New Welsh Reader 132: Summer 2023

By Yvonne Reddick and Vanessa Winship

Female-led European literature with a focus on place in nonfiction, narrative voice in fiction and diversity in poetry. Plus world-class photographs by Vanessa Winship and MR Thomas. This edition presents a feature-length profile of the late travel writer and author Jan Morris.

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Welsh Review
• Release date: May 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9781913830212

Book preview

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Contents

IMPRINT

ICE

ALL THE WORLD IN A WELSH HAYLOFT

Dawn Chorus, Vesper Flights

AN EDEN

THE SUMMER OF NADIA COMĂNECI

OUTWARD BOUND

ARROWS

DAYS OF 1998

I AM UNLEARNING

LET’S PRETEND

BOULEVARD SAINT-LAURENT

WORD WOUND

VERY CLEAR AND DETAILED IN THE ODD BRILLIANT LIGHT

IMPRINT

New Welsh Reader

New Welsh Review Ltd

PO Box 170, Aberystwyth, SY23 1WZ

Telephone: [phone]

www.newwelshreview.com

Editor: Gwen Davies

[e-mail]

Administration & Finance Officer: Bronwen Williams

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Marketing & Publicity Officer: Edie Franklin

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Management Board: Ali Anwar, Gwen Davies (Director), Andrew Green (Director, Chair), Ruth Killick, David Michael (Treasurer), Matthew Francis, Emily Blewitt (Poetry Subs Editor, Vice-Chair)

Aberystwyth University Partnership: TK Quentin

Sponsor of the New Welsh Writing Awards: RS Powell

Design: Ingleby Davies Design

Host: Aberystwyth University

Main images: Front cover photograph of Jan Morris © MR Thomas; contents page, front inside cover & back cover photographs: Vanessa Winship (from Snow, Deadbeat Club, 2022).

With special thanks to Creative Wales (a Welsh Government initiative) for a Cost-of-Living Emergency Fund.

© The New Welsh Review Ltd and the authors

ISBN: 9781913830212

ISSN: 09542116

Views expressed in NWR are the authors’ own and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of either editor or board.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, recorded or otherwise, without the permission of the publisher, the New Welsh Review Ltd.

The New Welsh Review Ltd publishes with the financial support of the Books Council of Wales, and is hosted by Aberystwyth University’s Department of English & Creative Writing. The New Welsh Review Ltd was established in 1988 by Academi (now Literature Wales) and the Association for Welsh Writing in English. New Welsh Reader is New Welsh Review’s print (and digital) magazine for creative work. We also publish monthly roundups of online content, including reviews, comment and poetry, and at least one book annually on the New Welsh Rarebyte imprint, run a writing competition (New Welsh Writing Awards), and improve diversity in the UK publishing industry by hosting student work placements.

Mae croeso ichi ohebu â’r golygydd yn Gymraeg

Patrons: Belinda Humfrey, Owen Sheers

Patrons: Belinda Humfrey, Owen Sheers

ICE

STORY BY JEM POSTER

PHOTOGRAPHS BY VANESSA WINSHIP

As I drive out of town the wind is rising, whipping the powdery snow from the roadside shrubs and sending it whirling across the blacktop. I know what I’m looking for but I see the sign a moment too late. The surface is treacherous. I let the car slow to walking pace before I brake.

I reverse carefully and draw up level with the turning, a rutted track shadowed by conifers. The signboard hangs on two chains from a crude wooden frame. Brody, sculptor – just that, the letters bleached and peeling. I hear the chains creak as the wind catches the board.

The frozen grasses brush the underbody as I drive up the track. A flicker of anxiety – what if I ground the car out here, if I can’t get it back to the road? – and then the track veers left and opens out on to a paved yard.

On the far side of the yard a long, low building. Rough board walls, sheet metal roof, the remains of a porch framing the door. Nailed to the boards, in the space between two of the windows, a tattered Confederate flag; above it a carved wooden eagle with its tail fanned and its wings outspread. A battered pickup is parked with its nose to the wall. I pull in alongside it, grab my camera bag and get out.

No sound but the wind. The snow around the doorway unprinted. If it wasn’t for the smoke pluming from the stovepipe I’d think the place was deserted. I look out beyond the building to the piled clouds edged with sunlight and feel the old thrill – the vertiginous sense of possibility as I step away from my own life and close in on someone else’s.

The door opens. I can just make out the man’s bulk in the shadows. For a moment he hangs back, looking out, and then he steps forward to the threshold.

He’s perfect. I visualise his gaunt, creased face lit from the side – natural light if I can set things up before it fades. He’ll be hunched over his work, his lank hair falling forward, his hands guiding the tool. It’s all there in my mind’s eye, down to the thin flake of wood curling off the blade.

‘Mr Brody?’

‘Brody. Just Brody. What do you want?’

‘I’m Anna. Anna Markham. I’m a photographer. I wonder if you’d be willing to let me sit in on your work for an hour or so. I just want a few shots. I won’t be in your way.’

‘I’m not working today.’ He leans against the door-jamb, folds his arms across his chest. ‘Who sent you?’

‘The receptionist at the motel gave me your name. Told me where to find you.’

‘I don’t mean that. I mean who’s this for? A newspaper?’

‘It’s a commission from a publisher. There’ll be a