Island of Apples, Glyn Jones
I’ve been meaning to read this for a really really really long time. It first got onto my to read list back when I was doing my first degree and did a module on Welsh Fiction in English. Perhaps I’d actually have enjoyed it more back then, immersed in its contemporaries and exploring how it reflected on Welsh identity, etc, etc. Reading it now, it didn’t really work for me: it was definitely enjoyable to read Welsh voices and turns of phrase, and people referring to chapel and so on…
But otherwise, I didn’t care about it; I didn’t care about the characters, and I felt all the dreamlike stuff where you can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t was just… too like other books I’ve read? I don’t know. It didn’t stand out to me in any way.