Monthly Online Book Review and Listings Magazine ~ May 2009

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Top literary prize goes to study of women’s writing

A study of Welsh women writers in the nineteenth century has been awarded the prestigious Roland Mathias Prize for 2009. The £2,000 prize goes to Jane Aaron, Professor of English at the University of Glamorgan, for her work on Nineteenth Century Women’s writing in Wales: Nation, Gender and Identity (published by the University of Wales Press). The prize for Welsh writing in English is awarded every two years in the fields of poetry, short stories, literary criticism or Welsh history. It is the first time the prize has been awarded for a work of literary criticism. The winning book introduces readers to a hundred Welsh women authors at work during the years 1780-1900, some writing in Welsh and some in English.  The chair of the judges, the former broadcaster Glyn Mathias, said: “We were immensely impressed with the scholarship and the lively writing that went into this work. Jane Aaron paints a crowded canvas, rescuing some authors from undeserved neglect and identifying the important role played by many others in Welsh society and culture at the time.” Describing it as a work of literary history as much as literary criticism, he said: “The range of writing covered in both languages – in magazines as well as books -  demonstrates the degree of influence women writers had in Wales during much of that period.” Jane Aaron has published books in both English and Welsh and is the editor of the Honno Classics series of reprints of Welsh Women’s Writing in English. The award of the prize was announced at a ceremony in Brecon, supported by BBC Wales and hosted by Nicola Heywood Thomas, presenter of Radio Wales Arts’ Show. The shortlist, all of them women writers, included poet Sheenagh Pugh, short story writer Carys Davies and academic Sarah Prescott, who had published a study of eighteenth century Welsh writing.  The Roland Mathias Prize was established in honour of the poet and author who played a major part in establishing Welsh writing in English as a distinctive literary genre. He died in 2007.  The next Roland Mathias Prize will be awarded in 2011 for a work published during 2009 and 2010. It is open to any writer born in Wales or currently living in Wales.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE   MAKEOVER

by Phyllis Owen

 I’m Sandra and I’m seventeen.  In two weeks time I’ll be leaving school.  That’s the good news.  The bad news!  There’ll be a dance in the school hall on Saturday night to celebrate and we are all expected to attend.  I can just visualise myself sitting on my own all night when everyone is out there dancing and enjoying themselves.  No one notices me.  I’m like an invisible woman.  I’m skinny, plain and my nose is a fraction too large.  I long to be different.  I touch my long brown spikey hair tentatively and yearn for the impossible, like to be changed from an ugly duckling to at least a common duck.  Too drastic to expect to be turned into a swan.

  My younger sister, Laura, is a beauty with thick black hair, sparkling blue eyes and a figure to die for.   Mum and Dad are normal and good looking, so where could I have come from?  When I told Nan I was sure I had been adopted, she just laughed.

  ‘I was with your Mum when she gave birth to you,’ she told me, ‘and watching you grow up and exploring your environment was the most fascinating thing in my life.’

  ‘Then I must be an off shoot of a bad gene,’ I insisted.

  Nan chuckled.  ‘I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself.  You are a perfectly normal, healthy young girl and my first grandchild.  There’s something special about the first grandchild even though I love Laura too.’

  ‘Oh, Nan, you always make me feel better than I really am.’

  ‘You are better than you think you are, my sweet.  Learn to love yourself.’

  I sighed and looked around my room.  It was my comfort zone, my retreat into my own world.  The room was small, with a fitted wardrobe, dressing table, desk and single bed.  The window faced the prettiest part of the garden where there was a small fish pond surrounded by flowers. When the wind blew you could smell their perfume.

   At school this morning Mandy was trying to get Geoff to ask her to the dance but he didn’t fall for it.  I chuckled.  I secretly admired Geoff and often fantisized about going out with him, our hands touching as we walked along the road.  He was not only the best looking guy in the class, but he was the most sensible.  The others were nitwits, especially Gordon, always coming out with something stupid.  I can’t understand why the girls thought they were so great.  I loved films with happy endings and novels where the hero rushes in when all is lost and grabs the girl kissing her and declaring his love.  Sometimes I daydream that Geoff is stroking my face and telling me how lovely I looked.  When I open my eyes he disappears into never never land.  I sighed.  As I have to attend the dance I’ll offer to help with the refreshments.

  Laura bursts into the room, her face full of excitement and waving a pink floral skirt about.  ‘Aunt Irene has arrived and brought us each a present.  Isn’t this gorgeous?’  She holds up the skirt.  It was of the latest fashion.  My eyes light up.  I was very fond of Mum’s sister, Irene.  She was the baby of a family of five, a mere ten years older than me.  We hadn’t seen her for almost a year.  She went out to Australia to visit her best friend who had moved there some years ago.  As she was a hairdresser she decided to stay for a while and found a job at the local hairdressers to earn her keep.  We received many postcards from her and the pictures were fascinating, all of strange Australian birds and animals.   ‘I love the skirt,’ I tell Laura, jumping from the bed and excitedly follow her to the lounge.  As I arrive, Aunt Irene rushes to give me a kiss on the cheek, then pushing me away she frowns and looks closely at me.  ‘You need a makeover, girl,’ she says, ‘and I’m the one to do it.’

  I hug her and laugh.  ‘Not even a makeover will help,’ I tell her.

  ‘Wait and see, young lady,’ she says, chuckling.  She hands me a dress and I gasp.  ‘This is great.  I can wear it to the dance on Saturday.’  I hold it up against me.  The dress was in a royal blue silky material.  It was sleeveless with a flared skirt.  The top was plain and had a roll collar.   ‘I love it,’ I told her.

  Mum laughed.  ‘You couldn’t have come at a better time, Irene.’

  Aunt Irene was a tonic and I brightened up considerably.  After supper we sat in the lounge.  I think Dad found the women all too much for him.  He said he had some work to do on the computer and excused himself. 

  ‘One day you must visit Australia,’ Aunt Irene told us.  ‘It’s so different.  I loved it there, but missed our family too much to stay longer.   I’ll be back for a holiday sometime.  The weather’s great too .  A bit hot in summer, but then almost every house has its own swimming pool.’

  ‘I’ll go with you,’ I broke in.  ‘Next Friday is my last day at school.’ 

  ‘What about varsity?’ she queried.

    I sighed.  ‘I think I’ll take a gap year to work out what I want to do,’ I replied.

    She jumped up from the couch.  ‘Come, young lady, to the kitchen we go.  Time for your makeover.’   

   I took a deep breath as I walked into the kitchen. ‘This is it,’ I whispered and felt my insides turn to jelly.

  Mum and Laura sat at the table. Laura was smiling, but Mum looked a bit concerned. ‘Are you ready for this, Sandra?’ she asked, tentatively.

  ‘I am,’ I insisted. ‘My hair couldn’t be worse than it is.’

  Aunt Irene, armed with scissors, comb and towel, pulled out a chair and motioned to me to sit down.   Giggling nervously I sat down.  To my surprise I found I was feeling excited. As I told Mum, my hair couldn’t be worse so anything would be an improvement.  I’d never have given carte blanche to anyone else except Aunt Irene.  I suppose it was because I trusted her so completely, and she is a hairdresser.   I took a deep breath as she began snipping.  Hair fell all around me.  I heard Laura gasp and for a moment I shuddered.  Ten minutes later, Aunt Irene called, ‘Laura, please bring the mirror from your room.’

  While Laura was out Aunt Irene twisted off the towel from around my shoulders and Mum swept up the hair from the floor.  I was dying to touch my hair, but thought better of it.  I’ll wait for the mirror.  But could something be wrong?  Mum and Laura haven’t said a word. Maybe they are scared that I’ll be hysterical when I see the result.  Yet I had complete faith in Aunt Irene.  She wouldn’t make a fool of me.

  Laura returned and handed the mirror to Aunt Irene who held it up in front of me.  For a few moments I stared into it in disbelief, then I laughed.  ‘I love it!’ I exclaimed.

  Jumping  up I threw my arms around her neck and kissed her cheek.  ‘It’s great!’

  She had given me a Julie Andrews, Maria of the Sound of Music, haircut.  I almost looked like Maria, same brown hair and similar features.  Last weekend Mum had taken us to see ‘The Sound of Music’ at the cinema.

  Mum gave me a hug and so did Laura.  ‘You look great!’ they told me.  ‘Short hair certainly suits you,’ Mum added and Laura agreed.

  ‘Viva la difference,’ came in Aunt Irene, her face full of excitement and her voice warm.  ‘You look gorgeous.’  

   I laughed.  ‘I feel gorgeous.’

  When Dad came down he looked at me in surprise, then his face broke into a smile.  ‘You look great, my girl,’ he told me. 

   ‘Thanks, Dad.’  I almost felt like a preening pidgeon.

    At school the next morning the girls in my class looked at me as if I was a stranger, then one by one they exclaimed, ‘Sandra, it’s really you!’

  ‘No one else,’ I quipped and laughed.

  They all agreed that it suited me.  Even the teacher did a double-take when she walked into the classroom.  Of course, some of the boys had their usual snigger, but it didn’t phase me one little bit.  At break I made my way to a seat beneath some trees to eat my lunch.   Geoff appeared as if from nowhere.  I looked at him and frowned.

  ‘Will you be my partner at the dance on Saturday?’ he burst out.

  I was so completely taken aback that I couldn’t think of a reply.  I eyed him closely to see if he was joking, but his face was serious and hopeful.

  He smiled awkwardly.  ‘Believe it or not I wanted to ask you yesterday but didn’t have the courage.  Today I thought I’d better get in quickly before someone else did.’

  I laughed and felt a sudden rush of euphoria.  ‘Are you trying to tell me that it’s not just because of my new look?’

  ‘You are right there.  I’ve always liked you but you seem to have a board in front of you saying, ‘Keep away from me!’.   I had to chuckle, but my heart was singing.

  At the dance I knew my dress was a hit the way some of the girls were eyeing it.  Somehow my whole life had changed.  Couldn’t believe my eyes when Gordon asked me to dance, the boy I disliked the most.  I was surprised at his gentleness and wit. 

  All this happened five years ago.  I didn’t take a gap year but went straight to university.   I trained as a teacher and taught at our old school.

  Gordon, also a teacher, taught with me at school.  Today we celebrate our first wedding anniversary.  He’ll be delighted to learn that I’m pregnant.  When we began dating during our university days, he told me, much to my surprise, that he preferred my long hair.                                                 

 

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