A gripping story about a boy who, although barely educated, is possessed of extraordinary insights. He leaves school at 16, and goes to live on his widower-uncle's farm. The boy is innocent, spiritual and can also speak a language of his own, a poetry laden with Pagan and Christian myth. Through ecstatic trances he learns that he has an appointed place in the world.

Stori drawiadol am fachgen sy'n meddu ar alluoedd rhyfedd iawn. Mae'n gadael ysgol yn 16 oed ac yn mynd i fyw ar fferm ei ewythr sy'n ŵr gweddw. Mae'n fachgen diniwed ysbrydol iawn ac yn medru siarad ei iaith ei hun, rhyw fath o farddoniaeth yn deillio o chwedlau Paganaidd a Christnogol. Drwy berlewyg ysbrydol y mae'n dysgu fod ganddo le penodol yn y byd.

Knowing of Niall Griffiths’s reputation as a ‘gritty’ writer who tackles tough issues such as addiction, violence and social marginalization, and being a bit of a wuss myself, I have, to my shame, tended to run shy of his books. By the time I had read just a few pages of Runt, I realised what a mistake I had made in avoiding the work of this talented and bravely innovative writer.

Told in the highly distinctive voice of the first-person narrator, Runt is the story of a sixteen-year-old boy who has just finished school and is sent, for his own protection, to stay with his bereaved uncle on a remote Welsh hill farm. The boy, whose name we never learn, suffers from seizures which he calls ‘My Times’ and whose cause we also never learn. In many ancient spiritual traditions, the names of powerful beings must not be spoken, and fits or seizures are a sign and symptom of shamanic wisdom. In contemporary society, to fail to use a person’s name is a mark of disregard and to have fits is perceived as subnormal. Niall Griffiths conveys these two conflicting perceptions in a language that is both simpler and more profoundly expressive than ordinary speech, in which nothing is explained and yet all is understood. The deeply instinctual nature of the boy is mirrored in the narrative voice, in an exceptional piece of writing (and it does read like one, seamless piece) that draws and builds upon tradition, both literary and spiritual.

Griffiths’s use of minimal punctuation, mid-sentence capitalization and ‘made-up' words (Aarn, the dog, has ‘redsome’ ears; the boy feels ‘a nothingment’) contribute to a narrative pace and tone of building tension that crescendo in the remarkable description of one of the boy’s fits and the violent denouement. This is a book to be read as much for the story it tells as for the unique way in which it tells it.

Suzy Ceulan Hughes

It is possible to use this review for promotional purposes, but the following acknowledgment should be included: A review from www.gwales.com, with the permission of the Welsh Books Council.

Gellir defnyddio'r adolygiad hwn at bwrpas hybu, ond gofynnir i chi gynnwys y gydnabyddiaeth ganlynol: Adolygiad oddi ar www.gwales.com, trwy ganiatâd Cyngor Llyfrau Cymru.