am ddegawdau cyn treiddio i'r wyneb wrth i bawb ymgynnull. Rhywbeth sy'n waeth am iddynt for ar wahân, heb gyd-fyw o fewn yr un gymdeithas na chael amser i faddau a chael maddeuant, heb gyfle iddynt gyfaddawdu a gwella'r briw.

Mae'n gyfrol, yn ôl y broliant, sy'n bwrw'r darllenydd oddi ar ei echel gyffyrddus. Mae'n mynd yn ddyfnach na hynny.

Dyma gyfrol anghysurus sy'n corddi hen ddigwyddiadau yng ngorffennol darllenydd a'r sylweddoliad mai dyna, efallai, fuasai ei dynged yntau oni bai am ryw ffawd ataliol, rasol.

Mae'r ymdriniaeth yn ddieithriad dreiddgar, fel yn y stori 'Y Teulu Arall', wrth i'r ddynes a fabwysiadwyd fynd ar drywydd ei rhieni biolegol.

Ceir darganfyddiadau diddorol, ond yn bennaf ceir siomiant, ac mae'r ochr ddu, annisgwyl, sy'n llechu ymhob un o'r storiau yn eich taro fel gordd. Ond cawn hefyd ambell jôc dda, fel honno am y ferch saith oed yn dweud y drefn wrth ei mam am beidio dweud wrthi fod Yncl Ieuan yn dod am 'sleepover'!

Hoffais yn arbennig 'Talu Trwy'r Trwyn', lle mae'r prifathro dawnus ac ardderchog yn ymateb yn reddfol i rywun sy'n ymyrryd â'i wraig, gyda chanlyniadau difrifol. Y disgyblion a gynlluniodd y cyfan, a'r cwbl yn gredadwy iawn. Sgwn i a yw anifeiliaid wir, mor ddichellgar atgas a chynllwyngar â'r hil ddynol?

Prin iawn yw llyfrau Cymraeg a gyhoeddwyd yn ystod y blynyddoedd diwethaf sy'n ymdrin ag agweddau didostur a seicolegol dywyll ein cymdeithas, heblaw am Martha, Jac a Sianco. Yn ddiddorol, sylwaf mai Geraint Lewis bortreadodd y cymeriad Sianco yn yr addasiad teledu.

O dro i dro teimlaf reidrwydd cryf i ail-ddarllen llyfr. Mae Brodyr a Chwiorydd yn sicr yn syrthio i'r categori hwnnw.

REVIEW (Gwyn Griffiths, Y CYMRO, from the gwales.com website)

'THE DARK SIDE OF LIFE IN SHORT STORY COLLECTION'

If it was only on the basis of his astonishing novel X, published in 2002, Geraint Lewis deserves to be considered among our most interesting authors and definitely the most inventive and enterprising.

It's the darker side of people that is highlighted in 'Brodyr a Chwiorydd' (Brothers and Sisters), a collection of short stories.

He has some kind of fascination with biological themes - we recall his volume of short stories 'Y Malwod' (The Snails). It's worms that rise to the surface - twice -in this volume.

It's good to see someone doing this in the Welsh language. But the theme which brings these stories together is this dark side, the animal, the monster in each one of us.

The hasty reaction, the moment of frightening madness which destroys a person or relationship. The incidents in the furthest recesses of our memories that throw disturbing shadows far into the future. This is what we see in the title story 'Brodyr a Chwiorydd' (Brothers and Sisters) - a cruelty by a child towards another child which hasn't been forgotten, the memories that smoulder for decades before penetrating the surface as they all assemble. Something which is worse because they've been separated, having not lived within the same community or had time to forgive or receive forgiveness, having not had the opportunity to reconcile and heal the wound.

The volume, according to the blurb, disconcertingly throws the reader off balance. It goes much deeper than that.

This is an uncomfortable book which stirs old incidents in the reader's mind, bringing him to realize, perhaps, that would be his fate too if it wasn't for some saving grace, a lucky twist of fortune.

The treatment, without exception, is penetrating, as in the story 'Y Teulu Arall' (The Other Family), with the woman who was adopted as a baby going in search of her biological parents.

We see some interesting discoveries, but mainly there is disappointment, and this dark, unexpected element, that lurks in each of the stories, hits you like a sledgehammer. But we also have the occasional good joke, like the one when the seven year old girl tells her mother off for not informing her that Uncle Ieuan was having a 'sleepover'!

I particularly liked 'Talu Trwy'r Trwyn' (Paying Through The Nose), where we see a talented, excellent headmaster reacting instinctively to someone who interferes with his wife, with serious consequences. It was the pupils that created it all, with everything being very plausible. I wonder if animals are truly so vengeful and cruelly manipulative as the human race?

Very few recent books in Welsh deal with the remorseless attitudes and psychological darkness of our society, apart from 'Martha, Jac a Sianco.' Interestingly I note that Geraint Lewis portrayed the character Sianco in the television adaptation.

Now and again I feel a strong urge to re-read a book. 'Brodyr a Chwiorydd' certainly falls into that category.

ADOLYGIAD (Annes Glynn, TALIESIN, Gwanwyn 2014)

O dan wyneb tiroedd a chorsydd anial Ceredigion ac yn nyfnder ambell lyn mwy anghysbell na'i gilydd yn yr ardal mae 'na awgrym o hen dywyllwch yn llechu, rhyw gyntefigrwydd sylfaenol sy'n crychu'r mymryn lleiaf ar wyneb y dwr, yn aflonyddu'r brwyn. Rhyw ias er gwaethaf yr haul, a goleuni hwnnw'n fygythiad didostur yn aml yn hytach na chysur.

Os mai yn gymharol ddiweddar y sylweddolodd awduron a chyfarwyddwyr drama teledu Cymru hynny, bu'r awdur Geraint Lewis yn cloddio'r wythien ffrwythlon hon ers peth amser yn ei gyfrolau, yn straeon byrion ac yn nofelau. Ac yn ei gyfrol gyntaf o straeon byrion ers dros chwarter canrif, dyfnderoedd tywyll cymeriadau pobl, y gwyll sy'n llechu'n haenau dan wyneb y golau cyhoeddus, yw'r thema sy'n eu huno.

Ac yntau'n hanu'n wreiddiol o Dregaron mae'n ymddangos fod Geraint Lewis yntau'n ymwybodol o ddeuoliaeth ddiddorol ei sir enedigol. Y Malwod a straeon eraill oedd teitl ei gyfrol gyntaf o straeon a gyhoeddwyd yn 1987 ac yn ôl y broliant, cymeriadau 'brith' sy'n eu nodweddu a chyfeirir at 'yr hanner gwallgofrwydd sy'n ffrwtian dan wyneb eu normalrwydd tybiedig.' Mewn adolygiad a ysgrifennwyd toc ar ôl ei chyhoeddi, fel hyn y disgrifia'r Athro M. Wynn Thomas y gyfrol: '...storiau cynnil sy'n aflonyddu ar y dychymyg.'

Ar ôl cyhoeddi tair nofel yn y cyfamser, dychwelodd Lewis at ei wreiddiau felly mewn mwy nag un ystyr. Ac eto ni fu Tre-gors (a seiliwyd yn o agos ar ei bentref genedigol yn ôl pob golwg) ymhell er iddo grwydro dro oddi wrth y straeon byrion a phori ym maes y nofel. Tre-gors yw cefndir ei nofel Haf o Hyd a gyhoeddwyd yn 2009 ac sy'n cynnwys islais tywyll pendant. Mae'n ymddangos eto yn ei nofel gynharach Daw Eto Haul (2003) er mai Caerdydd yw prif leoliad honno. O'r deg stori yn ei gyfrol ddiweddaraf o straeon byrion, Brodyr a Chwiorydd, diddorol yw sylwi mai Tre-gors yw cefndir stori gyntaf y gyfrol hon hefyd, yr un sy'n benthyg ei theitl i'r gyfrol, ac sy'n un o straeon mwyaf llwyddiannus y casgliad. Pan ddychwel Henry Rees adref o America ar gyfer angladd a chyfarfod â'i frodyr a'i chwiorydd niferus am y tro cyntaf ers rhai blynyddoedd, buan y mae chwarae'n troi'n annifyr o chwerw - yn llythrennol felly.

Yr hyn sy'n gosod y stori hon ymhlith y goreuon yn y casgliad yw'r modd y cyfosodir y 'normal' a'r tywyll, cyntefig, a'r ambell fflach o hiwmor eironig a ddaw i'r golwg o bryd i'w gilydd - mae'r awdur, wrth gwrs, yn sgriptiwr a dramodydd sydd hefyd yn gyfarwydd ag ysgrifennu comedi. Saerniwyd y stori hon yn fwy gofalus nag ambell un o'r rhai eraill hefyd.

Mae elfennau telynegol yn y stori sydd eto'n cyferbynnu'n hyfryd â thywyllwch garw rhannau eraill ohoni. 'Rhoddodd (Henry) ei freichiau o amgylch ei chwaer a theimlo rhywbeth yn diffodd, os taw dyna mae breuddwydion yn ei wneud.' Ac ymhellach: '...chwythodd plu bach o baent yn y gwynt fel tristwch.'

Er nad yw mor amlwg dywyll efallai â nifer o'r straeon eraill, mae 'Amser Maith Yn Ol', a ennillodd i'r awdur wobr Stori Fer Cymdeithas Allen Raine yn 2011, hefyd yn cyffwrdd â'r thema o bwysigrwydd cynnal breuddwydion yn hytrach nag wynebu'r gwir diaddurn bob tro. Saerniwyd hon eto'n ofalus wrth ddarlunio'r tyndra credadwy rhwng dwy chwaer ganol oed hwyr.

O'r Bala i Lanelli, o Abercymmer i Abertawe a Chaerdydd mae yn y straeon cyfoes hyn amrywiaeth ddiddorol o gymeriadau; o brifathro allanol barchus sy'n 'gweld pethau'n goch, fel tarw' ar adegau direol, i'r gyfarwyddwraig theatr sy'n cuddio Glock yn ei bag llaw. Ond nid yw'r sefyllfaoedd yn cael eu datblygu i'w potensial llawn bob tro. Mae sawl paragraff agoriadol trawiadol, er enghraifft: 'Ar ôl cael sawl rhybudd am y dwgyd, dachreues neud galwade ffôn 999 ffug' ('Rhaffu Celwyddau'), 'Byddai Llinos yn aml yn meddwl am ymennydd ei mam yn nhermau bwyd' ('Afal Pwdr'). Ond, yn rhy aml, daw mwy nag un stori i ben â pharagraff di-fflach, 'diniwed' rywsut, a'r awdur fel pe bai'n ymdrechu i fod yn or-gynnil nes peri i'r darllenydd yma, beth bynnag, deimlo'n siomedig na ddatblygwyd y stori ryw gam neu ddau ymhellach, neu ei dirwyn i gyfeiriad ychydig yn fwy annisgwyl.

Dro arall, roedd y straeon yn tin-droi; yswn am arddull dynnach. Er hynny, mae'r arddull ymgomiol, lac, sy'n fwy addas i nofel ar adegau, yn golygu fod ymddygiad annisgwyl, 'tywyll' cymeriad gymaint â hynny'n fwy effeithiol ac yn fwy o sioc ar adegau. Yn yr un modd, mae ambell baragraff o hiwmor dead-pan y canlynol yn creu cyferbyniad effeithiol hefyd: 'Roedd Dad...wedi gadael ni flwyddyn ynghynt. Trawiad wrth wylio The X Factor a Mam yn beio'i hun...am orfodi ail ddysglaid o bwdin bara a chwstard arno ynghanol Strictly Come Dancing'. ('Y Teulu Arall')

Gallai cynhyrchwyr Y Gwyll ddysgu ambell wers yn y fan hon; nid oes rhaid cynnal rhyw lefel o ddwyster un cywair gydol yr adeg er mwy creu arswyd effeithiol.

I gloi, gair byr am yr is-bennawd i'r casgliad a geir ar glawr y gyfrol: 'Mae anifail yn llechu ym mhawb'. Tra bod cael thema i uno casgliad o straeon i'w groesawu - ac yn erfyn marchnata effeithiol mae'n siwr - tybed a oes perygl i hynny droi'n faen melin hefyd? Er bod y disgrifiad hwn yn gweddu i'r dim i sawl stori, mewn achosion eraill allwn i ddim llai na theimlo ei fod yn cael ei lusgo i mewn i'r dweud, a'r ddelwedd yn cael ei gorweithio.

Wedi dweud hynny dyma gasgliad o straeon sy'n gweddu i'r dim i'w darllen ar nosweithiau hirion o flaen tanllwyth o dân ac awgrym o siffrwd anesboniadwy i'w glywed yng nghorneli tywyllaf y cysgodion...

REVIEW (Annes Glynn, TALIESIN, Spring 2014)

Under the surface of the bare marshes and lands of the distant wilderness of Ceredigion and in the depths of a few remote lakes in the area there's a sense of an old darkness lurking, a certain fundamental primitiveness which ripples ever so slightly on the water's surface, and disturbs the rushes. A chill, in spite of the sun, and this light is often a relentless threat rather than a solace.

If it was comparatively recently that television writers and directors realized this then it should be pointed out that the author Geraint Lewis has been mining this particularly fruitful vein for quite a while in his books, in short stories and novels. And in his first volume of short stories for over a quarter of a century, it's the darkest depths of people's characters, the dark hinterland that lurks in layers under the light of the public face, that is the theme which unites them.

Originally from Tregaron it appears that Geraint Lewis is also aware of the interesting duality of the county of his birth. Y Malwod a straeon eraill (The Snails and other stories) was the title of his first volume of short stories, published in 1987, and according to the blurb, 'variegated' characters abound in it, also referring to 'the half madness which simmers under the surface of our reputed normality.' In a review that was written soon after its its publication, this is how Professor M. Wynn Thomas described the volume: '...concise stories that disconcert the imagination.'

Having published three novels in the meantime, Lewis has returned to his roots therefore in more than one sense. And yet Tre-gors (based fairly closely on the village where he was brought up, one can imagine) has never been far away even when he veered away from the short story into the world of the novel. Tre-gors is the backdrop to his novel Haf o Hyd (Summer Still) published in 2009 which definitely contains a dark underbelly. It appears again in his earlier novel Daw Eto Haul (2003) (The Sun Will Rise Again) though Cardiff is that book's main location. Of the ten stories in his latest volume of short stories, Brodyr a Chwiorydd (Brothers and Sisters), it's interesting to note that Tre-gors is the backdrop to the first story in this book too, the one that lends its title to the volume, and which is one of the most successful stories in the collection. When Henry Rees returns from America and attends a funeral and meets up with his numerous brothers and sisters for the first time in a while, the joshing and playing quite literally gets out of hand.

What makes this story one of the best in the collection is the way the 'normal' is juxtaposed with the dark, the primitive, with the occasional flash of ironic humour also rising to the fore - the author is, of course, a script writer and playwright, accustomed to writing comedy. This story is also structured more carefully than some of the others too. The story has some lyrical elements that contrast beautifully with the harsh darkness in other parts of it. '(Henry) put his arms around his sister and felt something extinguish, if that's what dreams do.' And again: '...some little flakes of paint blew in the wind like sadness.'

Although not as dark, perhaps, as some of the other stories, 'Amser Maith Yn Ol' (A Long Time Ago), which won the Allen Raine Society Short Story Competition in 2011, also touches upon the theme of the importance of sustaining dreams rather than facing up to the unadorned truth every time. This story once again is carefully constructed, credibly portraying the tension between two sisters in late middle age.

From Bala to Llanelli, from Abercymmer to Swansea and Cardiff we have in these contemporary stories an interesting variety of characters; from the outwardly respectable headmaster who occasionally 'sees things in red, like a bull' when under pressure, to the theatre director who keeps a Glock hidden in her handbag. But the situations aren't always quite developed to their full potential every time. There are several striking opening paragraphs, for example: 'After having several warnings for the stealing, I started making false 999 phone calls' ('Rhaffu Celwyddau' - 'String of Lies'), 'Llinos would often think of her mother's brain in terms of food' ('Afal Pwdr' - 'Rotten Apple'). However, too often, more than one story ends with an uninspired paragraph, 'innocent' somehow, as if the author is trying to be too subtle, that led this reader at least to feel disappointed that the story hadn't been developed a further step or two, or ended slightly more surprisingly.

At other times some of the stories needed a tighter style. Having said that, the conversational, loose format, occasionally more appropriate to the novel, means that the surprisingly 'dark' behaviour of a character works more effectively and is sometimes more of a shock. In the same way, the occasional paragraph of deadpan humour, like the following, works as an effective contrast too: 'Dad...had left us the previous year. A heart attack whilst watching The X Factor and Mam blaming herself...for forcing a second bowl of bread and butter pudding and custard on him in the middle of Strictly Come Dancing'. ('Y Teulu Arall' - 'The Other Family')

The Producers of 'Hinterland' could learn a lesson here; one doesn't have to sustain the same level of seriousness in the same tone all the time to create an effective thriller.

Finally, a brief word regarding the byline to the collection, seen on the front cover: 'There's an animal lurking in all of us'. While an unifying theme for a collection of short stories is to be welcomed - and an effective marketing tool, no doubt - I wonder whether there's a danger of it becoming a millstone too? Even though this description is highly appropriate for several of the stories, in others I sometimes felt that it was being dragged into the narrative, with the image being overused.

Having said that this is a collection of stories that is perfect to be read on those long nights in front of a large fire with the slightest hint of an inexplicable rustle to be heard in the darkest corners of the shadows...

AUTHOR’S NOTES (Western Mail 14/12/2013)

What’s so great about the short story? Geraint Lewis praises the ‘smaller sibling’ often left struggling on the sidelines

Though my brother would no doubt dispute it I felt as I grew up that I was often side-lined to the fringes. Over the years it’s been a similar relationship between the novel and the short story, the shorter, supposedly less substantial sibling, waving from the corner of a crowded room, vying for attention.

I first fell in love with the form in my teens, reading a dilapidated copy of Dylan Thomas’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog, that I bought in a second-hand bookshop in Aberystwyth. I also recall, even now, the excitement of getting Geraint Goodwin’s The White Farm and other stories out from the library up the road from my house in Tregaron. The thrill was partially induced by the tangible evidence in my hand that there was a proper writer, published and everything, called Geraint. A decade later I was fortunate enough to add my own name to the list of published Geraints, with my first book, Y Malwod (The Snails), a volume of short stories, naturally.

During the summer of 2011 the Welsh-language weekly magazine Golwg ran an article wondering why there were apparently so few short stories recently published in Welsh. The academic Peredur Lynch and the writer Jon Gower, both fans of the form, were notable contributors. Around the same time the Allen Raine Society advertised their annual short story competition. As it happens I’d been toying with an idea for a story for a few months. This was the catalyst I needed to put something down in black and white.

As I’d never competed in any writing competition before my hopes weren’t particularly high. I was just grateful for the Allen Raine Society that they’d helped me put pen to paper. To my delight the story, about two sisters spending Christmas Day together, won. One of the judges, Emyr Llywelyn, was particularly encouraging, wondering if I had any other stories on the go. I did. It was a story about twins, another sibling story. I began to wonder about the possibility of writing another book of short stories, under the general theme of siblings. The more I delved into it the greater the potential seemed to be. In our age of the extended family, with half-sisters, stepbrothers, adopted siblings, foster sisters, the possibilities seemed endless. Two years later, Brodyr a Chwiorydd (Brothers and Sisters) was published.

Perhaps because of my background as a dramatist my starting point is always the characters. I’d like to think there’s the occasional unexpected twist here and there in some of the stories too, hopefully un-nerving the reader. But my main interest is in the interaction between the various siblings. People are so interesting, their virtues as well as their vices. I read recently that for the majority of people your relationship with your sibling, brother or sister, will be the longest relationship in your life. If the response I’ve had to the book so far is anything to go by, then it can often be a tempestuous one too, with readers confirming the complexity of this emotional connection.

The great thing about the short story form is how one can zoom in on a critical point in a character’s life. Sometimes it’s regret at something that wasn’t said or a particular path that wasn’t chosen, gleaning some painful secret or some responsibility that was evaded. It’s a rich terrain to mine, the choices people make in their lives, for better or for worse, and the conciseness of the form, a snapshot as it were, lends itself so well to the story telling.

It is this necessary conciseness that differentiates the short story from the novel. The more unwieldy and bigger sibling strides up to the bar, calling out the drinks order, loudly laughing, wiping his nose, whilst the smaller one, still in the corner, struggles to decide which drink he wants, the exact right drink of course. After all, words are like drinks, there are so many of them to savour.

Not that I’ve got anything against novels. I love novels. I’ve been lucky enough to have had three published. It’s just that they sometimes block out the light of the smaller sibling. Oh, and by the way, I love my brother too.

Brodyr a Chwiorydd is published by Y Lolfa, £8.95