Welsh Folk Tales
Robin Gwyndaf, with illustrations by Magaret D Jones, Y Lolfa,
£9.99
 

THE folk tale is a “Marmite” genre — scorned by some as a frivolous, child-centred form with fading appeal, but admired by others for its accessibility and influence. 

Novelist Lindsay Clarke, sees these stories as “an indispensable part of our birthright, freely available to everyone,” while writer and academic Alison Lurie focuses on their transformative power, saying: “We would do well to listen seriously to what they tell us about the real world we live in.”

This new edition of Robin Gwyndaf’s anthology confirms the assertions of Clarke and Lurie and celebrates the exuberance and variety of the Welsh folk tale tradition. It’s a gazetteer of 63 stories, representing every region of Wales and selecting just one piece from any district. 

This strategy was determined by the illustrations, which jigsaw into a pictorial map. There’s a timeless charm to Margaret D Jones’s images: dramatic and unfussy, they complement perfectly the author’s direct and unadorned style. Gwyndaf’s storytelling is clear, detached and compelling.

There are tales of enchantment and wonder: one describes the poet-magician Merlin’s intervention in a battle between dragons at Dinas Emrys in Snowdonia. 

Another strand of fabulist storytelling reflects the incursion of the supernatural into everyday life, as in the haunting of Cydweli Castle by the headless ghost of Gwenllian, a warrior princess who fought the Norman invaders. 

Then, there’s a historical thread dealing with heroes, villains and momentous events. We read of Owain Glyndwr’s long revolt against English rule, the antics of the trickster-outlaw Twm Sion Cati and the Rebecca Riots, the struggle of working people against the imposition of toll gates in south Wales. 

Each story is a dazzling flash of human experience, natural or supernatural. There’s magic, horror, valour, pathos, cunning, tragedy, grandeur and farce. 

The entertainment is augmented by solid but engaging scholarship. Supporting materials include a socio-literary history of the Welsh folk tale, a summary of folk customs, a glossary, a pronunciation guide and a bibliography suggesting further reading. 

Gwyndaf is keen to emphasise the durability of the folk tradition, its ability to adapt to contemporary concerns and modes of transmission. He suggests there has been a shift from themes of magic and enchantment in the Welsh folk tale, but ghost stories continue to thrive. Hauntings and weird experiences remain a vital aspect of the human condition, it seems. Furthermore, the craving for historical narratives, urban legends and anecdotes has fed into new channels of communication. 

Evidence for this assertion is provided by the satirical observations, conspiracy theories and gossip of stand-up comedians and social media sites. Some of this material is of dubious origin and intent, as recent events have demonstrated, but its popularity stems in part from the impulse to understand our communities, cultures and lives. It’s important, therefore, that we hear the right stories from the right sources.         

Robin Gwyndaf’s fine collection is an enjoyable, erudite and timely reminder that we can all, as readers and writers, use terse tales to inspire thought and create meaning.